A Shade of Dragon 2(60)

I slid out onto the beach and down towards the cave. The tide was out, and I crept inside with a cavalier regard for the suicidal vigor it would require to go spelunking at night. But love had a way of making you suicidal from time to time.

I walked through the cave—over the formations, up the shelf, through the domed room, down a corridor, and into a wide area of many pools—until I reached the teal-colored, luminescent cavern of the Oracle.

As soon as I entered the room, the top of her head appeared in a puddle, creating a halo of bioluminescent ripples. She emerged and spread her spindly arms across the cavern floor as if lounging in a hot tub; partially submerged in the puddle, she was nude and golden. Small breasts. Long fingers. No eyes.

I knew you’d come, she cooed directly into my brain. Young love has a way of twisting even the brightest minds into pretzels.

“I need your help,” I blurted. I had lost all traces of a bedside manner after Theon had dumped me here like garbage.

But do you want it? Even if it hurts?

“Of course,” I insisted.

The Oracle laughed in my head, an echoing, maddening sound.

“Stop!” I cried, pinning my hands to my ears. “Yes, I want your help!”

Even if I must tell you something you hate to hear? Even if I make your little monkey hands claw at your little monkey ears?

“Yes,” I hissed.

Go home, the Oracle purred. Though she had no eyes, her lips spread into a syrupy smile. Forget Theon Aena.

“That’s not an option for me,” I informed her hotly. “He’s my husband.”

All short-sighted fools see the error of their ways, sooner or later. Theon is no different. The fire dragons have a very specific need for women, Penelope O’Hara. Let’s not be coy now.

“What the hell are you trying to tell me?” I demanded, losing my patience.

The fates sing every song that has ever been sung and will ever be sung, my darling would-be queen. Did you think that your body could escape the thread of their designs? Come closer, Penelope O’Hara, mortal lover of the fool prince. Come closer, and let me touch you.

I obeyed her, lowering to my knees at her pool, and I shuddered as her clammy fingertips suctioned themselves to my lower abdomen.

Yes, yes, she cooed inside my head. I’m afraid it is so. Where many women bear flowers which bloom, yours yields infertile sands.

The words circulated meaninglessly in my head, refusing to settle.

“What?” I whispered.

Your eggs are half-count and spoiled, would-be queen. I have told the fool prince all of this before—that he will not find in you what he seeks. But if I must, I will tell you, too. One day, one night, one of you is bound to accept it.

“Accept that I’m… what? Barren?” One of my hands moved to my abdomen, and the Oracle’s creepy fingers popped off of my skin.

Accept the law of the stars, the strange creature replied, dipping down into the puddle again. She submerged and vanished, but her voice continued to echo in my head. Accept that the fool prince—your so-called husband—is destined to continue the Aena dynasty. But his children will be born from the womb of the Everwinter ice queen.