The Oracle

"Marriage?" Beatrice repeated incredulously.

Karin grinned over his teacup. "Yes, it's a beneficial match. The duke of the westlands."

"The duke."

"My, Asaemia, are you a parrot? It seems like I'm only speaking to my echo."

Beatrice clenched her fist. "Forgive me, holy father, but surely you're not serious."

Karin set down his teacup. "It is very important that you do this for me. Don't you want the holy lands to thrive?"

Beatrice's lips thinned into a hard line. There was no use arguing with him. On top of being her father, he was also the archbishop of the church. The highest power in the Vaelia isles. She could not defy him.

"It is your duty as Oracle of our country."

Oracle. It was only a title to shackle her to him. But it nonetheless worked. He was right. She had a duty to her people and to the gods she served. The gods that were ever present in her head, always, even then, screaming in her head. Their voices combining so none of them could be determined, becoming a hum in her head. They screamed for release. They screamed commands. And sometimes, very quietly, they would whisper the future.

She pressed her hand to the mark on her cheek, hidden under her veil. A habit she had whenever she was distressed. It burned as if it was still the same day it was etched onto her cheek.

'Foolish girl,' a god told her. 'He will bring your end.'

'I see your death,' whispered another.

'I see your pain.'

'I see your suffering.'

'There is no escape.'

Beatrice despaired. She was still a child, both body and mind. A girl who had not yet come of age, forced into a situation. But even still, she pitied the man who would be forced to be her husband. She knew of him though she did not know him. He was ten years older than her, still in the prime of his life. The wealthiest man in the entire country. She heard he was kind, handsome, and a womanizer. He didn't need a child to support, not one that was damaged like her.

She wondered if Karin had even bothered to tell her betrothed about her mark. Or would it be a fun surprise on the wedding night?

Karin didn't comment when Beatrice fell silent. He just sat, staring at her blankly, letting the air around them become as heavy as lead. It was only when Beatrice felt as if she might suffocate under the pressure that Karin finally dismissed her.

Beatrice tried to remain as calm as possible as she left the room. But as soon as the door clicked softly behind her, she broke out into a run, wanting to put as much distance between her and the archbishop as possible. She ignored the guards shouting behind her. She only stopped when she reached her mother's room. Her heart fell when she realized her mother was not there.

Beatrice tore the veil from her head, avoiding looking in the mirror. She fell onto the bed, shutting her eyes.

Her gods were screaming. Her head was pounding. And her mother was not there to help her.

There was a soft knock on the door. "Your holiness," her guard, Ascanio, called out to her.

She rolled onto her stomach and ignored him.

"Your holiness," he called again. "Would you like me to call for your mother?"

Beatrice sat up, pulling a pillow to her chest. She couldn't quite figure out what was happening. Ascanio was rude, blunt. He was always cold to Beatrice. What was with the sudden kindness?

Was it a change of heart? Was he trying to appeal to her now that she would be married to the richest man in Vaelia?

Or was it because he pitied her?

She hated pity above all. It was why she covered her face. She couldn't stand looking at people's faces when they saw her mark. Fear, for what it represented, and pity, for how it would scar her for life.

Sometimes she wished she could cut the mark from her face and leave a truly fearsome scar.

'It serves you right," a god whispered. 'Never forget what you are.'

It was impossible to forget. Though she couldn't remember the details, she could always remember the pain. The hatred on people's faces. The feeling of betrayal and then hopelessness.

She never knew what she was for sure. An oracle, a daughter, the vessel of the gods, a killer, a monster…. Poisonous.

She had been called so many things she wondered if they all could be true.

Ah.. one more thing to add to her list of names.. A wife.

Even the thought made bile rise in her throat.