I close my eyes as the memory surfaces. He’d said I was as cursed as my father and that he should’ve been king. He’d charged at me, knocking us both over the crumbling balcony railing. I can still remember the air surging to claim me, the panic that rose in my throat, the way my stomach seemed to plummet inside me in the same way my body was about to do.
“Do you need a break?” Royce’s voice shatters the memory.
I press against the cool rock and into the small bit of shade the overhang above us offers. I take a few steadying breaths.
The forest is laid out at the foot of the mountain. I can just make out the fields past it. Maybe the speck I see past all that is the palace—I can’t tell from this distance.
But it’s the reminder I need to push off the rock and keep going. Because I can’t let Dionysus destroy my people. So I follow Royce up the path.
“Kora,” Royce calls, “over here.”
I climb over a pile of fallen rocks, and as I round the corner, the path diverges in several directions. Royce stands in front of a signpost up ahead but doesn’t move in any direction.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, coming up beside him.
He points to the faded lettering etched into the weathered wood.
If it’s the Oracle you seek,
You are very near.
You can only choose one path.
All others disappear.
“This must be what Tilner meant.” I’d been hoping he was wrong, that there’d only be one path leading directly to the Oracle.
Royce’s brow furrows in concentration. “If I had to guess, we probably only get one shot at picking the right way.”
I stare down the three paths. They look identical: gray pebble pathways leading toward jagged boulders that block the rest of the trail from view. I run my fingers through my hair, catching them in my braid.
How are we ever supposed to know which path to choose?
I scan for anything that might make one route look different from another. A flower, a bird, a breeze.
Anything.
But they’re all as still as the landscapes woven into the palace tapestries.
I swallow. I know how much rides on this decision. I stare more intently at each path. As I do, small wooden signs appear at the base of each pathway.
I move toward the first. In the same jagged lettering as the other sign, it reads:
Wisdom can be given out
For a certain price.
But do not take a single step
If it’s not worth your life.
It is worth my life, I think. And my father’s. But I move toward the next sign.
Changing fate is hard indeed,
But it can be done.
Look not to the past you’ve trod,
But to the future that you’ve won.
I definitely want to change things, but something about the wording scares me. I move to the final sign.
Picking your path is not easy;
It may puzzle your mind.
Choose this one if you’re ready,
To seek what you can’t find.
I run my hands through my hair—through where my crown should be—and press against my scalp, where a headache is forming from trying to make sense of these riddles.
I turn back toward Royce. He’s busy studying the other riddles.
“If she doesn’t want anyone to find her, why does she even have signs?” I say when he finally lifts his gaze. Any of these could lead to her.
“Which one sounds the truest to you?” Royce asks.
I go over the signs again, ignoring the pounding coursing through my head. Something in me says to go for the first one. I need wisdom no matter the cost.
“That’s what I was thinking too,” Royce says after I reply.
We move to the base of the path and stand there a moment, shoulder to shoulder. I can’t think about what happens if we take this pathway and end up being wrong.
I won’t think about it.
“Remember,” Royce says, holding his hand out to me, “we’re in this together.”
I slide my hand into his.
With a deep breath, we step forward. We haven’t even taken two steps when the other pathways and their signs melt away, disappearing from view.
Our path is sealed.
CHAPTER 5
After nearly an hour of walking, the path hasn’t changed. I can’t even be sure we’re actually moving. I swear I’ve kicked the same pebble at least three times now. Not to mention I’m pretty sure the same breeze washes over us at exactly the same moment over and over again when we pass the small rock overhang. Even the tufts of grass sticking out of the gravel are starting to look the same—five blades pointing straight up and three blades bent to the side. I shake my head clear and take a deep breath. We’ve only just started. I can’t let the mountain get to me, because we could be here for days. Still, I kick the pebble again and send it reeling down the mountainside.
As we pass beneath the now-familiar rock ledge, the same breeze comes tearing toward us, tangling my cloak around my legs and trying to trip me up. I rip my cloak free and try to enjoy the last of the breeze. At least it provides a little relief from the heat. Sweat drips from my brow. Even my hands are sweating inside my gloves. I clench them into fists and keep going.
The next time we pass the overhang, it’s only been a few minutes.
Royce’s shoulders slump, and he turns back to face me. “We’re going in circles, aren’t we?”
My throat is too dry to respond—not to mention I don’t want to say the word out loud.
Royce scans his jacket, pulling a loose thread until it unravels a length or two. He rips it free and ties it to a small plant sheltering beneath the overhang, which has three small white bulbous flowers bobbing in the breeze. He ties the string around the middle one. “Now we’ll know for sure,” he says.
He offers me his hand as we move forward. We each take deliberate steps, both afraid our suspicions will be confirmed.
My heart drops when I see the pebble I’ve kicked down the mountain countless times appear on the path before me once more.
And then the overhang comes into view. Three white bulbous flowers nod eagerly in greeting. And on the middle one is a string.
I stop in my tracks, trying to convince myself the string isn’t there. But I can’t deny the fact.
Royce pulls it free from the plant and lets it float down the mountainside. We both stand there, watching it disappear on the perfectly timed breeze that again whips my cloak around my body. Only this time, it feels like it’s trying to pull me over the edge too, after the string.
I kick my legs free and cross my arms.
I’m ready to tell Royce we should give up, that we must’ve chosen wrong. That I chose wrong.
Then I think about what that means. It means going back with no answers. It means abandoning Lagonia to Dionysus. It means giving up on my people. And I can’t give up—not with so much at stake.
I charge forward.
“Kora,” Royce calls behind me.
But I don’t stop. Because I can’t. I’ll walk this path until my legs give out. Or until I find that Oracle. Or until I think of a better plan. I just can’t go back.
“Kora, wait,” he calls again.
I don’t wait. I keep going, and just as I round the next bend, the sound hits me first. Water. And lots of it.