Wicked Hunt

Chapter Four, Part II

Victoria: Wasted Prophecies 

"So, the world ends with you standing above a mountain of bodies, holding some magical sword?" Lorik Bainbridge asked unimpressed. He was lounging on a chaise near the large front windows of the library. Victoria slammed the book she had been skimming shut loudly.

"Shhh, you idiot," she retorted. "I'm not supposed to share-"

"Secrets of the big bad witches. Ooohhh," Lorik remarked mockingly as he wiggled his fingers. He rolled his teal eyes at her and laid his head back. He stared up at the ceiling. "You can't expect to believe in that shit."

"Don't interrupt me," Victoria hissed, flinging the large tome at him so that it slid through the air with ease and landed heavily in the pit of his stomach. He folded in half, doubling over and dropping the book on the floor. It rattled loose several pages that fluttered beside it.

"I think..." Lorik huffed, "you've quite made your point." He bent to pick up the tome and the scattered pages. Shrugging, he shoved them into the front of the book.

Victoria went back to scanning the shelves. She placed a pale finger on her lips and tapped them absently. None of these books had anything about a mystical sword in their pages. Many spoke of the wolf that guarded the forest, but that had not even been in her dream at all.

"Strange," she murmured out loud. "Why show me a girl and a sword but no wolf?" The wolf was always in the prophecies, the savior that was supposed to guard the realm against the darkness of the Black Stag. Never had a girl ever been mentioned.

"What was that?" Lorik moved behind her, sliding the book back into its place.

"What if," Victoria spun around to face him, "you saw something that made you question everything you ever knew?"

"It's too early for such deep thoughts." He flung his arm over his forehead dramatically. "And I am entirely not sober enough for this conversation."

"Tell me you didn't go out to the taverns again last night?" Victoria snapped. "You're supposed to be my adviser. You studied about warfare and politics at the university in Valwater City, didn't you?"

Lorik rolled his eyes. "I was at the university," he remarked with a sheepish smirk. "I never said I studied anything there."

Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just because you're a son of one of my mother's friends doesn't mean I can't ship your ass all the way back to Rodantha, Lorik. What am I going to do with you?"

He wiggled his sculpted brows. "I can think of a few things."

She hated when he insinuated things. It always made her uncomfortable. Not that Victoria was a prude, she'd had her fair share of lovers, but Lorik was her friend, and she didn't want to do anything to lose that relationship.

Ignoring the warmth creeping into her cheeks, Victoria glared at him. "Pig."

"Harlot," he shot back.

"Ass."

"Snob."

"Bastard.

"Witch."

"Drunk."

"Don't judge me," Lorik said with a fake pout. The corners of his lips were already twitching upward.

Victoria shrugged. "Too late."

"Oh well," a grin touched his lips. "There are worse things than not having your approval."