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“How on earth did you discover this hiding place?” He shrugged. “Playing as a boy. I’d cut my shoulder on the window and stumbled in, blood on my hand. When I touched the stone… well, you saw.”
“I don’t know. It’s old—as old as the ruins outside.” He reached into his pocket, retrieving the burgundy and purple lights—the Nightmare, the Mirror. “I found these inside the center of the stone.”
An offering, bartered with blood. That’s how the Spirit bargains—always with blood. So the Shepherd King built her this chamber at the edge of the woods, this altar. And here, they bartered. How do you know so much about it?
girl.. how do you think?? He is the shepherd king!
“Why can you use only these two?”
“But like his pet Orithe, the King saw value in my infection. Without the Black Horse, I became a better fighter than the other Destriers. The Chalice did not work for me—but neither did it work against me. No one could see me in the Well Card. The Scythe cannot control me.” He paused. “That is why he made me Captain.”
“Every year, I lose the ability to use another Card. Only the Mirror, Nightmare, and, I assume, the Twin Alders remain.”
“Is this you pretending, Elspeth?” he said, the tip of his nose grazing mine. “Because if it is…” His breath stirred my eyelashes. “You’re very good at it.”
Ravyn’s throat hitched, his eyelids lowering. He placed my hand firmly on his chest, across the Yew insignia, just above his heart. His chest thumped—his heartbeat ragged, as if he’d just been running. When I looked up, he was watching me, his eyes softer than before. “Does this feel pretend?” he said, his mouth close now, so close his lips tugged at mine.
kicking my feet lol
Ravyn growled into my mouth and I pressed my entire self into him, wanting—needing—to feel him against my body.
He drew me out of my Nightmare-infested mind into myself.
just like he nullifies the Providence cards
Had I kept my eyes shut, I might have surrendered entirely to Ravyn’s touch. But I opened them a sliver, and when I did, something over Ravyn’s shoulder caught my gaze. A shadow shifting across the dark chamber.
“Elspeth Spindle,” he said, his eyes—so strange and yellow—ensnaring me. “Let me out.”
Enough, Nightmare! Tell me the truth. Who is that man? Why do I keep seeing him? He is a vestige of the past, haunting the chamber he built for the Spirit of the Wood, nothing more than a memory of a man who once was. His voice grew harder. A man I once was.
see?!
But it felt incomplete, my collection yet whole. And so, for the Nightmare, I bartered my soul. I put a hand to my mouth, fingers shaking. My voice came out hollow. “But that would mean I absorbed your soul when I touched the Nightmare Card. Which makes you… the Shepherd King.” A growl, a sneer—oil, bile. His voice called, louder than it had ever been, as if he was closer. Stronger. Finally, my darling Elspeth, we understand one another.
Practice restraint, and know it by touch. Use Cards when they’re needed, and never too much. For too much of fire, our swords would all break. Too much of wine a poison doth make. Excess is grievous, be knave, maid, or crown. Too much of water, how easy we drown.
You’re becoming stronger, I whispered, my voice hardly audible in the dark din. That’s why I’m seeing your memories. I may not be getting weaker like Emory, but I’m… fading. A lump rose in my throat. That’s my degeneration, isn’t it?
I’m not TAKING anything, Elspeth Spindle. He hissed, claws flashing, suddenly vicious. I cannot TAKE. I am capable only of what I am willfully given. He slinked into the darkness, hasty to be away from me. Remember that, when you finally have the courage to admit it. In the end, I took nothing you had not already given me.
“I wonder,” he said, shooting Ravyn a pointed look over his shoulder, “what it is you see in my cousin.” I could tell by the sly tones of Hauth’s voice that I held little interest for him—I was merely a toy to steal from his cousin. Still, my gaze turned to the Captain of the Destriers.
Something else drew me to the Captain of the Destriers. Something I had, caught up in our game of pretend, overlooked. Something ancient—born of salt. We were the same, he and I. Gifted with ancient, terrible magic. Woven in secret, hidden in half-truths. We were the darkness in Blunder, the reminder that magic—wild and unfettered—prevailed, no matter how desperately the Rowans tried to stamp it out. We were the thing to be feared. We were the balance.
“Elspeth and I went riding yesterday morning. She fell off a horse, poor dear.” Her hazel eyes turned to me, narrow, keen—opposite of the sweetness in her voice. “Isn’t that right, Bess?”
I hate that Ione is evil now
“My brother’s not half as clever as he thinks he is,” he said. “By the trees, Spindle, wipe all that apprehension off your face.” But I wasn’t convinced. There was something about Hauth Rowan that deeply unnerved me. Just like in the wood, I could not shake the feeling he was hunting me. With every look—every touch—he was seeking me out for the kill.
I leaned into him. “I want to help.” His fingers found my jaw, his thumb pressing just above my chin. “You are helping, Elspeth. More than you know.”
Behind my eyes, the Nightmare’s voice was coy. You’re running out of time, dear one, he said, slithering past my ears. Tell him how you feel. If you don’t say it aloud, can it ever be real?
“I resisted, Elspeth, because I was already imagining how I might press my finger against your wet lips again, like I had in my room.” He took in a breath, his mouth dropping to my ear. “And that was nothing to the wicked things I was imagining after we argued in the garden.”
“I resisted,” Ravyn said, “because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that first night on the forest road. And I realized at Equinox that the closer I let myself get to you, the less I’d want to be the King’s Captain—the less I’d want to pretend. And it’s dangerous for me, for my family, to stop pretending.”
I’m a liar, Elspeth. A traitor. And someday, there will be a reckoning.” He pulled back, his gray eyes tight with strain. “The highwayman meets the hangman. Always.”
I had not fit into anyone’s arms like that since childhood. And even then, no one had ever held me so tightly—as if they needed me in their arms as much as I needed to be held. As if nothing else mattered but to hold one another.
What’s yours is mine when the shadows draw near. You asked for my help—and now I am here. With your eyes I do see, with your ears I do hear. There’s no going back—this is payment, my dear.
“You’ve saved infected children before?” “That’s the entire point of collecting the Deck,” Elm muttered behind me. “Or did you imagine we were committing treason for a laugh?”
Emory held my gaze. “You’re very beautiful,” he mused. “Your eyes are so dark—so infinite.” He paused. “Like a maiden in a storybook. As if the Shepherd King had penned you himself.” The Nightmare laughed, sending a shiver clawing up my spine. Death at his door, and the boy still understands you better than the rest of these fools.
in Blunder.” He looked up at me, a glimmer in his gray eyes. “The trees are. If the Shepherd King did live here, he would have taken the name of the trees, the way everyone did. And what kind of trees are planted all along the estate, even near the ruins?” His smile widened. “Yews.”
“The garden,” Emory said, his fingers shaking along the spoon as he took small sips from the steaming bowl. “I want to see the trees in the garden.” His voice faltered. “Then you can take me back.”
“I wanted us all to go to Market Day so that if the Ivys stole the Well Card from Spindle House this morning, we would all be accounted for.”
“I trust you. You’re safe with me. Magic—or something else—is pulling us together. Only two more Cards,” he said, the tips of our noses grazing. “And then you’ll be free.”
He leaned over me and smiled, like he knew exactly how thoroughly he’d shattered me.
“An enjoyable evening, I hope.” I whirled, my heart in my throat. Jespyr stood a few doors down,
lol
Elm’s face twisted in a grimace. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Ravyn took a bite of bread and leaned back in his chair. “What do you mean?” “You’re smiling.” Elm looked over the table. “Does no one else find that incredibly unnerving?”
It’s not just a magical stone that hides Providence Cards, I realized, terror thick as mud as it crept across my heart. The chamber was at the edge of the cemetery. And the stone… the stone was a marker. A gravestone.
We were not the same, my half sisters and I. Life had sheltered them, like pearls kept in a velvet pouch. And I—I was not made of pearls. I was made of salt.
I saw myself in his cautious eyes and in the darkness that swam in my veins, and though I had not realized it until that very moment, there was magic between us that had nothing to do with blood or Providence Cards or anything in between.
Something shifted in my periphery, accompanied by the swell of a soft, birdlike voice. “Come now, Bess,” it called. “You give me so little credit.”
It's a trap...
Ione steered us past them to an empty table along the east wall. There, waiting on a silver tray, were six goblets of wine.
the chalice... I bet
“Look at her eyes,” Elm murmured. “Someone’s used a Scythe on her.” He reached into his pocket, his eyes never leaving Ione’s face. He tapped his Scythe three times, his voice gentle. “Tell me what you’ve done, Hawthorn.” She blinked. When she spoke, her voice sounded strangled. “Only what he bade me,” she said.
That’s when I realized that there were five of us seated at the table. Five of us. And six goblets. I turned to Ravyn. But the Captain of the Destriers had gone still, his hand so tight in mine it felt like a vise. Then, mouth twisted in a cruel smile, cloaked in Scythe red and the turquoise light of a Chalice Card, Hauth Rowan took his seat at the end of the table.
yep. a trap
The Nightmare understood before I did. His anger burned through me, filling my thoughts with smoke. I called out for him. What’s happening? The wine sat on my tongue, bitter, sour, unlike any drink I’d had before. The turquoise light in his pocket. The Chalice.
called it!
“It doesn’t matter now,” she said, pressing a finger to her lips. “Now we are both sheep, nestled pleasantly in a wolf den. Or is it the other way around?” The Nightmare’s lips stretched over his jagged teeth. I like this Ione.
“Are you still pretending?” I said, reveling in his gaze. Ravyn gave a surprised laugh and, in front of everyone, leaned in and kissed me. “I never was,” he whispered into my lips.
Let me help you. “Don’t, Ravyn—” I gasped. But it was too late. He had already broken his promise. The intrusion into my mind felt like someone had splashed me with icy water. I felt it in my ears—my eyes—my nostrils, into the roof of my mouth. I coughed, gasping for air. It’s all right, Elspeth, Ravyn’s voice echoed in my head. You can do this—choose your words carefully. He asked you what happened—not how it happened. But I hardly heard him. I was too busy shouting, my fingers digging into the Captain of the Destriers’ palm. No, no, no! I told you, no, Ravyn! Breathe, Elspeth, he said, his
...more
No one but me saw Ione reach for the discarded Chalice on the table and, with the delicate tip of her finger, tap it, freeing me. We shared a glance. I opened my mouth to say something, but she was already out of her chair, slipping away through the great hall.
Are you going to let him suffer like this? the Nightmare whispered. I shut my eyes tighter. What will he think of me? Does it matter? Of course it matters. He matters. So don’t lie to him.
so he does have a heart
