“Did I wake you?” I asked, sarcasm coloring my tone. He raised an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on his irritatingly handsome features. He looked lazy and mocking, and I couldn’t help thinking of the last time I’d seen him in bed, peaceful and serene, with his tanned muscular torso looking pale in the moonlight.
“I had some questions,” I continued hastily, shoving the thoughts aside and getting down to business. “About the Oracle my brother saw living here. When and how did she recover from her blindness?”
“I was not there to witness it, but Elissa regained her sight when she, along with the house, was moved by the Daughters from Earth to Eritopia to create a sanctuary—”
“Whoa, the Daughters moved this entire house from Earth?” I interrupted. That would explain a lot.
“Indeed,” Draven replied. “Elissa had fled to Earth to escape Azazel a couple of hundred years ago, around the time he began capturing Oracles. She cast a spell over herself like a mask so she could hide the shadows on her skin, and took up residence on a plantation where she worked as a servant.”
To my annoyance, he paused. “Please, go on,” I pressed.
He sighed. “My father at the time, being acutely opposed to Azazel and needing to do everything he could to stop him collecting more Oracles, managed to track down Elissa’s location and convince the Daughters to help create a sanctuary. They scooped up the whole house and planted it here—after expelling the human residents…”
“Expelling the humans?” I couldn’t help but interject.
Draven shrugged.
“You saw no reason to ask the Daughters, I guess,” I mumbled.
“Of course my father didn’t. Asking them questions is always a mistake—the wrong one angers them, and the right one doesn’t gain you much of an answer.”
I frowned. From where I was standing, it seemed like these Daughters had been pretty generous—helping protect Elissa from Azazel, along with the Druid and his father, and giving her the gift of sight. I wasn’t sure why the Druid spoke about them in such negative terms.
“They don’t seem that bad,” I muttered.
“Because you haven’t met them,” he countered. “Why do you insist on disagreeing with everything that I tell you? I’m not lying, Serena. I’m telling you this for your own good—the Daughters, should you ever come across them, are…difficult, to say the least.”
“It’s not that I disagree,” I replied heatedly, “It’s just that you don’t tell us anything—or so little that we’re always in the dark, and it feels like you do it on purpose.”
“That’s not the case,” Draven replied, far calmer than I was. He reached up, absent-mindedly ruffling the back of his hair. “There’s so much about this land—about Eritopia, Azazel, everything—that you don’t understand, that you couldn’t hope to understand. I’m trying to make this as easy on you as I can.”
I clenched my jaw in frustration. Every time I thought we were making a bit of a breakthrough in understanding, the answers were instantly blocked off. We had the future and the past to contend with as well, thanks to the visions and the diary, which seemed to make everything more complicated—not clearer, as I had hoped.
“Can you tell me what happened to Elissa, the Oracle?” I asked, folding my arms.
“It’s a long story.” He sighed.
“I’ve got the time.”
“I haven’t. And it’s not something I wish to discuss.”
His face darkened suddenly, his eyes dimming. Perhaps I was overstepping the mark by demanding answers on Elissa. From what I had read, and from Phoenix’s description of the cozy family life they’d led, at least temporarily, it sounded like for all intents and purposes, Elissa had been a mother figure to the Druid. I suspected that it might have been painful for him to discuss her, and, unless I wanted to invoke his anger, it was probably better to stay silent on the subject—at least for now.
“Fine,” I retorted, backing away from him, moving toward the greenhouse.
“There was one thing,” Draven replied before I left. “Clothing. I noticed you could all use extra items—there should be some upstairs in the attic from the previous owners. You can access it through the hallway opposite the werewolf’s room.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
I was taken aback by the offer. It seemed such a human thing to suggest—and considerate. I doubted there would be much up there that hadn’t been eaten by moths and disintegrated, but the offer was kind nevertheless.