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My magic moves, he said. My magic bites. My magic soothes. My magic frights. You are young and not so bold. I am unflinching—five hundred years old.
“There once was a girl,” he murmured, “clever and good, who tarried in shadow in the depths of the wood. There also was a King—a shepherd by his crook, who reigned over magic and wrote the old book. The two were together, so the two were the same: “The girl, the King... and the monster they became.”
The Shepherd King had made seventy-eight Providence Cards in descending order. There were twelve Black Horses, held exclusively by the King’s elite guard—the Destriers. Eleven Golden Eggs. Ten Prophets. Nine White Eagles. Eight Maidens. Seven Chalices. Six Wells. Five Iron Gates. Four Scythes. Three Mirrors. Two Nightmares. And one Twin Alders.
My laughter was hollow. “Better distrustful than delusional.” There was redness in Ione’s cheeks—rarely displayed anger in her hazel eyes. “Having hope does not make me delusional, Elspeth,” she said.
in that case I have hope ill go to a sombr gig and he'll fall in love with me
Ione, colored by the brilliant pink of a Maiden Card, stared down at me. My aunt picked herself out of the hedge, brushing her skirt off. “Heavens, Elspeth.” She pulled me to my feet and began to pick leaves out of my hair, but I waved her off. All I could think about was the bright pink Card in my cousin’s pocket.
The Black Horse made its beholder a master of combat. The Golden Egg granted great wealth. The Prophet offered glimpses of the future. The White Eagle bestowed courage. The Maiden bequeathed great beauty. The Chalice turned liquid into truth serum. The Well gave clear sight to recognize one’s enemies. The Iron Gate offered blissful serenity, no matter the struggle. The Scythe gave its beholder the power to control others. The Mirror granted invisibility. The Nightmare allowed its user to speak into the minds of others. The Twin Alders had the power to commune with Blunder’s ancient entity, the
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“What about you, Captain? Are you too nice for your own good?” He watched me, something I could not read flashing in his gray eyes. “No, Miss Spindle,” he said. “I’m not nice at all.” The
Help me help me help me HELP! I cried, shutting my eyes, the vicious sound of the singing blade buzzing through my body. Salt filled my nose. I felt as if I’d fallen beneath a sheet of ice. I gasped, desperate for air I could not taste. Pain ripped up my arms—the dark magic of the infection and the Nightmare’s strength swimming through my veins. When I opened my eyes, the world was bright and vivid behind the Nightmare’s gaze. My father stood before me, fearsome, a small touch of surprise etched into his dark scowl... ... and his dagger tightly fisted in my hand.
HUH
He was the hunter, and I the prey.
AND WE RUN BAAAAABBY I KNOW PLACES WE CAN HIIIIIIDE I KNOW PLACESSSS
“He didn’t recognize me.” “You’re sure? Because if he did, we’re royally f—”
“You never said how you got away from him.” I stiffened, the Nightmare’s wicked laugh resonating in the din. When I spoke, the low notes of my voice were slick, as if dipped in oil. “Perhaps it was he who got away from me.”
“You frightened me earlier.” “What do you mean?” “The way you came running out of the trees... I didn’t think it was you.” Ravyn paused, watching me. “It’s hard to explain.”
The corners of his lips curled. “It’s just that, sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I know you—understand you. And other times...” His brow furrowed. “Your eyes flash a strange yellow color. I feel a stillness about you I do not recognize. A darkness.”
“Of all the things I pretend at,” he said, his thumb drawing small, gentle circles along my waist, “courting you has proven the easiest.”
“Ravyn,” he said, his eyes tracing my face, flashing a moment to my mouth. “If we’re going to be convincing, you should call me Ravyn.” A smile tugged at my lips. “Good night, then, Ravyn.” He responded with a slow, satisfied grin. “I’ll take that as your answer, Elspeth.”
A creature—neither man nor animal, fur bristled along his tall, pointed ears—stared back at me, his yellow eyes wide. But when I looked again, he was gone. The face in the mirror was mine once more. Only now, my features were contorted in fear, and my dark eyes—wide with terror—had gone glassy. My aunt had told me once that my strange charcoal eyes were special, beautiful even—a dark window to the soul beneath. But as I glanced back into the looking glass, the reflection of my black eyes flickering to that bright, eerie yellow, I had to wonder... whose soul was it? The Nightmare’s? Or mine?
His smile widened. But before he could reply, the parlor door at the bottom of the stairs opened. Out came Morette Yew and, behind her, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. When she saw me, her lips parted. “There you are, cousin,” Ione called, her hazel eyes darting between Ravyn and me. “Finally awake.”
Urgh go AWAY
My cousin pressed a finger into her bottom lip. “Speaking of powerful men, Hauth was furious when the highwaymen got away last night.” A smile I was unfamiliar with crossed her lips. Almost wicked. “He was injured quite grotesquely by the cut-purses, you know.” My eyes shot to the High Prince. “How terrible.”
She knows smth
Ione peered over my shoulder, drawn by the tension between the Captain of the Destriers and her future husband. When her gaze landed on Hauth, I thought I caught a glimpse of something in her narrowed hazel eyes—something more than coldness. Something that looked a great deal like hatred.
He had felt my wrist—heard the cry of my voice. Strange, that he did not tell them it was a woman who had attacked him.
Ravyn and Elm stared at Hauth’s injury. “Get a look at who did it?” Elm said. “I caught him in the wood,” Hauth said. “The rest were gone, but he was lost, stupid bastard.” He puffed his chest. “I broke his wrist.”
Ione covered her mouth, but not before I caught the edge of a smile dancing along her lips. Elm noticed, too, and his own smiled widened.
“Remember,” Ravyn called to the Destriers, “a highwayman does not bear the law in mind. He—or she—may even carry the infection. You cannot be too careful.” He eyed me briefly over his cousin’s shoulder.
The fact hes like dropping hints and they still dont know
“Couldn’t tell, could I?” Hauth said, blocking Ravyn’s slap. “He wore a mask.” “Anonymity,” Ravyn called to the Destriers, landing hits along Hauth’s ear. “Anonymity is the highwayman’s greatest advantage. Tear it away, and you’ve already killed him.” “Or her,” Ione whispered, her voice so quiet I might have imagined it.
Ione knows istg
The Prince shrugged, his green eyes lingering on Ione’s shape in the distance. “Hauth broke your wrist, Ravyn mangled his hand. Balance.”
Arghhhh he avenged her
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.
Hauth’s expression shifted from bravado to surprise, his green eyes wide, lowering to my sleeve. “Something wrong with your arm, Miss Spindle?” Next to me, Ravyn froze. But before he could speak, someone shifted in my periphery, a flurry of gold, long yellow hair catching the light. Ione. “Careful, darling,” she said, stepping between me and Hauth, forcing him to drop my arm. Her voice was pitched higher than normal—sickly sweet. “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.
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Bloodcurdling screams brought me back. Stop! I cried, but it was too late. Linden lay on the ground, his hands held up to his neck, blood oozing through his fingers.
steal a Providence Card is a wicked crime. No one is invulnerable to the King’s inquest. No one is immune to the Chalice—the truth will always out. Those who bear guilt will pay in blood. To steal a Providence Card is a wicked crime.
Ummm
His facial hair
Thank you for the offer but no he does not have a beard
I slipped into the hallway and shut it behind me, releasing a triumphant exhale. “An enjoyable evening, I hope.” I whirled, my heart in my throat. Jespyr stood a few doors down, already dressed for the day in Destrier black. Despite the dim light, the corridor torches not yet lit, there was no mistaking the wide, devious smile plastered across her face.
Ooop
Thistle entered the room with a fresh loaf of bread. Behind him, back in his Destrier clothes, came Ravyn. Heat rose up my collar. Suddenly, I was very preoccupied with my plate. “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 mean?” “You’re smiling.” Elm loo...
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A small, pointed cough echoed nearby. Emory peered at us through the willow’s branches, his lips curled in a mischievous grin. “Found them,” he called to Elm. “They were kissing.” I blushed down to my roots, hiding my face in Ravyn’s cloak. He smiled sheepishly, taking my hand and leading us back into the garden. Elm and Emory waited for us down the path, their arms crossed over their chests.
“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.”
This time, I would walk the halls of Spindle House with purpose and intent. This time, I would not cower beneath my stepmother’s gaze. This time, I would steal my father’s Well Card.
Yes queen
“What about the sixth landing?” Jespyr said, her eyes raised once more to the tall, spiraling stairs. I shook my head. “My father doesn’t go up there anymore.” “How do you know?” “Because that’s where my room is.”
Well thats probobly where he hid it
Something was wrong. I gripped the table. “What’s going on?” “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. I went cold. That’s when I realized that there were five of us seated at the table. Five of us. And six goblets.
Wa
But it was written all over the High Prince’s face, a smug, triumphant smile sewn across his lips as he slid the Chalice Card onto the table for us to see. “Only a few moments now,” he said, his eyes turning to Ravyn. “Who wants to tell the truth first?”
Oh no oh ffs please mabe it wont work
“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.
Basil just came running into my room bc i screamed so loudly
“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.
WHAT WBAT DO U MEAN
