Page 82

“I don’t understand it.” Kaelis paces in front of the fireplace of his room.

I’m stretched out on the sofa—the same one I was on after Eza’s second attack.

Kaelis, or Rewina more likely, managed to get the bloodstains out.

I suppose he really did like this particular piece of furniture after all to go through the trouble.

Priss is in my lap, extending her chin so far for scratches that her ears have drifted back until they’re plastered to her head.

“Why would he suddenly be for our union?” Kaelis brings his thumb to his lips and bites the nail. He does an exceptional job of keeping that particular habit hidden in public but has stopped caring when it’s just the two of us.

“I suppose it’s too much to think he just wants you to be happy?

” Even I know that’s definitely not the case.

Especially now that I have proof Ravin knows who I am.

But explaining that to Kaelis would involve explaining Silas…

and there are some things instinct has me keeping to myself.

Especially since I know Kaelis is still keeping things from me…

Kaelis stops and shoots me an incredulous look before he begins pacing again.

“He wouldn’t, not with us,” Kaelis says with absolute certainty. Then he adds, “He’s never cared for my happiness before. Not unless he thought he was getting something out of it.”

What I overheard between Ravin and Silas sticks in my mind. How eager Ravin seemed to be at the notion that I might care for Kaelis, or him for me. “Maybe…he believes it.”

“Believes what?”

“That you love me.” I lift my gaze from Priss, and our eyes lock.

Kaelis goes completely still, as if he hasn’t thought of the idea before and the concept is horrifying.

“From his perspective: Either you genuinely love me, and he gains some control of you through me, or…he’ll force us to give up the ruse by pushing us to the breaking point before we go through with our vows with the Four of Wands. ”

The prince remains a statue, his dark eyes boring holes through me.

Finally, with a shake of his head and a noise of disgust, he drags his feet over to the sofa opposite me.

Elbows heavy on his knees, he hunches over, runs a hand through his hair, bites his nails, and lets out another noise of disgust as he sinks back into the cushions looking positively incensed and yet somewhat defeated at the same time.

“You might be right,” he finally says.

“At least he’s wrong,” I say with a shrug.

“About what?” Kaelis’s expression is hard to read. I wish I knew what was going on in his head.

Let me in, part of me wants to say. The rest is afraid of what it would mean if he did.

“You don’t love me,” I say, looking back to Priss instead of him. “We’re both just a means to an end for the other. None of this is real, no matter what dresses or formalities we put on display. Which means, he can’t use me against you, or you against me. We still have the advantage.”

Kaelis says nothing. The silence drags on long enough that even Priss turns his way, prompting me to do the same. The fire is alight in his eyes. It burns at the edges of his face. Once more, he looks like he’s made of stone rather than flesh and blood.

“Right?” I press gently.

“Indeed,” Kaelis says. But the word is noncommittal, and I fight the flush that tingles across my whole body—a heat that’s part panic and part desire.

The rest of the winter break is spent working on my forgeries and preparing for the trials.

Without the familiar pattern of the academy’s bells, the days blur one into the next.

I don’t seek out Silas, not yet. Nor do I go to the townhome for leftovers from the solstice celebrations.

I’ve decided to dedicate myself entirely to the trials and then focus on the Feast of Cups—first one thing, then the next.

Kaelis and I still spend most of our hours apart, even though it feels like we’re the only two living things in the entirety of the academy.

But the distance between us no longer feels cold. If I had to describe it, I’d say it’s almost…fearful. As if we’re both afraid of what it will mean should we break this fragile truce. Whether we’d break away from or into each other.

I see the way he glances at me when he doesn’t think I’m looking. Just as I can’t stop thinking about how his fingers glide over the inked lines of the draft cards I present to him for his feedback.

Why are we doing this? The thought crosses my mind more than once when I’m alone in my bed. If we’re pretending to be lovers anyway, why not reap the benefits of it? I don’t think either of us is particularly inexperienced. So it’s unlikely that there are concerns over it being a “first time.”

One night, my musings carry me to his doors, my hand against the cool wood. Ready to enter his bedroom. To have him enter me and be done with this agony.

But I don’t do it.

I never can decide on the origin of my fear. Is it lingering anger and hate over Arina? Is it the skepticism I can never seem to move past when it comes to him? Or is it that even I don’t know the answer to the question I asked him days ago?

You don’t love me…right?

Of course not, I want to say. Yet, even in my own mind it rings hollow.

Before I can find my conviction, the students and other initiates return from their break. But there’s no time for the school to return to normal.

Just a few days after everyone arrives, the Three of Swords Trials will begin.

The day of the Three of Swords Trials breaks with blustering winds. The all-black cliffs of Eclipse City and the farthest edge of the Oricalis Kingdom get their first dusting of snow.

Every time this season rolls around, I can smell the phantom aroma of Jura’s mulled cider, threatening to bubble over because she filled her big pot to the brim and forgot to account for how much the cinnamon sticks would expand, or how much space a clove-speared orange would take up.

Licking my lips, I stare out through the frost-coated glass, past the river and to the city.

The winter solstice event, working with Kaelis, and preparing for the trials have consumed me.

Trials that I now face.

“Clara Redwin,” Professor Rothou calls from the doorway, drawing my attention back to the stony walls of the academy.

“Good luck,” Sorza offers from the opposite side of the hall, where she leans against the wall with Luren.

“You’ve got this!” Luren lays on the optimism a little too thick. We all know this is the trial I’m most likely to fail, even with her trying to help me at every study session we shared.

I merely smile and give them both a slight nod, feeling the eyes of the other initiates as I make my way to Professor Rothou. I’m called in the middle of the pack. Random draw.

The testing room is completely empty, save for two long tables that run parallel to each other. The nearest one stands alone, with no chairs surrounding it. On its surface are three decks of cards that mirror the position of the three department heads who are seated behind the table opposite.

Las Rothou takes her place at the end of the table where Vaduin Thornbrow and Raethana Duskflame sit as well. Rothou smiles warmly, as if we haven’t clashed on many occasions in her classes on the very subject she’s about to test me on.

“Welcome, Clara, to your reading trial,” Professor Rothou says. “When you are ready, please begin.”

I cross to the table with the decks of cards. The professors explained, in depth, every trial during their classes to better prepare us for what’s to come. I start at the rightmost deck—the one that corresponds with Professor Rothou. Her eyes shine—she’s amused, no doubt, that I’d pick her first.

To start this reading, I draw four cards, lay them out before me, and call out their names. As I do, the professors scribble notes. Save for Rothou—her eyes never leave me, even as I divert my gaze to the cards before me.

Early-morning light streams through the windows that line the room in vertical bars. Somehow, they make this place feel almost as cold and confining as Halazar itself.

They’re just cards, Clara. I can’t tell if it’s my voice reminding me of that, or my sister’s from beyond the grave. They don’t use you; you use them. Don’t be so afraid.

Sucking in a breath, I give my reading.

“Five of Cups: You’re facing a challenge in your personal life, some kind of loss, a rift between”—I almost stumble over my words—“sisters.” I touch the Six of Cups lightly, feeling its meaning as much as interpreting it with sight.

It doesn’t specifically mean sisters, just nostalgia for a time gone—childhood and early memories.

But sisters feels… right. Maybe it’s just the ache of mourning that’s still so deeply ingrained within me…

“A difference of opinion that is rooted in betrayal—Ten of Swords.”

My eyes dart to her. The cards are a window, and through them I can see right into her soul. At least, I think I can. But her expression has yet to falter or flinch, leading me to second-guess myself.

“The subsequent Page of Swords would recommend that, to get to the heart of the matter, one—or both—of you will need to let go of the barriers that you’ve put up. To be open to exploring new ideas for how to bridge the gap between you.”

Finally, she lowers her eyes and scribbles some notes. When none of them says anything, I move to the deck at the far end of the table: Vaduin’s.

If Las’s reading was as easy as looking through a window, his is as clear as a steel door. The cards make little sense to me, each as conflicting as the last: Five of Wands, Seven of Swords, Four of Coins, Eight of Cups.