No, no, no, I scream silently at my mind’s betrayal. I cannot think of this now. I will not.
I suck in a deep breath and rack my brain, searching for my proudest moment. The Oracle steps abruptly away from the Lesser boy’s side and closes in on me. I shake as her glittering blue hand reaches toward my face. I close my eyes and concentrate on the image of myself slaying a chimera in the arena in just thirty-one seconds, besting the other Underlords in my age group by half a minute. Surely that was my proudest moment. My greatest victory. The crowd had even cheered for me.…
All except for my father and the Court … They did not see my accomplishments because they did not care to look. No matter how hard I tried, they will not forget what I did to earn my disgrace.…
I feel the Oracle’s icy touch land lightly on my skin, just between my eyes. My vision flickers black for a moment and then I see myself at the age of seven—as if gazing into a mirror from the past—sitting in my bedchamber. I hear my mother’s hollow voice as she cries out.…
I feel a sharp, stinging sensation in my forehead, like someone is pulling a string through my skull, and I am snapped back into reality. My vision focuses and I see the Oracle drawing her pinched fingers away from my forehead. And I know what memory of mine she holds.
“No! You can’t see that!” I try to grasp the Oracle’s blue hands, but as I reach for her, she disappears, and all I clutch at is the air. The ranks of Underlords gape at me for trying to touch the Oracle. Master Crue begins to stand. The Oracle reappears next to the altar in front of the throne, cupping my most shameful memory in her hands. I am too far away to stop her from watching the scene that she has stolen from my mind.
She holds her pinched fingers out in front of her veiled face. My heart feels as though it might break through my rib cage. Will she demand that I be cast from the ceremony after what she sees? I want nothing more than to stop her from seeing, but before I can even think of what to do, she drops her hand, and her body goes as rigid as the marble statues that line the perimeter of the throne room. Her priest, a short, balding man in a red tunic, steps forward.
“One Champion only can complete this task,” the priest says, but his voice echoes like wind whipping through a long chamber, and I realize the Oracle is speaking through him, using his voice as her own. “The son of King Ren is he.”
Rowan stands tall and begins to take a step forward to the altar, but then the Oracle raises her blue hand and points one of her long, glittering fingers, not in the direction of Rowan, my twin brother, but toward me.
“Your Champion is Lord Haden,” the priest says—my name echoing in the chamber, which has fallen as still as death.
Elation rises in my hammering chest.
That is, until a cry of outrage rushes through the Court of Heirs with a force akin to the wake of Charon’s mighty boat.
“This is absurd,” Lord Lex, the king’s chief advisor, says, rising from his seat among the Court. “The boy lacks proper training. He is not one of the Elite. He’s too emotional. We all know that.”
My hands tingle with heat. I ball them into fists but keep them tight against my sides. An outburst would only prove him right.
“It should be Rowan,” Lord Killian, my father’s second advisor, demands. “The Court agreed on Rowan. He should be …”
“The decision has been taken out of the Court’s hands,” the Oracle’s priest says, using his own raspy voice. “The Oracle was brought here to make it for you. She has made her decree; it is now your pleasure to listen and obey.”
“It is you who must obey!” another one of the Heirs demands, but his blasphemous comment is almost drowned out by the other members of the Court who add their protestations to the din.
I have heard rumors of strain between the members of the Court—I have even heard of whisperings against my father’s rule among the Heirs—but there seems to be one thing that still unites them: their disdain for me.
I don’t know why I didn’t realize that this is exactly how it would play out.
The elation I couldn’t help feeling when the Oracle said my name twists inside me until it becomes something darker. Perhaps this is more than the usual scorn of the Court against me? Perhaps this is all some kind of sick joke? Something orchestrated to humiliate me for hoping that I could rise above the lot I have been cast? Hope is a shameful emotion after all—another useless thing my mother must have taught me.
I keep my eyes trained on the Oracle. She is unmoving, swathed in her many veils. I wish I could see her face. I ache to know what she was thinking when she made her decision.
I need to know why.
“Silence!”
All voices cut off at once, and all eyes turn toward the towering throne.
King Ren Hades rises from his ebony seat. His long black hair is plaited in a ceremonial braid like mine and the other Underlords’. The firelight from the torches surrounding the altar reflects in the polished gold of his breastplate. He holds his open hand out in front of him. Threads of blue lightning hiss up from his palm and encircle his hand. It is meant to be a warning.
“Oracle,” he begins, “I brought you here to predict the best possible outcome, but you have obviously chosen wrong. The boy is unfit.…”
“You dare question an Oracle?” the priest asks.
“I am king here,” Ren says.
“And I am the infallible voice of the universe,” the priest says, his voice that of the Oracle. “I have chosen my Champion. The boy is the one who can save you.” The Oracle’s bluish skin pulses purple and then deep red when she turns toward King Ren, her veils rustling about her as if blown by an invisible gale. The ground beneath my feet trembles, and I know I am not the only one who feels it. “Only ruin lies in wait for those who disobey the words of fate.”
The ranks of Underlords behind me jostle for a better view. Even the Lessers have dared to fall out of position.
The lightning in Ren’s hand pulses brighter and coils its way up his arm. “Is that a threat?”
“I speak only the truth,” responds the Oracle. “You are the one who summoned me here. You and I both know why.”
King Ren’s face grows dark. He advances upon the Oracle, with the lightning crackling in his raised hand. The ground shifts again, and I almost lose my footing when I leave my place in the ranks. The Oracle’s words have emboldened me, and I don’t think about what I am doing before I throw myself down on my knees between her and King Ren.
“Stop!” I say. “I can do this. I have lived and breathed preparing for this. I am more than ready for wherever this quest shall take me. Let me prove myself to you.” I look up at King Ren and see his shock that I have dared to address him directly. His jaw is hard set and orange rings of fire pulsate around his pupils. “Allow me to do this. Please, Father …”
King Ren looks down at me, meeting my eyes for the first time since the day he told me I was no longer his son.