The Girl at Midnight (31 page)

“But I knew you’d come back.”

Echo spun around, bringing up the dagger in her hand. A figure stood in the center of the room, face obscured by a hooded black cloak. The only part that Echo could see was the hands, the backs of which were covered in feathers of every color from indigo to chartreuse. As they tapered toward her fingers, the feathers gave way to iridescent scales, like the ones on Caius’s cheekbones. The Oracle bore the markings of both Avicen and Drakharin, and Echo had never seen anything like her before.

If the Oracle was as old as Caius said, Echo doubted the
dagger would do much damage, but it made her feel better. The unease in her gut grew, though she wasn’t sure why. The Oracle wasn’t supposed to be a threat, but Echo hated being taken by surprise.

“Welcome to my home.” The Oracle stepped forward, and Echo backed up. “Please put down your weapons. They won’t be necessary.” Her
s
’s were stretched thin, like taffy.

Echo didn’t turn around to see if Caius complied, but metal clattered against the stone floor. He’d dropped the sword. She kept the dagger in her hand.

“I didn’t hear the door open,” Echo said. “How did you get here?”

The Oracle wiggled her fingers and said, “Magic.”

Warm hands settled on Echo’s shoulders, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned her head just enough to see Caius behind her.

“It’s all right,” he said. “She’ll tell us what we need to know.” He looked back at the Oracle. “If I recall correctly, a gift is customary at this point.”

When the Oracle moved toward them, her cloak drifted over the floor, as if her feet didn’t touch the ground and she was floating instead of walking. Echo tried to step away, but all she managed to do was press her back against Caius’s chest. She swallowed past the fear rising in her throat. All of her instincts were telling her to flee, to hop back in the boat and cross the lake, to leave behind the Oracle and whatever secrets she held, to forget all about the firebird. But she’d never been one to run away, and she’d come too far to turn back now.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Caius,” said the Oracle. “A gift will be given in due time.” She slanted her hood
toward Echo. “I see you’ve followed the trail of bread crumbs the last girl left.”

The last girl?
Echo shrugged out of Caius’s grip. She needed room to breathe, to think. “What girl? What are you talking about?”

“The last one who came around asking questions,” the Oracle said. “She didn’t like the answers I gave, so she decided to pass her problems on to you. When you picked up that music box, you put in motion a series of events that led you to me. Every action in this universe has consequences. Every domino topples the next. It’s been waiting so long for something to trigger its release.”

“What has?” Echo asked.

“The firebird,” the Oracle replied. “What else?”

Echo’s pulse pounded with such force, Caius could probably hear it. “It’s here? It’s alive?”

The Oracle’s face remained in shadow, but Echo was pretty sure there was a smirk hidden under that hood. “Oh yes. Very much so. And it is closer than you think, though sometimes, before something can rise, first it must fall.” With a glance in Caius’s direction, she added, “The last girl didn’t bring him along. That was her first mistake.”

Echo shot a look at Caius, who was staring at her, brow furrowed, as if he were seeing her for the first time. She didn’t like it. None of this was proving remotely likable.

“I don’t understand,” Echo said.

The Oracle didn’t seem to care. “Oh, you will,” she replied, cool as an autumn breeze. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. The clock is ticking, and you have places to be. It’s nearly midnight. Tell me, child, what did your Ala tell you?”

The sweat on Echo’s palms threatened to loosen her grip
on the dagger. There was no reason for the Oracle to be so focused on her. She was just a girl, looking for a bird. “How do you know about the Ala?”

“I know more than you could possibly imagine, child.” The Oracle picked up a small, yellowed skull from the shelf with the bones. She examined it for a second before gently placing it back. “It’s my reason for being.”

It wasn’t the answer that Echo wanted, but she had a feeling it was the only one she’d be getting. She wanted to find her answers and get out as quickly as possible. If she had to play the Oracle’s game to do so, then that was exactly what she’d do. She swallowed before speaking, taking a moment to calm her nerves. “The Ala said that the firebird would rise soon.”

“It’s already begun,” the Oracle said. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

The dagger in Echo’s hand, along with the locket and key dangling from the chain around her neck, sent out deep, pulsating waves of heat in response.

The Oracle bowed her head in the direction of the wooden door opposite the entrance. “Down that hall, you will find a door to which you hold the key. Behind
that
door, you will find another gateway, one that you must unlock, as only you can. What you find in that room will show you the firebird. But remember, some doors are more difficult to open than others.”

“Do you ever just give a straight answer?” As Echo asked the question, she almost felt like herself again. Almost, but not quite. Again, that great, unknowable thing loomed over her, and she felt powerless against it.

“No.” The Oracle smiled, forked tongue flicking over her fangs. “Was that answer straight enough?”

Of course. A smart-ass Oracle
, Echo thought.
Because why would this be easy when nothing else is?

The Oracle turned to Caius, content to leave Echo staring at her, dissatisfied.

“And might I add,” the Oracle said, “it’s so lovely to see you again … Prince.”

Echo froze.
Prince?

She turned to Caius, clutching the dagger so tightly that her palm hurt, but the solidity of it anchored her. He was just a mercenary, contracted by the Dragon Prince. Not the prince himself. He was simply Caius. But the name of the Dragon Prince had been unknown, out of use for over a century, lost to time and willful forgetting.

The Oracle continued, “It’s funny, isn’t it? The way people always fail to see what’s right in front of them.” The Oracle leaned in to Echo, sniffing her hair. Echo flinched. “What’s been in front of them the whole time.”

“Prince?” Echo said. Caius reached for her, contrition in his eyes, as if he wanted to apologize, but she stepped back. If he had an explanation to give, Echo wasn’t interested in making it easy for him. “Why is she calling you a prince?”

The Oracle made a strange hissing sound that might have been a laugh. She walked over to the harpsichord and
sat down on the small stool in front of it. “Tell her the truth, Caius. That you have no intention of letting her keep the firebird. That you intend to take it for yourself. That the Dragon Prince did not hire you to steal the firebird. That you
are
the Dragon Prince.”

The words were stones, sinking to the bottom of Echo’s stomach. They’d come so far together. She’d killed for him, and he wasn’t even the person he’d said he was. She’d
trusted
him. After a lifetime of keeping herself closed off to all but a select few, she’d opened up to him in ways she’d never expected. She’d turned her back on Rowan, put her friends’ lives in danger, and all he’d done was lie to her. His betrayal cut as sharply as a knife to the chest.

“Is that true?” Echo asked. “Caius, tell me it’s not. Tell me she’s screwing with me, because I don’t know if I can handle the alternative.”

He parted his lips as if to respond, but all that came out was a shaky sigh. He ground his fingers into his temples, as though rubbing away a headache, and said, “I’m sorry.”

Two words. Two small words, and Echo’s world collapsed under the weight of them.

“I trusted you,” she bit out through clenched teeth. Once she said it, the words ran through her mind, a mantra that twisted the knife deeper and deeper.
I trusted you. I trusted you. I trusted you
.

Caius held out a hand to her as if he was begging for forgiveness. He wasn’t going to get it. “Echo, I—”

“I killed for you!”

He recoiled, as if Echo had punched him. She wished she had. She wanted to sink the dagger into his chest the way she’d plunged it into Ruby’s back. She’d taken a life
because of him, and he was nothing more than a manipulator, a liar. He buried his face in his hands and sighed behind them. Running his fingers through his hair, he said, “Echo, I can explain.”

“I don’t care what you have to say,” Echo said, stepping away from him. She couldn’t be near him. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. All she saw was the person she’d kissed in the forest, the person who held her as she cried, soothing her to sleep. “You’ll just lie to me again.”

She grabbed the key and the locket at her neck, pulling hard on the chain until it snapped. She slipped the locket into her jacket pocket, but kept the key held tightly in her fist. Caius’s eyes, dark and shiny with what looked suspiciously like unshed tears, followed the motion of her hand. What the Oracle had said was true, she realized. He meant to take the key from her.

“I never lied to you about anything important,” Caius pleaded. “My title doesn’t change anything. I meant everything I said.”

A broken excuse for a laugh dug its talons in her throat and scratched its way out, dragging her innards with it. “Anything important? You didn’t think the fact that you’re the
Dragon Prince
was important? Oh, God, the things you must have done. How many deaths are you responsible for? How many Avicen have you killed?”

It was one thing for him to lie to her, but to try to talk his way out of it was just insulting. Echo might have been played for a fool once, but she wasn’t going to let it happen twice. Not with him.

Caius took a step forward, and Echo lifted the dagger. He stopped, but said, “Echo, please, let me explain—”

“No,” she said. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t have the right. I’m going to go find the firebird. Without you. You goddamn liar.”

“Please.” Caius moved to stand between Echo and the wooden door leading deeper into the Oracle’s cavern. “Nothing’s changed. Let me go with you. We’ll find the firebird, just like we planned.”

“Why?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. The nerve of him. Pretending they were still in this together, that they were on the same side. She’d been brought low before, but no one had ever made her feel like such an idiot. “Why would I let you have it? The Oracle’s right. You’re going to steal it. You’re going to take it back to the Drakharin, aren’t you? Was that your plan all along?”

“No.” Caius spoke, his voice laced with desperation. “I meant what I said. I want peace. I’ll use it to protect you, to protect everyone. Please, Echo.”

“And how am I supposed to trust a single word you say?” She circled around him, bringing herself closer to the door the Oracle had said would lead her to the firebird. “You’re a liar, Caius. I don’t trust liars.”

The Oracle tsked from her seat in the corner. “So stubborn, these children,” she said, as if Caius and Echo weren’t right there. “Fighting fate like they can stop it.”

“No, Echo, please,” Caius said, hands out, pleading. “I have to find the firebird. If I fail, we both lose everything. You’ll lose your home. I saw it, Echo, in a dream. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.”

Echo stilled. Her pulse roared in her ears. “My home? What about my home?”

Caius inched toward her as if she were some kind of
frightened woodland creature. She tightened her grip on the dagger. No way in hell was she going down without a fight.

“Your home. The library. You live there,” he said. “I know I’ve given you every reason not to trust me, but
please
. Trust me on this.”

He was close now, no more than six feet away. Echo watched him, cataloging everything the Ala had taught her about reading body language. His left leg twitched, just a tad, but it was enough to telegraph his next move. Echo clutched the key tighter, silver thorns digging into her skin, dagger raised in her other hand. When Caius lunged for her, she was ready. Catching his leg with hers, she sent him crashing to the floor, smashing the heel of her hand into his mouth. He rolled with the impact and was halfway up before Echo was on him with the knife.

“Stop.” She pressed the dagger against Caius’s throat. A drop of scarlet beaded on his skin.

Stop
.

Echo stopped. The voice was in her mind, but it wasn’t hers. She shook her head as if she could knock it loose from where it clung to her brain.

“Try to take this key from me one more time,” Echo said. The tremor in her hand made a thin trickle of Caius’s blood track down his neck, so vulnerable, so pale. “And I swear to God, I will kill you.”

No, you won’t
.

“Shut up,” Echo hissed.

Caius held up his hands, placating. The sadness in his eyes was deep enough to drown them both. “I didn’t say anything.”

His is not the life this blade was meant to take
.

Echo shook her head again, while Caius looked on in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

You do
, the voice said.
You just wish you didn’t
.

Caius’s lip was bloodied from where she’d smashed her hand into it, gashing it against his teeth. She remembered the feel of those lips on hers, not hesitant and unfamiliar as they had been in the forest, but soft and slow as they shared unhurried kisses in a cabin by the sea. It was not her memory.

“No,” Echo said. The blade quivered against Caius’s throat again. She was distantly aware of him asking whom she was speaking to, what she meant, but all she could hear was the voice in her head.

You know what you have to do
, it whispered.

“Echo,” Caius said. “What are you—”

The room shook, stealing his response. A few of the cat figurines fell to the floor, shattering into tiny shards of porcelain. The Oracle sprang to her feet, snaking out a hand to catch one of the skulls before it hit the ground.