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I nodded toward the books spread across his desk. “You haven’t exactly been taking breaks.”

Aric looked gorgeous as he concentrated his mental might on the task. Whenever he jotted notes, his hand would flex, and his icons would shift.

Despite the red witch’s lust for them, she wasn’t greedy for Aric’s. No longer did I hear her passing thoughts of killing him. She’d had a change of heart—now viewing him as a worthy, lethal companion. In fact, I’d gotten the crazy sense that she’d accepted him as her . . . Arcana mate.

“True,” he said. “It’s a compelling task, with much at stake.”

The majority of what he’d translated so far had been about Calanthe’s abilities, the nature of sins, and the power of guilt.

Although Aric had shared a fascinating snippet: “In the first game, an alliance existed between the Dawnrider, the Beast Whisperer, the Abysmal, and the Betrayer.”

“So Sol, Lark, and Circe. The Betrayer must have been the Hanged Man.” I frowned. “In the first game, I was in an alliance with Circe and Lark. Not Paul or Sol.”

“Perhaps they united after you’d died. Despite such a powerful union of four, they couldn’t defeat the Fool when he struck.”

“Then I wasn’t the only one he killed in that game?”

Seeming troubled, Aric murmured, “It appears not. . . .”

I’d scanned the English part of those chronicles, but other than a better understanding of Joules’s character (he was a big softie inside, for all that he acted like a bruiser), I hadn’t gotten much out of it. “Have you found anything else interesting?”

“I’ve just translated a section on the Minors.” The study’s firelight played on his excited expression.

This was huge! “What does it say?”

“We know that the Minors have three purposes—to hide evidence of the Major Arcana, to hasten the end of the game, and then to shepherd humankind into a better age. But these chronicles go into more detail about their specific roles.”

“Like what?”

“In past games, the Pentacles facilitated commerce, and the Cups focused on civilization and repopulation. The muse-historian Wands inspired art and religion—while recording events in the games. The Swords married knowledge and might, tasked with providing rational order.”

“They all sound wonderful and welcome. But in this game, the Cups were evil, and we know the Pentacles are trading women. And don’t forget that my grandmother specifically warned me about the Swords.”

“Perhaps the apocalypse has altered the suits. I recall that in the games following a time of peace, there were fewer malevolent Arcana. Only two or three.”

Like me.

I rose to find a pack of Tarot cards on the bookshelf, then brought it to my spot at the desk. I separated out the Pentacles, the Minors that Jack would soon face—because nothing I’d said would dissuade him from going to their fort. Stubborn Cajun.

Each of their cards featured a coin engraved with a five-pointed star. I turned one card upside down and frowned. “A pentacle upside down is a pentagram.” The kind kids used to spray-paint under bridges.

Aric glanced over. “Correct. The pentacle is a positive symbol, representing harmony among the five elements: air, water, fire, earth, and spirit. Inverted with a single point down, it represents a state of worldly goods or bodily desires corrupting the purer spirit. Only the Devil card features an inverted pentagram in his upright position.”

I found the Devil in the deck and grimaced at the depiction: a giant, horned goat-man perched above a man and woman in chains. The pentagram lay cradled between the Devil’s twisted horns. Vivid memories arose of Ogen strangling me—making it last—before Aric had come to the rescue.

A gust of wind hit the castle, and I shivered, could almost feel the temperature plunging. Snowmageddon was here to stay.

Aric had relayed to me that Sol felt the sun rise each day. It still worked, but maybe divine magics kept it hidden. Was that what kept the soil barren and the seas devoid of life? Was that why Lark’s creatures didn’t procreate without her power?

Was Jack’s need to reach the Pentacles all part of the tilted stage? “I’m nervous about Jack out there.” I didn’t downplay my feelings for him in front of Aric anymore. My knightly husband was too in tune with me; it’d be like trying to hide my feelings from myself.

“He was safe as of a few hours ago.” We’d talked to Jack earlier, asking him to rethink his journey.

Hampered by snow, he and his crew made only a mile or so a day. “Not you too,” he’d said, sounding exhausted. Apparently, the others had been giving him pushback.

I asked Aric, “What if the game is luring Jack toward a MacGuffin?”

“Perhaps it is. But if they reach the Sick House, he will investigate threats to you.”

“What powers do you think the Pentacles might have?”

“I can only speculate. I hope these chronicles will provide more answers.”