Mercy waves us off. “All I meant was, our wedding can be your first appearance as an official couple — in two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” I repeat, tonguing my cheek. “Someone is in a hurry.”
Mercy flashes me an irritated look, and I laugh, clasping my hands on the back of my head.
“If you say so, your magnificence,” I say. “And what about the circus?”
“Whataboutthe circus?” Wolfgang volleys back.
I nod toward Veil with a flick of my chin. “She’s my new act at Animus.”
Mercy groans. “Of course she is.”
Wolfgang studies us both, as if calculating some kind of secret Vainglory Media formula, and nods. “Just keep your tomfoolery contained to your neighborhood until then.”
32
VEIL
Aday later, I’m back at Mount Pravitia.
Gemini escorted me up to the entrance doors, but Mercy made him turn around and leave. He did, but not before making a show of kissing me goodbye.
Now, I’m deep underground with one of the rulers of Pravitia, trying to convince myself that I belong here when Mercy’s presence is so imposing. I focus on the cadence of her black stilettos on the stone floor as I follow her down a damp, low-lit corridor, chewing on my inner lip and wondering if she’ll ever say another word to me.
“Here,” she finally says, and I hide the small wince upon hearing her voice echo against the walls.
There’s no door to open, just a large threshold beckoning me inside. I glance at Mercy, her face blank and impassive as she waits for me to walk in first. I’m still unsure of what we are doing here, and now does not feel like the most opportune time to ask. So I swallow down the rock in my throat and enter on tentative steps.
The room is spacious. Dark but lit with flambeaus lining the side walls. I startle when my gaze lands on the Oracle, sitting at the far end of the room between two large stone columns.
She appears as still as a statue, her hands in repose on her lap, as if waiting to be roused from a deep slumber. She’s veiled under a gray shawl, her black dress long enough to pool on the ground and cover her feet. Her hair is loose, falling over her shoulders.
I look over to Mercy behind me in a flimsy attempt for some kind of encouragement, but she just impatiently flicks her hand, signaling me onward.
A narrow walkway, flanked on each side by water, leads up to a wider platform, where the Oracle sits. I idly wonder how the water even got here as I warily take my first few steps with Mercy following me close behind.
As I get closer to the Oracle, I realize her eyes are cloaked in a white film. Her focus is nowhere and everywhere, all at once. When Mercy walks up to where I’m standing, the Oracle’s eyes shift, the white film fading, revealing the pale blue underneath.
“Servants,” she declares. She pins me with her stare, and a cold shiver travels down my spine. “Ready, I see.”
Her last words feel far too similar to what Gemini has been repeating to me over the past few weeks. I fight the odd, petulant urge to stomp my foot and ask why everyone assumes to know me better than I do.
Instead, I simply play along and nod solemnly.
The Oracle pauses, shifting her attention to Mercy. “Why are you here, child?”
It’s the first time I’ve seen Mercy flustered, stumbling over her words as she tries to explain her presence here.
“The gods chose me to rule the city,” she manages to say. “Shouldn’t I be privy to such a conversation?”
The Oracle seems displeased. “Then where is your counterpart?”
Mercy fumbles over her answer again, and the interaction gives me a sick sense of satisfaction. It humanizes her, and suddenly, I can breathe easier.
“I thought it best to come alone; he understands.”
The Oracle stares at Mercy. The moment feels infinite before she slowly lifts an arm and points to the corner of the small platform. “Stand there and do not utter another word.”
