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I whirl. The deck on my hip responds to a flick of my fingers, three cards lifting from the pack and fanning out, hovering at my side. Each one ready to serve.

“Oh, there is some bite after all . ” Eza lifts his hands in a mockery of a motion of surrender. He clearly isn’t threatened by me in the slightest. “I think our little welcome party upset her.”

“Seems like it,” the man at his right side says with a low snigger. A mop of brown hair shadows his dusky eyes. “Though look at how she must move to summon cards. Can’t even do it with thoughts alone. I expected more from Kaelis’s chosen bride.”

“Really? I didn’t. Seems about on par for our illustrious leader.

” The third man, at Eza’s left, shrugs. Hoops and bars line his ears, exposed by the shaved sides of his head.

His only hair is a single strip of black, loosely spiked.

A tattoo pokes above his collar, the dark lines intricate on his tawny skin.

From his septum piercing to the severity in his shockingly violet eyes, it’s clear he’s honed his appearance to be as imposing as possible.

Unfortunately for him, it takes a lot more than a sharp needle and little bits of metal to intimidate me.

“Leave it, Eza,” Myrion warns, stepping between us. But it’s clear his words do little to deter the angry man.

“Always a Lover, aren’t you?” Eza sneers.

“You should try making love instead of war, for once,” Myrion counters. “Goodness knows it might help you unwind a bit. I could help you with that, one way or another, if you wanted.”

Eza scoffs at the implication and brushes past Myrion, their shoulders crashing together. I’ve yet to move. Every part of me is locked on to Eza’s movements. Ready to react. I won’t let him put me back in that mental prison…I’ll kill him first.

“Know your place before I put you there.” Eza tilts his head back, looking down his nose at me.

“I know mine.” I flash him a coy little smile. “But if you want, I’ll gladly show you yours.”

“If you’re going to duel, do it in the ring. Those’re the rules,” someone else says. I don’t look to see who. Nothing in Eza’s actions makes me think he cares at all for the “rules.”

“Duel?” He scrunches his nose in disgust, but the expression quickly melts, his eyes lighting with amusement.

“Perhaps I will. But on my time. Maybe I’ll put you in the ground when the wielding test of the Three of Swords Trials comes around.

That way everyone can witness how pathetic Kaelis’s ‘bride’ is.

” Eza leaves, the other two in tow. As soon as they’re gone, the air seems lighter.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say to Myrion, easing out of my stance. The cards return to the deck.

“I get my own pleasure out of telling him he’s an ass. It wasn’t only for you.” The man gives me a kind smile.

“I don’t want it for me at all.” They’ll never respect me if they think they can walk all over me.

Fantasies of revenge are already fluttering through my mind.

But those things will have to wait until I’m stronger.

As much as I hate to admit it, it’s probably for the best that, right now, Eza and I didn’t end up throwing cards.

“Noted.” Myrion steps away, rejoining the remaining three.

“I’m Thal.” The individual recently in the dueling arena steps over and perches themself on one of the tables, sending the little pieces of a forgotten game scattering without care.

They have light skin and honey-colored hair that highlights the warm tones of their hazel eyes, so their Major seems apt when they say, “Nineteen, the Sun.”

“Elorin.” A woman of House Wands bows her head.

She has waves of hair that are black at the roots but quickly fade into a rainbow ombré over her shoulders.

Her rosy cheeks, bright blue eyes, and full red lips stand out against her ghostly pale skin, giving her an almost doll-like appearance. “Two, the High Priestess.”

“Sorza, as you well know…I’m Justice, apparently.” Her tone and expression betray that she’s as unsure about all of this as I am, reassuring me the Majors weren’t a secret she’d been keeping from me. She’s still someone I think I can trust. Somewhat. At least for now.

“Of course, we’ve met as initiate and student. As Majors, I’m the Lovers.” Myrion folds his arms, leaning against one of the tables. “And I see you had the pleasure of meeting the terrible trio.”

“Eza is the Hanged Man,” I start, hoping someone will fill in the other two blanks.

Myrion does. “Cael is his right hand, the Emperor. And the brown-haired one is Nidus, the Tower. Cael and Nidus are second years, and you’ll have the delight of dealing with Eza as a fellow first year.”

“He’s already so close with second years?” It’s half question, half musing.

“The delights of nobility. They all come in knowing each other. Nidus is also Clan Moon and even though Cael is common born, he’s Nidus’s best friend,” Thal says dryly. “Though, I suppose as Miss I-recently-found-out-I’m-a-long-lost-heiress, you’ll join that club soon.”

“You’re all second or third years?” I shift the topic off me and my fake nobility. Thal, Myrion, and Elorin all nod. “When you graduate, will you go to the clan of your namesake?”

The noble clans were said to have been founded by individuals who embodied and believed the ethos of their Major the most. Now that I think about it…

such a claim lines up best with Kaelis’s story of the Fool.

If each of the Majors were people, long ago, then of course they would be powerful and respected enough to be leaders.

“Not necessarily,” Elorin answers. “As Kaelis said, Majors are assigned to clans like other Arcanists, depending on need or, occasionally, personal relation to the clan. I’d bet that you will be ‘assigned’ to Clan Hermit, since you don’t have your own Arcanist.”

“Don’t have much of anything thanks to your fiancé’s work years back,” Thal mutters.

“Most don’t know of the Majors’ existence,” Myrion continues.

I wonder if it’s purely by chance he shifted the topic so quickly, or if he knows something about Clan Hermit.

“Only King Oricalis himself, his inner circle, Head Lords and Ladies of clans, and those who are related to a Major know about us. Though we’re technically supposed to keep what we are a secret, even from our families, should they not already have uncovered the truth. ”

“A few Majors are kept at the castle court, under the close watch of the king himself,” Elorin adds.

“In service to the king,” Myrion corrects.

“In service to,” Elorin repeats. Her tone shifted when she began speaking about the castle court, but not in a way I can read.

“What noble clans do you all belong to, if any?” I hazard a guess that her opinions of the court would be shaped by her belonging to, or not belonging to, a noble clan.

“No nobility here,” Elorin says. That surprises me, as those rainbow robes dotted with golden stars look quite expensive. “My parents work on the riverboats that ship powders.”

“Myrion Leva, at your service.” Myrion bows his head respectfully.

“Leva? I know that name.” I knew he was of Clan Lovers from our turn about the room. But I didn’t suspect he was the heir.

“I’m honored. Yes, my father is High Lord Ixil Leva of Clan Lovers.” He looks embarrassed by the admission. Why? It should be a source of pride for him.

“I didn’t know I took a walk with a man one step from royalty on night one.”

“Hardly.” Myrion rubs the back of his neck and glances at Elorin, who pointedly fixates on the corner of the room.

“Clan Magician, but not a family name you’d recognize,” Thal says. “I’m pretty low, as far as us nobles go.”

“Sorza Sprigspark.” Ah, she’s from northwest of Eclipse City, where the Blood Forests are. Sprigspark is the name given to the orphans there, much like Graysword here in the south.

“Clara Redwin,” I say, careful not to mess up my newest fake name.

I doubt many people can say they’ve been known by four names in their life: I was born to the name Chevalyer, though I never went by it in my life—my mother swore Arina and me to secrecy over our birth name from the first moment we learned of its existence.

Then there was Daygar, the name Mother told us to tell people.

That name lasted the longest. Graysword when I was captured and sent to Halazar.

Now Redwin. Kaelis is lucky I’m so well versed in learning and responding to fake names.

“Though I suppose you all know that by now.”

“I’m fairly certain all the students know your name.” The way Myrion says it, I don’t think he believes that to be a good thing. “Are you the Wheel of Fortune, or the Star?”

“What?” It takes a good moment for the question to sink in. “Oh…” Fortune, that’s what Kaelis called me. “Wheel of Fortune, I suppose.”

“ Hah, I was right. Star’s last.” Thal holds out their hand to Myrion with a catlike grin. The latter places a large silver coin in their hand—a doln—with a roll of his eyes.

These two were betting a whole doln on who would be the next Major? So much for thinking Thal was a “lower” noble. That kind of money is rarely seen changing hands so flippantly.

“Well…now that we all know each other and our Majors, what next?” I ask.

“Afternoon classes on the Major Arcana,” Elorin announces with a swish of her hand, sending the flowing multicolored fabric of her clothes dancing around her arms. “And we’re your teachers.”

We all coalesce around the back table that she, Myrion, and Sorza had previously been hunched over.

It’s laden with exquisite papers of varying finishes, ink canisters filled with powders, empty containers, and crystal palettes.

I hadn’t thought it possible, but the brushes and pens are even nicer than what was in my room.

I can’t help but wonder what the prince himself uses.

“Let’s begin.” Myrion slides up to the table.