chapter. 63

“How does it feel to leave Sorka alone for the first time?” I asked Gaia.

I had enlisted Gaia and Cleta’s help to journey to Nemetes. Luther’s birth town was a day’s ride away from Ligones, nestled in a valley renowned for its lush flora. Since Cleta had been there with Luther when they were younger, she had volunteered to make a few introductions.

“She’s not alone, she’s with Gallen,” Gaia answered.

“How does Gallen feel about being alone with Sorka?” Cleta inquired, amused.

“I didn’t ask,” Gaia replied, somber. “Things have been...strained between us, since he admitted that Roisin used to be his lover.”

“Since when does anyone care about past lovers?” Cleta wondered.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Gaia answered sharply.

Cleta shot a quizzical glance in my direction, but I shook my head so she would drop the subject. While my friendship with Cleta had flourished over the last couple of weeks, Gaia remained wary enough not to share intimate details of her life with her.

“Men,” Cleta sighed. “Never cease to surprise.”

“That much we can agree upon,” Gaia smiled humorlessly.

“So,” Cleta continued, moving her bay mare closer to Oberon.

“Yes?” I asked, bracing myself for one of her loaded questions.

She smirked. “Are you going to tell us more about you and Luther? How is our king behind closed doors?”

“Oh, uh... we’re mostly either asleep or getting ready when we’re alone.”

Cleta’s lightheartedness at a time when we were journeying to find out about my potentially impending death confounded me.

“Come on!” Gaia chimed in, for once siding with Cleta. “You’re sleeping with the King of Voke, and you won’t even give us any details?”

Maybe this was what it was like to have friends. Being able to chit-chat about our relationships, to ease our minds in times of stress.

“I don’t have any to share!” I exclaimed, blushing. “We’re mostly dealing with court issues, political issues, or, well...prophecy issues.”

Cleta stared at me, her mouth open wide. I avoided her gaze. Women in Thornland murmured about their first times, behind the heavy doors of salons I had never been privy to. Once I had eavesdropped on Athenais as she described to Olympia how magical a married woman’s first night with her husband was, but it all sounded all too poetic to be true.

“So you’ve never had sex,” Cleta concluded.

“No,” I admitted defensively.

“Well, you’re in luck,” Cleta smiled mischievously. “Neither has Luther...I don’t think.”

“Cleta!” Gaia glared at her.

I burst out laughing, then spurred Oberon into a brisk canter through a thick undergrowth, to end the conversation.

***

We arrived in Nemetes under an eerily bright moonlight. The town was much smaller than our capital, its moss-covered tents sprouting from the ground alongside dense bushes that formed menacing shapes in the night.

Luther’s town is so intertwined with nature it almost looks unearthly.

Cleta pointed to a large structure topped with an emerald awning at the end of a street, light spilling from its entrance.

“The tavern. I’ve sent word to some of Luther’s old friends that we were coming. One of them will host us.”

When we walked in, a half-dozen demons welcomed Cleta with animated cheers. I pushed away the pang of jealousy that tugged at my heart.

Of course she knows his friends. They grew up together.

Cleta introduced Gaia and I to the merry group, who wholeheartedly shared stories of Luther when he was younger. He had moved from Nemetes to court just before he became a teenager, before the war, but had remained close to his childhood friends.

“So you’re Luther’s lover!” a demon with unruly silver hair exclaimed, scooting closer to me. “And here we all were, thinking he would never marry.”

“I haven’t defeated him yet,” I said.

“If he truly loves you, I’m sure you will,” the man reassured me.

“I thought victories couldn’t be faked?” I frowned.

“They can’t. But when a man loves a woman, he tends to fight a little less...fiercely, in my experience.”

“But Luther’s defeated so many women already…” I thought out loud.

The man chuckled. “He’s always stayed so far away from women that they all followed him around, wanting to know why he was so mysterious. Some of us thought that women weren’t who he was interested in. Others that he loved Voke too much to focus on anything else. But...perhaps he was just a romantic all along.”

The man raised his glass, turning to the assembly. “To Luther!”

The rest of the tavern echoed his words.

***

The next morning, Gaia and I followed Cleta through Nemetes. We were headed to Luther’s only living relative, his aunt Gilden.

Our night at the tavern had been punctuated by a few juicy stories recounted by Luther’s old friends, but I had realized that no one was even aware of the prophecy.

However, Cleta had assured me that Gilden would know where to find the oracle that had delivered it. Apparently, the woman was somewhat of a spiritual arts connaisseur​​.

The three of us eventually stopped in front of a neglected brown tent. Nemetes was more inviting in broad daylight, yet the mystical atmosphere that permeated the streets made me shiver.

A round-faced woman opened, staring at Cleta with wide-eyes.

“You’ve got the wrong house,” she informed her.

“I’m looking for Gilden?” Cleta inquired.

“Oh. I’m afraid she’s not entirely here anymore,” the demon answered. “Come in, please. She hasn’t had visitors in a long time. Only her nephew comes.”

My heart sank when I understood what the woman meant. We found Luther’s aunt slouching on an armchair near the blazing fire pit of the cluttered tent. A low hum filled the room.

“Gilden?” Cleta ventured.

The shrivelled up woman didn’t turn to us. She didn’t notice us. Cleta walked closer to her, and gasped. Gilden’s purple eyes, a copy of Luther’s, were clouded by a milky white layer. She was muttering words to herself.

“Her mind is gone,” the caretaker informed us. “Such exhibits the danger of our oracles and their prophecies. Some people shouldn’t face the future. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like,” she added, before heading out to work in the garden.

A sour feeling rose in my stomach.

“Gilden,” Cleta reached for the old woman’s hands. “Do you recognize me?”

Gilden’s head bobbed gently, as if she followed a rhythm only she could hear. Too shaken to stay by the old woman, I brewed some tea, while Cleta and Gaia sat alongside Gilden. It was hard to accept that her mind had crumbled under the weight of her beliefs in oracles. If Luther’s faith was this strong...

As I looked around the tent, searching for clean cups, I noticed old family portraits, in which Luther must not have been past five, his purple eyes already vibrant. Stacked high on a rickety table were heavily annotated books on prophecies. I thumbed through a few, mostly detailing the art of soothsaying.

Eventually, a leather-bound notebook drew my attention. It had been knocked to the ground, as if its contents were too offensive to stay neatly on a pile. I leafed through its pages, which were darkened by notes, intricate charts, and tables with numbers I couldn’t interpret.

Finally, I stumbled upon something that might be of use: a list titled “Oracles in Nemetes.”