Sixty-seven:
Gretel
Oberon and I were in the great hall. We had taken some of the wine from the cellar, and the two of us were drinking together. “How long do you think it will be before the i***t Siblings show up?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Oberon, “it depends on if the redheaded one is still in love with your Mother.”
“Clark?” I said.
Oberon nodded. “Arrogant prick.”
I laughed. “Creepy prick, more like. He was her adopted brother, and he still thought that he could seduce her. It was no wonder that my brother turned out to be Evil.”
“She turned him into an Omen,” he said, “she thought that I was going to possess him, see. That I would be reborn in his body. No idea where she got that from.”
