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“What are you?” Jarek growls, his swords still gripped in his fists.
“What do you wish me to be?”
“Dead, if you intend harm.”
She answers with a smile. Everything about her looks human—or immortal—except for the same vertical pupils cutting through citron-colored irises as her previous form. Even with those, she is beautiful. “What am I, Sorceress?”
“A sylx.” Gesine’s eyes flare with emerald light as she arms herself. “Be careful, Romeria. They are said to be powerful and treacherous creatures.”
“More treacherous than your kind?” The female’s head falls back with a raucous laugh, a curtain of deep auburn hair reaching halfway down her sculpted back. She doesn’t seem fazed by the caster. Where Gesine has found any shred of affinity after healing Drakon, I can’t imagine, but she obviously feels we need it. “Besides, I would not harm my queen.”
“You won’t harm any of us,” I reach for my own affinities.
“Is that a command from Her Highness?” Her lips curl, as if my demand is funny.
“Yes.”
“Then no harm will come of your servants by my will. There is no need to arm yourself so.” She circles Jarek, her rapt attention on him. “I have pined for this moment for many millennia.”
“How long have you been in here?” Trapped in this dark hole in the ground, with nothing but cold stone, firelight, and carvings.
“For as long as the gates of Ulysede have been sealed.” She keeps moving, that graceful stride as she slips around us. Much like a snake might move, winding around its prey before closing in, squeezing.
It sets the hairs along the back of my neck, but I release my grip on my affinities, allowing them to slink back.
“In service to the nymphs?” Gesine asks.
Lucretia narrows her eyes. “Why do your servants feel they can speak to me freely?”
Something tells me arguing that I don’t have servants won’t win me points with this creature. “They’re my advisors. Answer her question.”
“Your Highness.” She dips her head. “I have been tasked to serve as my masters’ voice between the worlds until their return.”
“You are the oracle that the tomes speak of, yes?” Gesine asks.
“That is one name for me.”
“Gesine found books that say you have all the answers.”
Lucretia grins. “And you have all the questions.”
“I have so many questions,” I admit.
“Then you need only ask. I know much, about what was and what will be.”
“Lucretia’s lessons,” Gesine says. “It is not a book. It is her. She is your guide, your teacher.”
A wave of exhilaration overwhelms me. Where do I even begin? “What is Ulysede?”
“It is your kingdom.” Lucretia’s beautiful face twists with mocking. “I would think that obvious, given you’ve claimed the throne.”
“Right. And the nymphs built it for me?”
“No, they sealed it for you. This was always their home.”
“And what made the fates banish the nymphs in the first place?”
Her musical laughter rings. “Who says the fates banished the nymphs?”
My eyes flip to Gesine.
“Everything we know about the nymphs has come from interpretations of seers’ visions and sparse details from ancient scripture found in Shadowhelm,” she admits. “The seers saw great strife between the nymphs and fates, and it was assumed—”
“Assumed. Yes, these wielders of the elements are all alike, are they not?” Lucretia sneers. “The mystics of days past thought themselves so clever as well. Cobbling together crumbs until they could call it cake. Their type always assume they are right.”
“Perhaps if every text on the matter wasn’t locked up in Ulysede, we would know more,” Gesine snaps.
Lucretia only laughs in response, but in her eyes, challenge burns.
I hold up a hand to calm Gesine. “What are you saying?”
Lucretia circles Jarek again, slowing, stepping in close, her head tipped as she surveys his face, his mouth. “My masters are exactly where they chose to be.”
He glowers at her. “And where is that?”
She smiles. “Very close, and eagerly awaiting their return.”
I school my expression. What would the nymphs do if they knew I have no plans to release them? “Tell me everything I want to know.”
After another moment staring at Jarek’s mouth, she shifts away. “You must tell me what you wish to know.”
“‘The oracle’s lessons will have the answers the Queen for All must seek,’” Gesine recites in a whisper. “That is what the text said.”
Lucretia will tell me only what I ask. But what if I don’t know what to ask? I heave a sigh of frustration. “Okay. Why does Malachi want me to open the nymphaeum door?”
“Because, for the fates to walk this plane, so must the nymphs.” She shifts toward Gesine, cocking her head to appraise her form.
“And he wants to be king again.” We’ve suspected as much.
“I could assume so, but I have not spoken to him personally, and I do not peddle assumptions as others do.” She traces a finger over Gesine’s gold collar. “You will have to ask him that. You have a sanctum above us, do you not?”
