The Oracle

Elaine Gao

Description

She sees his fate. Fate rules his way. Can either escape?
The Helot slave and the Spartan Prince shouldn’t cross paths. Yet supernaturally, Lyra and Leonid’s fates happened to become interwoven.
Lyra, the one true oracle in the temple, saw him bleeding to death in her visions. Refusing to accept this end, she tagged along on his treacherous journey to Athens. She had a simple undercover mission at the Temple of Delphi, to compete for a priestess position, but the Pythia in charge had other plans in mind— an inhumane set of trials designed for betrayals and bloodshed. The strong resistance Lyra encountered forced her to race with time. But from the start, are futures able to be rewritten?
Leonid loathed the throne of Sparta that was paved by his brothers’ assassinations. He had fought tooth and nail to consolidate his young kingship, but his revenge, however, didn’t account for her, the girl he once vowed to protect. Newfound feelings for her thus began to get in the way. As he walks a dangerous line between Athenian rivals, he must weigh her and Sparta on opposite ends of the balance. But only fate will know the ultimate price of his decision.

Sujets

• Historical
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 26 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663243416
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE ORACLE
 
 
 
 
 
Elaine Gao
 
 
 

 
 
THE ORACLE
 
 
Copyright © 2022 Elaine Gao.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names, and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4342-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4341-6 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022916863
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 10/19/2022
 
After Leonid becomes king of Sparta, he reunites with the former helot, Lyra, his onetime friend, and now, the city-state’s seeress. Despite being invited to Athens on the pretense of a marriage proposal that would secure an alliance between the two long-standing enemy nations, Leonid senses a trap and requests that Lyra serves as his spy in the high priestess’ temple. After experiencing a foreboding vision about Leonid’s future, Lyra agrees in the hope she might protect the man for whom she once held such strong affections. But after arriving before the high priestess, it becomes clear she has her own designs on power and glory, and Lyra finds herself in a deadly competition alongside oracles from elsewhere across the Greek world. Can Lyra use her abilities and alliances to survive the high priestess’ deadly machinations, or will she succumb to a political game of treachery and murder?
The Oracle is a nail-biting romp into the tension-fueled and deadly heights of the rivalry between Sparta and Athens that offers a thrilling perspective of the religious, military, and political life of the age. In her debut novel, Elaine Gao uses varied and vivid descriptions and in-depth research to striking effect to immerse the reader in an Ancient Greece that feels substantial, historical, and dangerous. The voices of her characters, with their varied backgrounds and interests, feel independent and consistent in a way that brings them to life inside the mind of the reader long after the book is finished. While the pacing and structure of the book can sometimes make the story difficult to follow, particularly toward the beginning, Elaine interweaves an intelligent plot that comes together in a stirring and increasingly fast-paced conclusion. The Oracle is a remarkable first novel by a promising young writer, and I urge historical fiction fans everywhere to watch Elaine’s budding author career with hopeful anticipation.
~ Dan Cross (The Open Book Editor)For Mom, the most amazing woman, who helped me invite Jesus into my life
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Epilogue
Author's Note
Acknowledgments
PROLOGUE
The thin threads leaped and dipped along the spaces among my fingers, soon interlacing into one sturdy strand that measured thirteen handbreadths. I glanced at the shears on my lap and continued.
I stroked the half-finished twine, each warp and weft, absorbed in the beautiful spirit I created. I remembered the put-off project resting by my feet and picked it up—a spirit of honor and equal brilliance.
I placed the two pieces of twine side by side, twisted out a thin strand from each, and braided them together. I resumed working.

1
Icy water. Biting zephyr. Stinging eyes. Numb skin.
Lyra’s befuddled head, leaden with the water’s weight, pounded against her skull; the arteries of her temples pulsated, throbbing harder by the second. She held her breath as long as she could. But then, as if forgetting she was underwater, her lips parted a fraction, and a current of turbid lake water seized the opening to invade her insides.
Thrashing was no use, not with the restraints secured over her wrists and ankles. Gradually, her limbs limped sideways like those of a broken doll. The edges of her vision glitched red and black. Dying this way wasn’t so bad. All she had to do was surrender herself to the waves’ clutches. The initial brutality of the underwater tides morphed into a hollow lightness as they slowly took her through a bed of floating algae. She waited for her body to sink down to the bottom.
Her vision dimmed until even the luminescent plankton at the floor of the lake faded into the abyss.
Death was close, hugging a lover before dragging her down.
Then the rope cords around her wrists pulled taut, and she was hauled up to the surface savagely.
At least grant me a peaceful death, would you?
Her slick hair, well past her shoulders, dripped, and her soaked garment, defenseless against the thin films of ice spreading on the hem of her skirt, clung to her body. She lay sprawled by the mountain tarn. Gathering her strength, she spluttered and glared into the hideous faces framed by the shadows of their hoods.
Hosiois—the Holy Ones. Repulsive creatures. Centuries of hiding away from the sun had scrunched up their skin and blackened it to a freakish sallow color. Suspicious fluids washed down their fleshy warts, hunched backs, and scaled hands, and their globular eyes were streaked with blood.
“Curse you,” she said, wheezing.
They pasted their slimy fingers on her skin, and their foul breath assaulted her every follicle as they carted her off for the third time to their master, Tobias, who was standing outside the temple in his floor-length robe with his arms folded, squinting. On the outside, the prophetae, the oracle interpreter, was normal looking, but years spent with these animals had long ago made him the same inside.
They released Lyra from behind. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the freezing marble floor at Tobias’s feet. There was no pain, only numbness climbing up her paralyzed calves.
The hosiois gestured with their barely intelligible hand signs for her to get up, bow, and scrape to the master, to prostrate herself before him. But Lyra lay there unmoving. She hadn’t the energy to do anything, degrading or not.
Tobias wended his way to her back. He wrenched her up and stiffly circled his arms around her.
She squirmed uneasily. His arms were serpentine.
“Have you finally learned to obey, my sweet little oracle?” His hand reached out and slowly caressed the bare skin on her waist. “I must say, though, such meekness doesn’t suit you.”
She cringed as his repugnant fingers found his way to her front and slid down her abdomen. Not yet , she told herself. He would throw me back into the lake again . Yet she did a lousy job of hiding her disgust.
With a violent tug, Tobias ripped down her peplos, giving her a plunging neckline. A sharp sibilant sound sprang up and died at the edge of her lips.
Her temper flare put a slight smirk on his face. “What an inept actor you are,” he cooed, making goose bumps tingle all over her skin. “You know I’m dying to touch you, my darling little lyre.”
She bit her lip at that nickname coming out of his vile mouth, the nickname that only her beloved brother had the right to. Her breath hitched as his mouth lightly found her neck, barely touching but hanging there, a constant reminder. He was testing her limits again.
Nausea overtook her when she remembered how close he had been last time, on that dark and reckless night when many unspoken deeds had been better unseen.

A flight of stairs led her inside. She lingered and looked about, blenching, at the eyeless figurines carved on the wall and then at the gaping space between each towering column. Doors hid chambers beyond chambers, and their faint glows trickled out of the darkness. There were no guards to stop her. But there was nowhere to escape either.
A cloaked gargoyle-like sculpture atop an elevated altar loomed over Lyra. His shadow consumed her as well as the length of the high-ceilinged hall she crossed. Candlelight illuminated the hand of the figure, revealing thick reptilian scales traveling down to the wrists, which, with air, ruffled. Lyra screamed and broke into a run.
A set of footsteps followed. She ran faster, tripping over the hem of her skirt.
Another shape, leaner and with straighter proportions, caught her. The man had hair that reminded her of golden w