“What did she say?” my father asks sharply, and I know I will never get used to this new, cold tone. “F-five?” What am I even saying? But I know I heard her right because her prophecy is seared into my eardrums. Seared into my soul. “She said I have five black hearts calling for me.” His eyes flash dangerously, and I know the oracle is in trouble now. My father abruptly turns on his heel and storms into her office. “I want their names!” he roars. “All of them!” Her reply is calm and cool. “I cannot give them to you, Your Majesty.”
