Her eyes gleamed, catching the light of the lantern. “We read the cards.”
I froze. The last time I’d done a proper reading, the Tower had turned up in the middle of my life like an unwanted guest, and nothing had been simple since.
“Nova…”
She squeezed my hand, firm but kind. “Nothing is as it seems right now. Not Keegan’s curse. Not Gideon’s presence. Not the shadows above us. The cards don’t solve, but they reveal. And what you need, Maeve, is clarity.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “What I need is a nap.”
“Clarity first,” she said with a small smile. “Then sleep.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting her steadiness seep into me. She didn’t judge, didn’t scold. She just held me there in the flickering light of the hall, like someone who had walked through worse storms and knew the only way out was to keep listening to the world around us.
“Alright,” I whispered. “A reading, but only if you promise to keep my secret.”
Nova chuckled softly, the sound as rare as it was precious. “Your secret is safe. Come, Hedge Witch. Let us see what the threads are trying to tell you.”
Chapter Twenty
Nova led me down a quieter wing of the Academy, and the sconces dimmed as if bowing us through. The runes along the walls thrummed in low notes, uneasy with the shadows gathering outside.
Her chamber was tucked into the corner, small but saturated with the kind of magic that sank into your skin the moment you crossed the threshold.
Candles flickered on their own accord, blooming to life with pale blue flames. Crystals buzzed faintly from the shelves. And in the center sat a low, round table, draped in velvet the color of twilight. Her chambers reminded me of her shop in the center of Stonewick.
On the cloth rested a wooden box carved with moons and vines. Nova slid it open with reverence, revealing the tarot deck. The cards shimmered faintly as though they recognized the weight of tonight.
“They’re different than the ones at your shop.”
“Sit,” Nova said gently. “And breathe.”
I lowered myself onto the cushion opposite her, heart thrumming. She laid the deck between us, the backs painted with a starfield that seemed to shift when I blinked.
“The cards know what we do not say,” Nova murmured. “They listen when we cannot.” She lifted the deck and handed it to me. “Shuffle, child. Pour your worries into them.”
My fingers trembled as I slid the cards against each other. The air itself seemed to bend around us, hushed and waiting.
I thought of Keegan’s fevered eyes, his whispered pleas not to let Gideon in. I thought of Gideon, shadows stitched into his skin, hidden only steps away from where Keegan lay. I thought of the students, laughing brightly in the common halls, unaware of how close the sky itself was to breaking.
When I could bear it no longer, I set the deck down.
Nova touched the top card and smiled faintly. “Good. Let us see.”
She spread the cards in a fan, her long fingers moving like water. “Choose three.”
I picked without thinking, my hand drawn as if by invisible threads. Nova laid them down in a line.
The first card flipped:The Moon.
Its silver glow shimmered on the painted surface, a woman half-turned, her face split between light and shadow. Wolves howled at her feet.
“The Moon,” Nova said softly. “Confusion. Illusions. Secrets half-revealed. It warns of what cannot be trusted and of the truths hidden in dreams.”
How fitting.
A shiver ran down my arms. Dreams. The Hedge. Gideon’s voice whispering where it shouldn’t.
The second card:The Lovers.
