37. Wolfgang
37
WOLFGANG
M ercy and I return to our living quarters, an insufferable silence tailing us. The crackles and pops of the roaring fire inside the drawing room’s fireplace remind me that the world itself has not gone silent. I’m simply co-ruling with a brute who retreats into silence whenever a problem arises, and today the problem happens to be us.
Upon hearing our friends' theory, I was just as rattled as Mercy, but someone had to save face for the meeting. No legitimate leads about the rebellion yet. The lack of information tickled my suspicion, but my wariness didn’t make it very far, caught in a sticky web woven by Mercy herself, my mind dense with the thought of her.
Still, I made a mental note to have Dizzy add more men to the job. Gemini convinced us he would no doubt collect some valuable intel during Tithe Season, commencing in a few days.
Noticing that Mercy is trying to head towards her wing, I catch her arm with my hand. She stops mid-step, her shoulders jumping to her neck. Slowly, she swivels around, her eyes downcast to where my fingers connect with her wrist before lifting them to meet mine.
“What?” she says. Her voice isn’t as grave as the curves of her mouth; no, there’s a wistfulness to her tone that has me squeezing her wrist a little harder.
“This … thing … between us, Mercy,” I respond tentatively, “It needs to be discussed.”
She tries to shake her arm out of my grasp, but I don’t budge. “I’m tired, Wolfgang.”
“The sun has barely set,” I counter through clenched teeth. Her arm turns limp, her expression fading into something I can’t quite put my finger on. “I know you’d rather ignore it, but we can’t evade this forever. The gods won’t let us.”
Sensing she won’t run away now, I let her go, and she crosses her arms immediately.
“Do you really believe those two?” she says with a dry scoff. “Gemini thrives on chaos, and Constantine is just as enamored with mayhem as he is.”
“Agreed,” I say slowly, rubbing a hand over my beard. “But …” Mercy tenses, her eyes focusing on a spot somewhere behind me, mouth pressed into a thin line. “You can’t deny that—” I shift from one foot to the other. “Well … that there might be truth in what they hypothesized.”
Her gaze focuses back on me. “Truth?” she says, her tone carrying a hint of bewilderment. “That the gods' plan is for us to—” She stumbles over her words, her arms tightening over her chest. “To be …” Her eyes widen but she never finishes her sentence.
I let the silence fill in the gaps for her. I shrug. The action is just as unsure as I am.
My heart is in my throat. “I claim to hate you, Mercy.” My sigh is heavy with memories of our last few weeks spent together. I take a step toward her, my fingers grazing the hem of her short black skirt. Her gaze is just as intense as mine. I lean close to her ear. “And yet,” I whisper before biting her earlobe. Her breath hitches as her body relaxes against me, shoulders falling. “The sound of your throaty moans haunts my every waking moment.”
Her hands grip my lapels, her forehead falling softly to my shoulder like a leaf drifting slowly to the ground on a crisp autumn morning. I breathe in her perfume. It leaves me light-headed with need.
Finally, she speaks. Her voice is quiet, as if worried she’ll be overheard by the gods themselves. “There’s only one person who might have answers for us.”
I haven’t stepped foot inside the Lottery hall since I pushed Mercy down the sacrificial pit and stormed out of there incensed with justified fury.
That was five weeks ago.
And even with what has recently transpired between us; I still stand by what I did. She deserved a lot more than a mere fall into old bones and an injured arm.
Now here we are. Back where it all began.
And oh, how things have changed.
But—
Something in Gemini’s words rings true. Maybe Mercy was just enacting a subconscious desire placed there by our gods. Maybe the outcome of the Lottery was just a fateful denouement of something much larger than the two of us. Larger than all of us.
“So we just … wait?” Mercy mutters, slowly walking onto the obsidian platform.
“It’s our best bet,” I reply, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I follow her up. “Hopefully, she’ll sense our need for an audience.”
“Sounds a tad cryptic.”
“This, coming from the one who answers death’s call,” I reply offhandedly.
Mercy turns to face me, regarding me with a hint of amusement.
“What?” I ask. She shrugs, her eyes sweeping around the hall, a minuscule grin fighting to break over her lips. “Recalling your coup, Crèvecoeur?” I ask with surprising levity.
“What is it now?” The Oracle’s voice bounces against the walls, and I have the ridiculous urge to duck and hide but refrain from moving at all.
We find her standing near the door, her hands tucked and hidden inside opposite sleeves, her face as unimpressed as ever.
With quick steps, Mercy comes to stand by me. I can’t help but wonder if it stems from an unconscious urge for us to appear more united.
“We seek—” Mercy clears her throat, unease written clear across her face. “Consult.”
The Oracle takes a few steps toward us but keeps her distance. “If this is about your recent involvement ,” she starts briskly, eyes bouncing between us. “I thought I had made myself clear at the Lottery.”
I can’t conceal my surprise, my hand finding Mercy’s wrist. Still, I feel mildly idiotic to have even entertained the belief that the Oracle wouldn’t have already known.
“What do you mean exactly?” I say slowly, my voice tinged with trepidation.
The Oracle huffs out a small breath before she speaks. “You shall rule together.”
Mercy barks out a shocked laugh and takes a few steps back as if physically pushed. My heartbeat spikes as I carefully digest her words and what she’s implying.
“You don’t mean …” I trail off, my mind splintering.
“I’ve known of your union long before your births. Be wise to remember that the gods make no mistakes.”
It’s my turn to push an incredulous laugh, my hand raking over my face, my thoughts a burning, flaming mess.
Mercy steps down from the platform, approaching the Oracle as if being closer to her will somehow help the spiraling effect she’s most likely experiencing. I know I am. As if invisibly leashed, I follow her down.
“What about the divine law that speaks against it?” Mercy says with urgency. “Was it even real? Did it ever even matter?”
The Oracle’s lips are a hard line, her gaze steady. “It was. It is no longer.”
Mercy scoffs and throws up her arms in exasperation. “What was the point of any of it then but to keep us under their thumbs?”
The Oracle cocks her head, her eyes narrowing. “Where do you think your thirst for absolute dominion comes from, child?” she says harshly. “Have you forgotten whose image you have been created from?”
Mercy snaps her mouth shut, seemingly taken aback. Her eyes slice to mine, her gaze cloudy with horror-stricken confusion. I fight the need to pull her into my embrace.
My focus returns to the Oracle. “Are we the only ones exempt?”
Oracle gives her head a small shake. “The gods are ushering Pravitia into a new era. This one law has been dissolved.” She takes the time to peer at us both. “You and your eventual progenies will be responsible for a smooth passage into this epoch.”
Without another word, she turns and walks out of the hall, leaving us speechless and reeling from the enormity of what has just been divulged.