: Part 1 – Chapter 8
For the Black Horse Card, for power and speed,
The Spirit wanted blood from my warhorse, my steed.
For the Golden Egg Card, abundance and wealth,
I bartered two years of my life’s precious health.
The Prophet came next, the Card of foresight.
She wanted my fear, so I gave her my fright.
When I asked her for courage, the White Eagle Card,
I bartered my skin, which left my hands scarred.
So I begged for the Maiden, for beauty I prayed.
She asked for my hair, shorn off with a blade.
I put a hand into my pocket, tracing my charm. Filick, Elm, and Jespyr filed out of the cellar one by one. Ravyn followed them out of the room, exchanging words I could not make out.
Perhaps they were going to let him kill me after all.
The Nightmare stirred behind my eyes, watching the door.
Without windows, I had no idea what time it was. I slouched deeper into my chair, tired. Moments later, Ravyn stepped back inside. Only now, his pocket was bursting with light.
I sat up, my back stiffening and my eyes wide. There were Providence Cards in his pocket. The Nightmare had been right—he was going to test me.
Ravyn took a seat beside me at the table, his face a mask of austerity. His hand went so quickly into his pocket I didn’t see it move. He slapped a White Eagle Card onto the table. I rubbed my eyes, more tired than I thought, because, for a split second, it seemed as if the light coming from the Cards in Ravyn’s pocket had flickered out.
The White Eagle depicted a bird soaring above a wheat field, its eyes orange and its black talons sharp. Courage, it read on one side. On the other, the image inverted, it read Fear.
I stared at the Card, then back at Ravyn. “What’s this for?”
“What do you see?” he asked. “What color?”
I crossed my arms. “Didn’t I prove I could see the Scythe in your cousin’s pocket a moment ago?”
“Many people are aware Elm carries his Scythe with him,” Ravyn countered. “A lucky guess, perhaps.”
“I wouldn’t consider anything that’s happened today lucky, Captain.”
There it was again—the quirk at the corner of Ravyn’s lips—that sliver of a smile. He cleared his throat and repeated, “What color?”
“White.”
He reached into his other pocket, withdrawing a black silk cloth. “Tell me, Miss Spindle, can you see the colors with your eyes shut?”
My heartbeat quickened. “Yes.”
“Good.” He wrapped the cloth around his knuckles. “Would you object to a blindfold?”
I paused. Ravyn waited, his face unreadable as he watched me. When I nodded he stood, silk in hand. I tapped my fingernails on the table, my eyelids fluttering to a close.
Despite the way his rough fingers snagged the fabric, Ravyn’s touch was soft. He tucked loose strands of my hair behind my ears. Then he wrapped the blindfold twice over my eyes before tying it in a true knot at the back of my head.
I saw nothing, the fabric smooth and opaque. I blinked against it and inhaled, knowing there was no blindfold in the world strong enough to mask the color of Providence Cards from the Nightmare behind my eyes.
I heard Ravyn move back to his seat. “Shall I continue?” he asked.
It wasn’t my tiredness—the vibrant colors in his pocket flickered again. It wasn’t until Ravyn snapped the next Card onto the table that I understood its color.
Black.
Even in the darkness of my blindfold, the black was distinct. Black like my eyes—black like magic. “The Black Horse.”
Written like a fragmented tale of horror, The Old Book of Alders chronicled the Deck of Twelve Providence Cards, the magic they possessed, how to use them, and the consequences of overusing them.
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 Spirit of the Wood.
But, just as there were two edges to every blade, there were two sides to every Providence Card. Magic came at a cost. If used too long, the Black Horse could make its holder weak. The Golden Egg led to all-consuming greed. The White Eagle’s courage was replaced by fear. The Prophet’s foresight made its user helpless to change the future. The Chalice’s truth serum turned into poison. The Maiden’s beauty chilled its user’s heart. The Well’s holder would be betrayed by a friend. The Iron Gate stole years from one’s life. The Scythe caused great physical pain. The Mirror lifted the veil between worlds, exposing a world of ghosts. The Nightmare revealed one’s deepest fears.
And the Twin Alders… No one knew what happened if you used the Twin Alders too long. There was no record of anyone having done so.
A moment later, the darkness of the Black Horse was gone, another Card hitting the table.
Pink. Piercing rose-blossom pink.
I squirmed in my chair. “The Maiden,” I said. “I’ve seen a few of these floating around this Equinox.”
“Have you?”
I exhaled. “Unfortunately.”
“You sound disapproving.”
A twinge of pain hit my stomach, Ione’s face sharp in my mind. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
The Captain’s laugh rumbled in his chest. The pink hue of the Maiden disappeared, replaced by a smooth turquoise—the color of the sea. “The Chalice.”
He drew another. A sharp, misty gray light floated about the room.
“The Prophet,” I said.
The Prophet’s gray light flickered a moment. “Tell me, Miss Spindle, do you keep any Cards yourself?”
I gnawed at my bottom lip. “No.”
“But you live with your uncle. Surely he possesses Cards.”
I shifted in my seat. “You seemed to think so when you ambushed me on the road.”
I couldn’t tell if Ravyn Yew felt remorse. There was a practiced calmness about him, his tone never straying far beyond moderate interest. Still, he was quick to change the subject. “How many people are aware of your infection?” he asked.
I bit my tongue and pulled the blindfold up over my eyes. Ravyn sat in his chair, watching me. I searched for hostility in his expression but found nothing beyond cautious curiosity.
“How do I know you won’t arrest them for harboring me?” I asked.
“You don’t, I suppose,” he said. “But, as you see, I haven’t even arrested you, a maiden strongly infected with magic.” To my silence, he tilted his head, birdlike. “I’m merely trying to understand the extent of your situation.”
I ground my molars together. “Why? Why haven’t you arrested me?”
“Because you haven’t done anything wrong.” He paused. “And because your ability is extremely useful.”
“Haven’t done anything wrong?” I raised my brows. “I’ve broken the law—grievously.”
But Ravyn merely shook his head. “Not everyone sees it that way.”
“Your uncle does, and that’s all that matters.”
The Captain of the Destriers watched me, his gray eyes momentarily lowering to my mouth. “I’d like to continue, Miss Spindle.” He gestured to the blindfold resting on my forehead. “If you don’t mind.”
I pulled the fabric back over my eyes with a lofty sigh. Gold light filled the room. “The Golden Egg.” When the sound of the next Card hit wood, I blinked against the darkness of the blindfold, waiting. “Go on, then,” I said.
“I’ve already placed the Card on the table,” Ravyn replied smoothly.
“You see no color?”
The Nightmare stirred, his whisper tickling my ear. There is no Card. He’s playing a trick.
“There is no color,” I said. “There can’t be a Card.”
“I assure you there is.”
I ripped the blindfold from my face, a small gasp escaping my lips as I stared at the image of ancient trees bound together by forest-green velvet. The Twin Alders Card.
The Nightmare and I realized the truth at the same moment. A laugh rippled in my throat. “There’s no magic,” I said. “Just paper and velvet. It’s a fake.”
Ravyn smiled, a shadow shifting along his striking nose. “Are you sure?”
“Positive, Captain.”
When he pocketed the false Card, the others flickered and jostled. I caught a glance of the familiar burgundy light in the cluster of colors and narrowed my gaze. “There’s a lot of talk about the two Nightmare Cards,” I said, my tone sharp. “But no one seems to know that the King already has one. Or that his Captain uses it so freely.”
Ravyn said nothing. When the silence between us grew too tense, I tapped my fingernails on the table. “So? Do I pass your test?”
The Captain leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes never leaving my face. “It certainly appears you can see Providence Cards. And that you’ve managed to hide your infection from Physicians and Destriers alike, despite being the daughter of one.” He tilted his head again. “Who else knows about your ability to see the Cards?”
I tensed. “No one.”
Ravyn raised his brows. “Another lie, Miss Spindle?”
“No!” I leaned forward, searching his face. “I swear it. My family merely thinks I caught the fever.”
Ravyn said nothing, testing my fortitude with his silence. His jaw was firm, as if fashioned of stone.
The longer he was quiet, the angrier I became.
Whatever his motives, I said to the Nightmare, he’s still a Destrier. He’s still a brute who hunts infected children and sends their families to the grave. One wrong move, and he’ll surely do the same to me.
Then be indispensable, the Nightmare purred, goading me. Go on, make him an offer. See what he’ll give.
I stood so abruptly my chair fell backward.
The dogs in the corner yipped, and Ravyn’s hand flew to his belt, his eyes alert. “What’s the matter?”
“I know you want Providence Cards,” I said, the words rushing out of my mouth. “I also know you don’t want the King to find out. Otherwise, you would not have bothered disguising yourself on the forest road.” I steadied my voice. “I’ll help you find Cards. I won’t tell anyone you and the Prince moonlight as highwaymen, and you, in turn, will keep my secret. But I need something else.”
Ravyn crossed his arms over his chest, surveying me anew. “The decision regarding how to handle your magic does not rest solely with me, I’m afraid.”
I stuck out my chin. Even reclined, calm in his seat, Ravyn Yew frightened me. Taking my silence in stride, the Captain asked, “What precisely do you want, Miss Spindle?”
My fingers shook. “I want you to leave my family alone. Do not punish them for hiding my infection.”
He nodded slowly. “If that is your wish.”
“And don’t go back to my uncle’s house,” I added. “He carries no Card you have not already shown me today.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about your uncle’s Cards.”
I blinked. “I wasn’t about to tell a man with a knife to my chest how to steal from my own family.”
“Brave of you.” Ravyn shifted in his chair. “Anything else?”
He’ll give anything to have your magic, the Nightmare cooed. Ask for something extravagant.
Like a magical procedure to remove the parasite from my head? I kept my face neutral and my eyes on the Captain of the Destriers. “One last thing.”
“Yes?”
I put my hands on the table and leaned forward without breaking our gaze. “You must swear, Captain, no matter the circumstance, you will never use that Nightmare Card on me again.”