The Broken Kingdoms of Osvolta (Kingdoms of Osvolta #1)

65. Find Proof

Chapter sixty-five

Find Proof

S olveig and Adira worked in tandem silence. Adira had brought Solveig a pitcher of ale to keep her happy, and it seemed to have done the trick. After hours of silent work, Solveig leaned back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose against the lingering headache.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

Adira’s eyes narrowed on their friend at the sniped reply. “Find anything?”

One of Solveig’s eyes opened then, landing on her friend across the room. With a sigh, she leaned forward again, her elbows meeting the wooden table.

“Only more evidence to back up our theory. Name after name, month after month,” she flicked aimlessly through the pages, “they don’t cross over.”

Solveig herself wasn’t sure which was worse. She had faced losing a loved one, had barely come out on the other side. Would she really miss her powers if they vanished? It had never been something she had relied on, always seen as more of a weakness than anything else. Her head flew up at the thought.

Weakness.

She jumped from the chair, scanning the spines of the books strewn across the table between them.

“What is it?” Adira asked, crossing the room to her.

“There are outliers,” Solveig gasped, still searching.

Adira took a step back. “Do you need a break?”

“What?” Solveig asked absentmindedly, still searching for something that didn’t want to be found.

“Not two minutes ago you said there was no crossover, and now you’re claiming there’re outliers?”

“Me,” Solveig gritted, finally staring desperately at the books before her.

“What about you?”

“I’m an outlier. I come from two powerful family lines. According to the pattern, my family should lose members the way the Whitlock’s have. But we haven’t, we’re weakening. Compared to the rest of them, I have virtually no power to speak of.”

Adira bit their lip, as they took a deep breath, “Solveig…”

“What?” Her head swivelled to her friend.

“I’m not sure you are an outlier.” They stepped closer, placing a hand atop hers on the desk. “You’re already coughing blood from over exertion, Sol.” Sorrow flooded their gaze as Adira regarded their friend, watching as the realisation dawned on her.

Solveig fell back into her chair, still holding Adira’s hand. “It doesn’t make sense. None of the other records list people weakening before their deaths. They just died.”

She turned to face Adira fully then, “You said yourself perhaps my situation is different. Maybe mine is nature telling me to stop; that the twisting of my power is poisoning me the more I use it.” The hope that lay in Solveig’s gaze was enough to break Adira’s heart in two.

“Solveig I… how bad is it?”

“I don’t know. He never told me what was happening.” Adira pulled her into a tight embrace then, feeling the bone deep shivers that wracked her body.

“I’m scared,” Solveig whispered into their braids as she gripped on for dear life. “I should be ashamed that he thought he had to keep it from me. Guilty that even if he had said something, I would have failed him, anyway.”

“None of this is your fault,” Adira declared, pushing back to make sure that Solveig understood every word. “You did not do this to him. It was not for you to fix.” They gripped her arms tightly. “Look at me Solveig.”

It took a few moments, but eventually, she did, straight into Adira’s steadfast silver gaze. “Somewhere here is an answer. I believe that. I will not stop searching for it, and neither will you. Aldrik’s death is not your fault, do you hear me? It is not your burden to bear.”

“I wish it were that simple.”

“It is that simple. You were barely twenty-one when it happened, Solveig, a girl in love, with her whole life ahead of her. Why would you have feared the worst?”

When Solveig didn’t respond, Adira moved to pile the books that were still splayed across the table. “Go get some air,” they ordered. “I will tidy up here and when I’m finished, if you’re up to it, we can delve into your outlier theory. If not, we’ll find the others and head back to Farrowvale. Oracle knows we need a good night’s sleep ahead of the festival tomorrow, anyway.”

“I think I’ve skimmed about twenty of these damn books by now. They’re all merging into one giant mess of doom.” Wrenn groaned.

“If you need a break, go ahead,” Emmerich muttered, his head still down, eyes scanning line after line.

Wrenn eyed him for a moment before closing her own book and leaning toward him, “at least tell me you found something.”

“Maybe. It’s hard to tell. The Seers could be tricky with their wordings.”

Wrenn scoffed, “You mean how ‘royal born’ could mean one of you, or all of you damn head cases? Not to mention the lack of time frame.”

Emmerich raised a brow, glancing over at her. “Your snarking is not helping, either.”

“Just being honest.” She shrugged. “I get they can’t interfere, but surely they can be more specific with their doomsday tales.”

Emmerich slammed the book shut with an exasperated sigh. “Did you find anything useful? Or did you spend the last few hours fanning yourself with the pages?”

“Not sure this musty old thing,” she said, blowing dust off the tome, “would make a good fan.”

“Wrenn,” Emmerich warned, his patience wearing thin.

“Not one thing,” she sighed, “but then I wasn’t the one who grew up with a Seer for a grandparent, so what do I know about deciphering prophecies?”

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Emmerich muttered, leaning back in his chair.

“Stop bitching and tell me what you found,” she laughed, taking a seat next to him, “besides, you would have died of boredom by now without me around.”

“Yeah, sure.” He rolled his eyes.

“Focus, Em.” Wrenn snapped her fingers in his face. “Research now, declarations of love for me later, okay?”

“It is a damn miracle I haven’t thrown you overboard yet,” he said, swatting her hand away from his face.

“I suppose it’s lucky we’re on land then, isn’t it? You’ll have to come up with a new murder fantasy for me.”

Emmerich threw the heavy tome down before her, sending more dust flying, eliciting a coughing fit from the commander.

“Death by dust,” she mused when she caught her breath. “That’s a new one. Can you at least lie on my gravestone, make it sound cooler?”

“Read the page, would you?”

“Fine,” she said, turning to the book. When she was done, she looked back up at the prince, confusion clear on her face. “Was I supposed to understand any of that?”

“Read it again,” Emmerich pushed.

“Not sure how that will help, but fine,” she said, doing as he asked, focusing now on each word individually, for altogether, it made little sense. Except for one part, a few lines that to most would be completely inconspicuous, and yet it gave her pause.

“You see it?”

“The darkest eruption,

half marked for expulsion.

A terrible arrival,

in a fight for survival.

blinded to loss by unwavering devotion.”

“It’s about The Oracle,” she whispered. “It must be. A dark eruption? That’s gotta be the Caldera.” She paused for a moment. “Half marked for expulsion?” She turned to Emmerich.

“Could be Elithiend and Estrellyn, could be the dead families.”

“Terrible arrival, obviously The Oracle itself,” she muttered.

“A fight for survival?”

“Perhaps for those who didn’t go along with The Oracle?”

“Maybe,” she mused, unsure, “and the last line?”

“That’s what I noticed first,” Emmerich said grimly, “blinded to loss, it could be anything, loss of status, loss of friends.”

“Loss of power.” Wrenn supplied.

“And loss of life,” Emmerich finished, “all for their unwavering devotion to a false god.”

“Is it clear enough, though? Can it be explained another way?”

“Do you see any other meaning for this?”

“No, but then I barely saw this one, never mind a second option.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “Have you found another record of this prophecy?”

“No,” Emmerich sighed, “but I found the year it was recorded.”

“Which was?”

“A century before Estrellyn fell.”

Wrenn’s face turned to stone at the implication, “if this is what we think it is,” she gritted, “they had plenty of warning of what was to come.”

“Put yourself in their shoes,” Emmerich reasoned. “They were sworn to not interfere. They see only glimpses, not a complete picture.”

“Still, you’re gonna need more.” Wrenn shrugged. “That princess is about as stubborn as you are. One record of a prophecy that gives you exactly the proof you need will not cut it with her. You’ll need more accounts, and even then, it might not be enough.”

“It has to be,” Emmerich insisted.

“You’re asking a woman who was raised to view The Oracle as a benevolent, omniscient deity. Someone who has had it spoon fed to them all their lives that the Seers were frauds.” Wrenn paused, thinking for a moment.

“What is it?”

“Find proof.”

“Didn’t we already establish that?” Emmerich asked.

“Not of this.” Wrenn shook her head.

“Find a prophecy that came true. Find as many as you can. The more Seer prophecies you can prove authentic, the harder it will be for her to deny this one.”

Emmerich stared at his friend in shock. “That might be the most helpful thing you’ve said since we left Elithiend.” He smiled. “Go grab a drink. We’re in for a long night.”

Wrenn groaned, slumping down in her chair. “Should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut.”

“At least I’m making you do it now and not tomorrow.” Her head perked up at that.

“Save the world tonight, celebrate tomorrow,” she mulled it over, before thrusting out her hand between them. “Got yourself a deal, Prince.”