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“Sounds good.” Sounds ambitious. Her cooking was . . . interesting. Last week she’d used her Empress talents to mix a delectable herb seasoning for eggs, but then burned the dish black. So we’d begun working as a team, and our efforts were rewarded.

As she snipped sprigs of thyme, her expression grew contemplative. Before Paul, she’d readily shared her thoughts. Now she held back.

Lamentable, yet understandable. “What are you thinking about?”

“Past games. Even after reading my chronicles, I still have gaps. I wish I remembered more.”

Perhaps she hadn’t because she couldn’t handle what would be revealed. I’d stopped pushing for her to. The Hanged Man had taught me one thing: what lay in the past should remain there.

At least with her. With other Arcana, I’d paid for harsh lessons and must heed them. “Like what?”

“How did Circe die in that game when you saved her from me?”

“The Fury struck her with acid.” I hadn’t been there, but I’d seen the gruesome aftereffects. “The Priestess’s doom is that she always comes to land. Her arrival marks the end stage of the game.”

We hadn’t heard from her since Jubilee. It could be months before she grew strong enough to surface.

“I hope that she stays put in her temple in this one.”

“Yes.” If we could thwart it. Otherwise, the Priestess, like me and all the others, must perish for Evie and our son to live.

And still I clung to the hope of a way out. But we hadn’t discovered the answer in any of the chronicles I’d secured. Perhaps they’d be in those of the Temperance Card.

“Why has Richter never posed such a threat in the past?”

I crossed to her to hold the basket as she worked. “He was killed early, well before his powers matured to this level.”

“So what do we do now?”

Whatever I must, I thought, but I answered vaguely, “Richter uses much of his reserves to deflect attacks. If we hit him hard enough, even his unholy fires will cool. Then he will be a mere man.” Two games ago, I’d tortured him as such—meting vengeance for my wife.

“And what about Zara? You once told me that if she’s fully empowered with all luck flowing to her, then we’ve already lost.” Evie had asked if the odds would always be fixed in Zara’s favor. I’d answered honestly, Not odds. Fixed outcomes. We would have no odds.

In a dry tone, I said, “Then let us hope Fortune is not fully empowered.” Her luck-energy manipulation made her one of the most perilous players. If not the most.

“I’m being serious, Aric.”

“I’ve taken her down in a past game, my armor enabling me to withstand the attacks from her environment.” My unaltered armor. “Granted, I faced her early on, but I did reap her icon.”

Oh, the thoughts going on behind Evie’s eyes as she asked, “Are you planning to do it again?”

“I’m planning to protect my family. I will stop her.”

With a frown, Evie drew back from me and headed to the strawberries. When she leaned down over the plant, that blouse button popped off, revealing breathtaking cleavage.

Look away!

But when I wrested my gaze from that bounty of flesh, I found my wife staring up at me with yearning.

I dropped the basket. “Sieva.” My lips were against hers in a heartbeat.

She clutched me closer and moaned into my mouth as our tongues met. She was a goddess; she tasted of all things divine. With her, even an immortal like me could find my way to heaven.

Another moan as she grew lost in our kiss. I lifted her atop that memorable potting bench, and the scent of earth bloomed around her, joining with all the misty greenery surrounding us.

My goddess.

She beckoned me from the grave to join her in her world. When her legs spread for me, I worked my hips between her thighs. We fit so perfectly.

My shaking hands dropped to her backside. Her lush curves wrenched another groan from my lungs.

Gentle with her. Be gentle!

Even as I cursed my growing strength, I dropped down to kiss her neck and rub my face against her breasts. She gave a cry, throwing her head back. The scent of her hair swept me up, making my mind swim.

Just when I grew certain she’d surrender, she murmured, “Wait,” and pulled back. “I-I can’t do this.”

My voice a harsh rasp, I said, “I know Jack resides in your heart. I don’t care.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not ready. Not yet.”

I somehow drew away from her warmth. “Not yet? So there is hope for me?”

She blinked in confusion. “Of course. I’m here with you. I chose to be here with you.”

“Because of our child.”

“No. We started something new between us over the months we were together here. I never wanted it to end.”

“Yet that was before you knew Jack had survived. You wouldn’t have accepted me otherwise.”