Marked Prince - Michelle M. Pillow Page 0,6

The G’am man stood naked as if to show off the stunning pattern created by the bold vessels beneath his skin. She saw a future in which he was telling someone they were his glory. His organs pulsed. He appeared too thin and willowy to do much damage, but the Dokka trader he talked to might do the job. Then there was the furry Lykan. He had anger in him, boiling beneath the surface. It wouldn’t take much to stir him to rage. Or perhaps the reptilian Slit’therne. Or, maybe still, any number of the humanoid creatures. Many of the people here had murder in them. If she found the right temper, embarrassed them with the right secret, then maybe…

Fiora frowned.

A chill worked its way through her, and she was struck with the memory of clay pits in the moonlight. It brought with it a rush of feelings. The clay pits were home. She used to lay in them with her sisters. She hadn’t felt safe since childhood when the darkness surrounded her and kept her out of the light. The sensation moved over her like an electrical current to center on her chest. “Who?”

Fiora looked around, searching the crowd. She hadn’t felt that particular impression since she’d last been with her sisters. But as she gazed from face to face, it was too much to hope that she would see them again. Salena and Piera were not there.

“Keep walking,” her guard ordered, nudging her lightly in the back.

Fiora found General Sten in the crowd. If he had not been in a position of power, there would be nothing remarkable about the man. He did not have a memorable face, a distinctive voice, or a particularly frightening natural demeanor. The general’s gaze found hers. He smiled, but the look did not reach his cold eyes, as if he willed her to see the future that he had planned for her. Not surprisingly, no images came to her. She did not see her own timeline.

“Come on,” the guard grumbled. This one wasn’t typically so abrupt with her, but she imagined he’d heard the trouble Rigger had gotten into because of her. She tried to remember the soldier’s name, but it was lost as visions flew at her from the crowd.

She made her way to a large chair on a platform. The eyes of those gathered found her as if by taking a seat she indicated to them that the show was about to begin. Their silent questions came at her, held together with anticipation and worry. The people inched closer. Timelines rushed in, fighting for attention within the small confines of her brain. A dull ache started in her temple and would only grow worse as the evening progressed.

She closed her eyes, trying to block them out.

Taw. The guard’s name was Taw. She saw him standing rigid and alone through banquets just like this one, an endless destiny of undistinguished service.

“I would ask you all to back away,” Taw said, the perfunctory tone of his voice revealing to anyone who cared to notice that this was not the first time he’d gone through the rules. “Prepare your one question carefully. You only get one so that everyone may have a chance. There will be no touching while she employs her second sight.”

Employ? Like it was a choice? Like she could choose to unemploy it?

She caught a vision of one of the dignitaries in a future chandoo trade and desperately wondered if he was carrying any now. The guard kept going through his list of rules. She ignored him. So would half the people here.

Taw ended his speech, but she didn’t want to open her eyes. The visions became more substantial, and she wondered what they’d given her in the injection. She wouldn’t put it past the general to order that she be given an extra-strong dose as a punishment.

“Yes, you, go on,” Taw said. “Ask your question.”

A nervous giggle sounded before a hesitant voice asked, “Will I…? When will I…?”

Fiora opened one eye to look at the woman briefly. The light stung, making the growing headache worse. Normally a crowd this size would cause her nose to start bleeding, but the doctors had found a temporary way of stopping it with medicine.

“When will my husband and I have a baby?” she asked. The man standing next to her widened his eyes, slightly alarmed.

Fiora closed her eyes, and she was compelled to find the answer to the question. “Fruit will not grow