Chapter 17: The Fortune Teller

According to what Thorn’s men had found, Leila was brought to her aunt’s house by her aunt’s sister. However, the woman was not Leila’s birth mother, as it was confirmed that she couldn’t conceive. That woman was a peasant, living near the edge of King’s Harbor all her life.

Strangely, she had suddenly decided to visit her sister one day, leaving behind a baby who had just been born. Shortly after she gave the baby to her sister and returned to her farm, the woman was found dead. Thorn believed that the woman had deliberately kept a secret from her sister. Her cruel aunt and uncle didn’t even know that Leila wasn’t their blood relative.

The connection between Leila and that grey dragon woman was still being investigated. But he was certain of one thing: Leila was not a regular girl. She was a mystery to Thorn, fascinating and enchanting his dragon soul.

But more importantly, she was in grave danger, surrounded by his own family. If he wanted to keep her safe, he would have to mark her as his own. This would be the only way to keep the threats at bay. With the dragon divinity’s consent, Leila would be officially considered a family member of the royal dragons, regardless of the opinions of the current royals.

The dragon divinity would appear at the ritual in honor of the previous queen’s death. Thorn had deliberately chosen that day to mark Leila. He had always hoped that his mother could connect with her in some way. If the mark was successful, then in a way, it would be as if his mother, Tora, gave them her blessing.

The memorial festival was a three-day event throughout the kingdom. All of the citizens would have a break from their usual busy lives. The servants in the dragon palace were no exception.

Leila sat in the bedchamber before a copper mirror. The prince was out patrolling the city with the royal garrison. She was pondering her mysterious identity while worrying about the upcoming ritual.

She wanted to belong to Thorn, and him to her. Since her family had been completely ripped away from her, Leila wanted nothing more than to grab onto something tangible, something that could anchor her. She yearned for it, even though it felt like a dream that was too good to be true.

Leila looked into the mirror. She had a soft face, without any sharp features. If not for her irregular purple eyes, she would certainly be the kind of girl anyone would like. But she couldn’t change that, could she? Her eyes would always be an inseparable part of her. But tonight, she had made a decision to hide them, temporarily, behind the thin, translucent voile fabric in Nyree’s hand.

“Are you sure about this fortune teller?” Leila placed her fingers at the base of the flaming candle; she liked the warmth.

Nyree gently combed out the snags in Leila’s hair. “Yes. I had a friend once, who went to seek a resolution from her. My friend did exactly as she had instructed, and was bewildered by how accurate and effective she was.”

“But the ritual, during the memorial festival…what the prince wants to do, she won’t object to that, right?” Leila wished that it could be a secret forever.

Nyree put her hand on Leila’s shoulder and said, “She listens to her own gods. You can try your luck.” She picked up the voile strip, and remembered what the chamberlain had told her to say. “If you want to eliminate the one percent chance of failure, this woman is the right person to see. Being marked by a dragon is exceptionally difficult. In the history of the kingdom, a crossbreed has never successfully been marked by a pure, black bloodline dragon. The prince is the only black bloodline prince, the most powerful dragon race.” Nyree shrugged, “It’s just too rare.”

Leila was persuaded. Her lack of confidence had convinced her.

She dressed herself in a white robe with a huge hood. A silver ribbon was wrapped around her waist, and the veil was securely tied at the back of her head. Leila would be disguised as a silver servant. No one would pay any attention to her tonight, not at the crowded and boisterous carnival.

Nyree walked with her. They came to a garden of the main castle. It was the servants and knights’ day off in honor of the past dragon queen. The majority of them had been allowed to take a short and enjoyable break from their sacred service to the royal dragons. Small and colorful stalls were strewn across the meadow. The air was filled with the aroma of appetizing meats and musky, burning wood. The golden, lofty garden walls were particularly extravagant under the reflection of the dancing flames.

Leila found the festive mood infectious. She was curious about the charming novelties and exciting games. Her eyes were darting here and there, attracted by quaint balloons and flamboyant sweets. But business comes before pleasure.

Nyree spotted the fortune teller’s stall. They walked straight over.

The stall was a small tent pitched on the ground, painted with stars and a moon. A sign on the curtain read, *AVAILABLE*. They figured they could directly go in.

“Excuse me?” Nyree asked.

“Come in.” A raspy voice emitted from behind a huge tapestry decorated with obscure words.

They both walked a bit farther into the tent. And an old woman came out from behind the tapestry. She welcomed them and offered them a place to sit at a small, round table.

Leila lowered herself onto the cushion and sat with her legs crossed. She watched the old woman busy herself with the things in her hands. She tied off a cluster of dried wormwood and clamped it onto a thin rope. Her fingers nipped a twig off of the dried flowers hanging upside down next to a heated cauldron, and she threw it inside. A bitter, herbal scent wafted out. Finally, she sat herself before them.

“What are you seeking? Wealth, pride, closure, or love?” The old woman spoke without looking at them.

Leila was organizing the words in their proper order on the tip of her tongue. Then, she said. “I want to be certain of something, related to the dragon sacrifice ritual.”

The words hung in the air. The old woman lifted her eyes and gave Nyree a short and hurried look. Then she observed Leila with a long and mysterious stare.

“Give me your hand.” The woman unfolded her own palms and waited. Leila put her left hand in the woman’s palm. It felt dry and coarse.

The woman rubbed hard on Leila’s hand. Then almost instantly, she pulled it to her chest and spoke in a low voice. “I see immense danger lurking before you.” Then she quickly withdrew her hand, like Leila’s hand was a burning coal. “Nevertheless, I have what you are seeking. It won’t cost anything other than your own blood,” she gestured as she glided a finger across her own palm, “a cut, without a scar, is necessary.”

Leila looked down on her hand, doubtfully. What if she just left and trusted Thorn, as he had said? She had confidence in him and in them. The connection between them was strong, she could feel it in her bones. *But what if she failed? What if the dragon divinity rejected her and disapproved of her as his fated mate*?

The inferiority she felt was rooted in her heart and it once again emerged to the surface. It was like a devilishly shrill voice, constantly in her ear, telling her she didn’t deserve him, that she was just nothing but a useless mongrel.

She looked at the old woman’s wrinkled face. Nyree gave Leila a reassuring nod as a gesture of encouragement. Leila eventually decided. She put her left hand on the table and said firmly, “Do it then.”

The fortune teller got up on her feet and fetched a small exquisite bottle painted with abstract shapes. Then, she put the sharp edge of a short blade to the flame of a candle. She gripped Leila’s hand and sliced her palm along the middle. Fresh blood oozed out. Leila pressed her lips together, trying hard to suppress the urge to wince. The cut was painful, but not as bad as she thought it would be. Maybe she just had a high pain tolerance.

The old woman then opened the bottle and sprinkled it along the fresh wound. It was a reddish, rusty powder, sparkling slightly under the candlelight.

Leila felt a sharp pain and asked worriedly, “What is it?”

“The certainty you are seeking.” The woman then placed a large leaf on her palm and murmured something quietly. When she peeled the leaf off, the cut on Leila’s hand was gone.

In utter amazement, Leila felt a contentment as if her wish had already been fulfilled. As she got up, the old woman suddenly seized her hand and spoke in a deep voice, like another soul had possessed her body,

“*THOU WOLDE ACENNAN DOM TO THOS CYNEDOM*.”

Then, she suddenly released her grip. The fortune teller was back to normal and waved goodbye like nothing had happened.