Oracle's Moon (Elder Races #4)(23)

Grace smiled. “Thank you, baby girl. I love you too.”

“You don’t have to make pancakes if you don’t want.” Chloe showed her other hand, which was empty. “See, I ate all my banana.”

“What a good girl you are.” Grace felt her eyes grow damp. She gathered Chloe up and hugged her. “You’re such a good girl.”

What if she rejected the Power and it did go away, just as all the family legends said it would? What if it found its way to her niece? Chloe was the only other surviving female of the Andreas family. Grace was already pretty sure Chloe was a potential.

If the Power did not pass to Chloe, was it possible for it to go dormant and wait? Grace couldn’t imagine having any children of her own—Chloe and Max were more responsibility than she had ever expected to take on—but sooner or later, they would grow up and possibly have children of their own. Could the Power move on to one of their children before that girl was ready for it?

She turned her face into Chloe’s soft floating hair. Like hell it would.

Woman up, Gracie. Take responsibility. Do your job.

You never have accepted this. You grew up hoping you would never have to be the Oracle, and you’ve been kicking against it from the moment you knew your big sister was dead. Like the accident, it just happened to you. If you can’t take this on for the people like Rune and Carling who might need the Oracle’s help, do it for the children. And make damn sure you live a good, long life while you’re at it, so Chloe can have the same kind of happy, carefree childhood you had.

Her arms tightened protectively on Chloe’s delicate body. “I am going to make you the best pancakes you ever had,” Grace said. “The very, very best. But first I need for you to be a big girl for a few minutes. Would you keep your brother busy so I can go talk to the man at the front door? You can show Max your doll.”

Chloe smiled. “Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Welcome.”

Chloe scampered to the table, grabbed up her doll and shoved it in Max’s face. Max had been fingering the top of his sticky head thoughtfully. He laughed and reached for the doll as Chloe danced it around on his high-chair tray.

Feeling twice as clumsy as usual, Grace grabbed hold of the counter and used it to haul herself to her feet, balancing all of her weight on her good leg. She hurried toward the front of the house. Tension and antagonism crackled in the air like thunder and lightning. Khalil stood in front of the screen door, arms crossed and expression stony. On the other side of the flimsy barrier an angry dragon towered in human form.

“I see we’re not getting along,” Grace said breathlessly as she came up beside Khalil. She put a hand on Khalil’s bicep and said telepathically, Thank you.

He threw her a disgusted glance.

Hilarity bubbled up. Oh, yes, that’s right, he didn’t like to be thanked. Well, that was his problem. She kept her hand on Khalil’s arm and turned to the Lord of the Wyr. “Good morning. What can I do for you? Can I help you quickly, or did you want to consult with the Oracle? I’m in the middle of feeding two children, so if you want a consultation, it will have to wait until after breakfast.”

The dragon’s hot gold gaze shifted from Khalil to her, and she felt the impact to her bones. “Interesting,” said Cuelebre. “How did you get a prince of the House Marid to answer your door like a servant?”

“Do not answer that,” Khalil said between his teeth. “It is none of his business.”

Grace had, in fact, been about to answer Cuelebre’s question. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she shut it with a snap.

According to the database article she had read, the House Marid was the most Powerful of the all the Houses of Djinn. So Khalil was a prince? The article hadn’t mentioned anything about royalty, just that the Houses used consensus in decision making. She filed the observation under “irrelevant at the moment but interesting enough to pursue at a later time.”

“Hungry kids,” she said to Cuelebre. “Ticktock.”

This was the second demesne ruler that she had been rude to in as many days. Clearly she was on a roll. She had just five more demesne rulers in the United States to go. Give her to the end of the month, and she would have plenty of time to piss off everybody. Probably the confessional booth she would soon call home should be in a foreign country where no one knew her name.

Underneath her fingertips, laughter danced through Khalil’s energy. She glanced up and was startled to discover his expression was as stony as ever.

Cuelebre said, “I do not consult with Oracles.”

Her attention returned to the dragon’s brutal, impenetrable face. She thought, I bet you don’t. You would not let yourself become that vulnerable to a stranger.

Cuelebre continued. “I came to find out what happened between you, Carling Severan and my First sentinel yesterday.”

“Funny how many people want to know about that,” Grace muttered. Even though Rune had made his resignation clear yesterday morning, apparently Cuelebre was still not acknowledging it.

Khalil said coldly, “You should have told me what you wanted when I asked why you were here, dragon. I could have told you the Oracle doesn’t remember anything from that consultation.”

Cuelebre’s gold gaze did not waver from hers. “Is this true?”