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November 8 - November 11, 2025
Elm looked down at him, lips curling, a drop of blood slipping from his nostrils. The Scythe was taking its toll on him. The Nightmare laughed, pitiless. Be wary the red, be wary the blade. Be wary the pain, for a price will be paid. Command what you can, death waits for no man. Be wary the pain, for a price will be paid.
I let out a breath, and Ravyn reached for me. But no sooner had his fingers touched mine than the Captain recoiled, his gaze frozen on my hands. When I looked down, my hands were curled like claws. My fingers, long and pale, were covered in blood.
Ravyn waited. “What of the yellow that flickers through your eyes?” he asked. “I can’t tell you,” I said, more forceful than before. “You won’t want anything to do with me if I do.” Ravyn exhaled. “Then your estimation of me is lower than I imagined.”
Ravyn sneered. “Your Prince is just that—a Prince. And you are not his brutes. You do not disrupt Blunder’s peace, nor force its citizens to witness cruelty. You are as shadows—silent and swift. Most essentially, you are keepers of our words. Wary. Clever. Good. Is that understood?”
Elm waved a hand in my face. “I didn’t say it was a bad idea, only that it wasn’t the right moment.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction of having a semi-intelligent idea, Spindle.”
Ravyn looked on unapologetically. “I told only those who were imperative to the task.” “So everyone except me and the magically disturbed woman?” “Disturbed?” the Nightmare and I called at once.
Ravyn’s eyes did not leave my face. But I could not read them. And it hurt, somewhere between my lungs and my sternum, knowing he was guarded around me once more.
He pulled back, pupils wide, mouth swollen. “Is this—Do you want me to stop?” “No,” I said claiming his mouth again. Wine and firelight and the desperate need to escape my own fate blended in a heady draft. It struck a fire in me I had never tended, wild, unfettered. I wanted it to burn me to pieces—for him to burn me to pieces.
Messy, warm—a gentle chaos. The kind of chaos that lived in stark contrast to the stony, controlled Captain of the Destriers. And he was showing it to me.
He looked me in the eye, kissed me hard, and yanked me to the cusp of the bed. “Can I kiss you?” My voice shook. “A bit late to ask, isn’t it?” “Not on your mouth, Elspeth.” His eyes turned wicked as he lowered himself to his knees, kissing the inside of my leg, the tips of his teeth edging over my skin. With a sharp breath he pushed my thighs open, wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. “Here.”
I pressed my head to his chest, lost to the sound of his heartbeat against my ear. It stretched on and on, an eternal beat, a false promise. As if all my woes would disappear if I remained there, naked, next to him. As if I had all the time in the world.
She looked me up and down, her eyes landing on the mess of my hair. “You look… well rested.” “Thank you,” I said, slipping past her. I stopped at my door. “You—you didn’t hear anything, did you?” She pressed her lips together. “Like what?” “Nothing. Never mind. See you at breakfast.” I pushed into my room, the low rumble of her laugh following me.
Elm joined us next, his auburn hair catastrophic, flailing every direction like he’d slept in a windstorm.
“Smells amazing,” Ravyn said, patting Thistle’s back. He came up behind his parents and Emory, stealing a slice of bread off his father’s plate. He passed Elm, mussing his cousin’s wild hair before taking a seat. Everyone was watching him, brows high. When I looked up, Ravyn’s gaze was on me, his mouth upturned, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. “Morning.” He looked stupidly handsome, smug to his boots. I hid behind my teacup. “Morning.” Next to him, 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
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“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing my damp hair out of my face. “You were gone when I woke up.” I leaned into him. “I wanted to let you rest.” He kissed me, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck. “I don’t want rest, Elspeth,” he murmured into my lips. “I want you.”
“What a shame,” Emory sighed, his eyes tracing me. “Here I was, thinking she’d come to kiss me. That’s how the fairy tale goes, isn’t it? Beautiful maiden saves sick boy with a kiss—boy miraculously heals and delivers the kingdom from dark magic.” “Almost,” Elm said, his green eyes flickering to me. “Except, in this fairy tale, the maiden has blood on her hands.”
Tears of fury filled my eyes. If I had died, so, too, would you have, Nightmare. Don’t for a second pretend you did all this because you care for me. The Shepherd King is dead, I said once more. And you—you are a monster. That I am, he replied.
Yellow girl, beauty keen. Yellow girl, noticed—seen. Yellow girl, heart of stone. Yellow girl, cruel Queen.
Elm’s hand lowered to his pocket, bathed in red light. “What, no bow for her?” Balian hesitated. He looked at me, the lines in his face knit. Suddenly his eyes went bleary and he gave a low, stooping bow. A moment later he snapped upright, his eyes clearer, wider. He shot Elm a frightened glance and then hurried through the hallway before disappearing down the stairs.
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.
THE CHALICE Be wary the sea, Be wary the cup. Be wary the food and the wine that you sup. Your stomach may sour— Your tongue may twist dour. Be wary the food and the wine that you sup.
Her laugh rumbled in her chest, her perfect face smooth, her cheeks rosy pink. “You’re just like Mother, Elspeth. Head in the clouds. You don’t see how hard it is for a woman to be powerful—to be fearless—in Blunder, because you never cared about being more than exactly what you are. But I do.” She folded her hands in front of her, her hazel eyes firm. “And if it takes a cold heart to be fearless, then so be it.”
It was Elm’s turn. “Trees, Ravyn, I don’t know.” He ran his hand over his brow. “Do you think I’m better looking than you?” The corner of Ravyn’s lip twitched. “Decidedly.”
“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.
Next to me, Ravyn stirred. “Elspeth.” He squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to—” “Yes,” I said, the word slipping out of me without resistance, so effortless it could be mistaken as nothing other than the truth. I tried to pull my hand from Ravyn’s, but he wouldn’t let me, his thumb scraping over my knuckles. Still, I did not look at him. I cast Ione a bitter glance, her question a violation, ripping something from me I was not yet ready to say.
THE NIGHTMARE Be wary the dark, Be wary the fright. Be wary the voice that comes in the night. It twists and it calls, Through shadowy halls. Be wary the voice that comes in the night.
Most of all, I wondered—my stomach dropping—if after last night, Ravyn Yew had irrevocably changed his mind about me.
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.
Who are you? Ravyn demanded, shouting into the blackness. The Nightmare was untouched by his distress. The shepherd of the shadow. The phantom of the fright. The demon in the daydream. The nightmare in the night.
“Be safe,” I whispered to the wind as Ravyn Yew disappeared beyond the gate. Had I known they’d be the last words I’d say to him aloud, I might have chosen them differently.
My aunt was not there. But Hauth Rowan, hidden in the shadow of the wardrobe, was. The Nightmare hissed viciously, his claws slashing in the darkness. Run. But it was too late. My uncle had already stepped behind me, forcing me into the room.
“You’re infected, aren’t you, Miss Spindle?” Life drained out of me, replaced by a forge of seething hatred. Hauth continued. “Why else would Ravyn protect you so ardently?” He smiled, cruel. “Your uncle confirmed it.” It felt as if he’d choked me. When I tried to speak, my voice was uneven. “My uncle—he told you?” Hauth nodded, touched by a cold, heartless humor.
whispered a goodbye no one would hear and closed my eyes, shutting out the spindle tree and my childhood room until there was nothing but shadow. Shadow, and the Shepherd King.
I’m asking for your help, I said, my voice clear. I understand the price.
They called me a King’s name once, I said, my tail flickering. But that was a long time ago. “What shall I call you, then?” Nothing, child, I said, crawling back into the blackness. I’m just the wind in the trees, the shadow, and the fright. The echo in the leaves… the nightmare in the night.
We smiled, and when we stood, the world around us faded, time and space, Prince and King, child and spirit. All that remained was magic—black as ink. Powerful, vengeful, and full of fury.
“They came in the night,” we said, “the black and red horde. They burned down my castle, put my kin to the sword. The usurper was crowned, though my blood had not dried. But he did not account for the turn of the tide. For nothing is safe, and nothing is free. Debt follows all men, no matter their plea. When the Shepherd returns, a new day shall ring. Death to the Rowans… “Long live the King.”
She looked so peaceful, so still, so much like the woman he’d held in his arms… But she wasn’t. She was something else now. And it hurt more than he’d ever imagined it could to think she might be gone forever.
“The Twin Alders is hidden in a place with no time. A place of great sorrow and bloodshed and crime. Betwixt ancient trees, where the mist cuts bone-deep, the last Card remains, waiting, asleep. The wood knows no road—no path through the snare. Only I can find the Twin Alders… “For it was I who left it there.”
