Whatever thought or memory of his the Oracle tasted is one that makes him feel even more confident in his position. Rowan’s surprised expression slips away and a smug smile plays on his lips. Master Crue told us that an Oracle can draw memories and thoughts from a man’s brain-take a sample of his soul, so to speak-with only her touch. Her face is shrouded in layers of gauzy veils to protect her holy visage from our unclean eyes, but I can tell that she’s studying what she holds with great interest. She cups the invisible thread in her hand. As the Oracle pulls her hand away, she pinches her fingertips together as if she were pulling a thread out of Rowan’s skull. He looks stunned for a moment, blinking his eyes.

The Oracle reaches out her pale blue fingers and touches Rowan’s forehead. Surely he would be their first choice for one of the Champions if the decision were left solely to them. The Oracle passes two more Elites without even glancing their way, and then stops abruptly beside Rowan, King Ren’s prized son, and the favored of the Court. Something more important is going on-this year’s Champions will be required to do more than procure new Boons for the Court’s harem. One collective question occupies everyone’s mind: Why would the Oracle deign to participate in the annual Choosing of the Champions? To be Chosen by the Oracle would be an honor unparalleled by any other in this realm. Most of us have never seen an Oracle before, and to hear one speak is a rarity usually reserved for kings and priests. Her presence is accompanied by a buzz of energy and excitement that flows through the crowd of spectators.

The Oracle has passed two entire rows of Underlords without stopping to inspect a single one. This moment is what I’ve been preparing for. She is here to help Choose the Champions, and despite the fact that Rowan and the other Elites make it a point to tell me that I will never be Chosen, I intend to be one of them. I try to lock away my doubtful thoughts as I watch the Oracle make her way up and down the ranks of Underlords.

It has been ten years, and regardless of everything I’ve done to try to change their minds, the Court still speaks of me as if I am unworthy of my birthright. I did the unforgivable the day my mother died, and for that I’ve been punished every moment of my life.

The Shadow Prince by Bree Despain