The rest of the first game went quickly. They played ferociously, so fast I sometimes couldn’t keep up. And they liked to play out of turn too; they were so sure of what everyone had left in their hands that they just threw cards down whenever, regardless of whose turn it was. Fionn was especially guilty of this, throwing his cards as soon as he knew he’d lost.
But while Fionn and Elena had started off down by two points, they came back strong, and they ended up winning thefirst round. Beside me, Ciaran clenched a fist, and his mouth hardened into a thin line. He did not like to lose. Interesting.
Elena and Fionn bumped their fists together while Fionn made a noise that sounded like “ooloooloolloooo,” and Elena exclaimed, “TRIOMPHE!”
I looked at Ciaran, who was scowling.
“Again.” He drained his glass of sparkling wine and began shuffling the deck, angrily this time, like the cards had broken his trust. Rory grimaced at me. No. They were not accustomed to losing. And Elena and Fionn were terrible winners.
“Will you play this round?” Rory dipped his chin toward me.
“Will you play slower?” I didn’t think I could keep up with the speed at which they had played the last game.
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” Ciaran groaned as he got up, swinging his long legs around the side of the bench. He headed to the kitchen counter and refilled his glass. He brought the bottle of wine back to the table and refilled mine too, swinging one leg back over the bench and sitting. He was now straddling the bench, facing me, my body positioned in between his legs.
The world stopped for a moment as my eyes met his, a question obvious in mine, as he rushed to explain.
“So I can see your cards.”
Breathless, I nodded and scooched infinitesimally closer to him, his warmth enveloping me; that scent of rosemary was intoxicating. We were so close I could feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took.
Fionn cleared his throat and shook his head as he deftly shuffled and started dealing.
So we played. Well, I tried. I was just starting to get the hang of it when I felt a warm hand brush against my lower back, felt that hand curve around my hip and stroke gently. The touch was so light, I almost second-guessed myself. Was he actually touching me? Or had he just brushed against my backaccidentally while he rested his hand on his leg? That leg which was now a searing point of contact against my backside.
“No, no, love. Don’t play that yet,” Ciaran murmured in my ear, his voice low and rough as sandpaper. “That’s it.” He approved of my choice. And I felt that touch again—so light, so impossibly light, but there was no mistaking it this time. Ciaran’s fingers idly stroked my lower back, each featherlight touch sending ricochets of pleasure skittering up my spine. Each brush added to the deliciously torturous ache that was reaching a critical point between my thighs. My breath caught with each touch, and I could hardly concentrate on the game at hand. My mind was wandering to the possibilities of what could take place once this game was over…
No. No, no, no.I was resolute. I would not ruin whatever platonic arrangement existed between Ciaran and me. I was just starting to fit in amongst this unusual friend group. It would be so, so, so foolish of me to give in to whatever was going on between us. Even if I wanted to. So badly.So, so, so, so badly.
But his hand brushed my lower back again, and my resolve was crumbling. I shifted, leaning further into the touch, my shoulder bumping up against his chest. The warmth radiating off Ciaran clouded my senses, made my judgement murky.
Fionn cleared his throat pointedly. “Seraphina? You going to play?”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. My desire-addled brain could not even focus on this game. Ciaran seemed to snap out of a stupor as well, as he graciously pointed out which card I should play next.
I tossed it onto the awaiting pile. Unsurprisingly, I did not win that hand. But the hand at my back curved around my hip once more.
The next round was Elena’s turn to deal. She shuffled the cards between elegant fingers and dealt quickly, cards snickingagainst the table as she did. Once everyone had their cards, I picked mine up. Strangely, I only had one suit: coins. I shifted them back and forth in my hand, trying to order them from lowest to highest. The shape on the coins was eerily familiar. I tried to place it in my memory. Elena’s voice snapped me out of my daze.
“Seraphina, you are cut off from drinking anymore wine if you want to keep playing,” she teased, indicating that it was my turn. But my mind was not fuzzy from alcohol. In fact, it was very clear, it just wasn’t in this room at the moment. In my mind, I was standing centre stage at the opera house, looking down at the point which was marked by a small golden disc about the size of an apple, with a five-pointed star engraved in the top.
“Is everything okay?” Ciaran shifted behind me, his hand on my back squeezing reassuringly. I could feel the blood draining from my face.
“Rory. Is this what the Pentacle would have looked like? That sacred object you mentioned in our first lesson?” I spread out my five cards face up on the table. All five in the suit of coins.
“Yes, of course it is,” Elena scoffed. “The other name for the coins suitispentacles.”
Rory coughed and Elena shrugged apologetically. I hadn’t asked her. But I took her answer as truth anyway.
I took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain what I thought I had just figured out. What I had remembered. Wondering if it meant anything at all.
“There is one of these in the opera house. Centre stage. I always thought it was curious, but I assumed it was just part of the decor. Everything in there is gold and gaudy, so it wasn’t exactly out of place,” I started. The four of them stared at me with mild curiosity. “Is it possible that it’s this lost Pentacle? It’s a disc, golden, about this big.” I held out my hands to show them the approximate size. “And it has that five-pointed star engravedin the top. I never thought anything of it until I saw it on these cards. It’s the same, though.” The hand that rested on my hip tightened.
“Ciaran…” Elena began.
“The Pentacle has been lost for an age. We know very little about it. I suppose it’s possible it could be in the opera house, though…” Rory mused.
“What does it do? What kind of magic?” I asked. Elena and Ciaran were having a silent conversation.
