“The World,” I reveal, but he shrugs.
“I suppose we’ll learn what they each mean at some point, and how they choose.”
I don’t answer. I remember the pull of the deck, as though the World and I were inexorably drawn to each other. As if it’d reached into my soul and unspooled the two desires fighting for control within me. Reunification and revenge, so opposite but pouring from the same wound.
Few people are in our column now, spaced out as we walk. Draven’s still surrounded by his group of friends, though he stops with them at the penultimate house.
“Finally.” I reach the house opposite of the entrance hall. An enormous globe stands outside the doors, a woman holding it like a womb, all of it made of gold. It’s the smallest house, confirming just how rare it is among the host of others. I hesitate at the short row of steps leading up to its front door. I turn to Morgan. “The druids don’t seem to be happy we’re here. Watch your back.”
“Don’t worry about me.” He winks, but then his look turns serious, and he leans too close. “Tomorrow we should all find each other. Stick together.”
But I don’t want to make anyone any promises. People can be allies or anchors, and I’m already fighting to keep my head above water in these uncharted seas.
“See you tomorrow, Morgan.”
The doors to the World’s Hearth are open, but I don’t hear anyone inside, and no one approaches. A large circular window sits above the main door, like a great glass eye.
The rest of the Hearths seemed to be full. Why is no one else here?
I cautiously enter. The floors are made of wood laid like herringbone; the ceilings are seamless granite blocks. The walls remind me of forests—varying textures from woods to calming green stalks edge the space. A clean, modern kitchen is tucked into the entry, opposite a water closet, and I pass it by to the main living room. Comfortable furniture takes over the central area, holding a fluffy couch facing a lit fireplace. There’s a fountain of stone and glass against the opposite wall, the tinkling water the only sound in the space.
“Hello?” I step farther in. A spiral staircase leads up to a second floor lined with bookshelves, a balcony overlooking the central space.
There are only two open bedrooms. I spot a jacket draped over a chair beside a small chess table in one of them. So, someone else does live here. Little knickknacks and personal effects dot the shelves. I branch off to the empty room on the right. An enormous bed takes up the two-story space, a loft reading area above, a library ladder leaned against one wall. I resist a smile—at least one whole wall and another in the loft are filled floor to ceiling with books; too many to read in one lifetime, though there’s space for more. This many books in one room in the mortal realms would’ve invited a raid from the Reapers, the immortals preferring to keep us ignorant. I relished the Lord ofWestfall’s collection, one of the rarest and largest, he’d told me, but it didn’t hold a candle to this.
Here, the books shine like jewels. Maybe they’ll have answers for me.
Warmth emanates from the lit fireplace against one wall.
An enormous arched window provides a clear view of the volcano in the distance, lava burbling at its top. More druid robes hang in the closet, a single wand pendant affixed to each in militaristic placement, demarking the lowly rank of my first-year status. A bathroom branches between the two rooms, a joint space, but at least it seems I’ll have only one roommate.
But for all the charm of this place, it feels like a trap, coiling as it readies to spring.
My gaze searches every shadow, but I’m alone.
The skin of my neck feels bare without the bone fishhook pendant my father left me, my pockets empty without the little broken king I usually run my thumb over like a worry stone. But aside from possibly poisoning the arrogant prince, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it.
They hold no power over me,I repeat beneath my breath, letting out a tight sigh as I sit on the mattress, the exhaustion of the day settling into my bones.
My gaze falls upon the hearth of my room, the merry fire cracking a log and sending sparks across the wood. I think of embers trailing behind King Silas. There were tales that the druids’ power was tied to fire, that they could listen in at every candle and flame … perhaps the legends were right.
My life has been marked by fire, too.
I think of the Lord of Westfall cursing my name as his manor burned around him. The scent of flames still clings to my hair.
Then something far worse—the smell of ash in the air as I ran across the snow …
Footsteps snap me from the nightmarish memory. Someone’s here.
I brace myself, walk over, and throw open the door.
Sprawled on the couch—as if he owns the place—is Prince Draven.
“Don’t worry, darling,” he says in that huskily sweet voice, eyes settled back on indigo. “I don’t want you here either.”
5Roommates
The Knight of Wands is ruled by fire and cannot be tamed, and though charismatic and alluring, his impulsiveness can lead to dangerous desires.
