23

                                    

                                          
F23
BRAN 
Bran shot out of his throne seat, lunging towards Maria as if he could break her fall and catch her before she hit the ground, but she was already on the ground. He'd been too angry to notice the way her eyes were fluttering and the red haze that covered his vision had stopped him from catching the little movement where she swayed on her feet.
He turned accusing eyes on the oracle. "What the fuck did you do to her?"
"Watch your tone," The oracle warned, her creepy eyes flashing in what he assumed was anger. "I didn't do anything. You were sitting right here."
That was true. He had been sitting right there and the oracle had not touched Maris. But it didn't mean she had not done anything to her. Why else had Maria fainted? 
"Then what happened?" He wondered out loud. 
"I don't know. She looks a bit pale." The oracle drew closer, her head tilted appraisingly and a curious look on her fcae. She stopped when she was just in front of him where he was crouched in front of Maria, then she bent down and placed her hand on Maria's forehead. "Her shields are down."
"What?"
Bran searched, trying to get into Maria's head, but her shields were firmly in place. Concentrating, he tried again, but the result was the same. 
"Her shields are not down." 
"They are," The oracle whispered, surprise etched on every part of her face and also her voice. "There's something stopping us from accessing her thoughts and I don't know what it is." She withdrew her hand from Maria's forehead and faced him. "I don't think she knows what it is either. But whatever it is, its stopping us from accessing her thoughts."
Bran could only stare at the oracle in shock, his mouth hanging open. Never in his immortal life had he seen nor heard of a case where one lowered their shields and yet their thoughts remained inaccessible.
"You're saying she lowered her shields but there's something—something else—preventing us from seeing her thoughts?" When the oracle nodded, he asked, "How is that even possible?"
"She's a peculiar creature." With those words, the oracle rose and stepped back. "I'm afraid I cannot help you, Your Majesty."
And with those eight words, Bran was right back to zero. 
Bran carried Maria's limp form in his arms, instantly noticing that her skin was hot to the touch, then he rose and in sure strides, walked towards the door. "I'll have your payment arranged. My man would see to it."
Just as he was about to leave the room, the oracle stopped him. 
"What?" He didn't turn. 
"You might want to be careful with her. Don't do anything you'll regret later."
This time, Bran turned. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You're going to need her." The oracle said with a hint of finally in her words. She wasn't going to say more. Fucking crypt. 
Bran already knew that he needed her. She was his only hope of getting to his sister. For what other reason could he possibly need a sorceress? Bran wasn't sure that there was another, other than the fact that she knew where his sister was. 
He didn't need a fucking oracle to tell him that. 
He walked out without another word to the oracle, Maria cradled in his arms. He tried not to stare down at her as he walked back to her room—and failed.
How could she curl into him even when she wasn't conscious like that? 
He was her enemy and she was his. He loathed her existence as much as she hated him, he was sure. How then could she snuggle into his body as if she trusted him? Almost as if she was sure that he couldn't hurt her?