It means everything, whatever lands I’m in.
He tsks and a suspicion raises in the back of my mind once more that he heard that thought. But Prince Draven just leans forward, elbows on his knees, strong hands shuffling his deck of cards, the paper black as pitch, the gold foil patterns shimmering in the hypnotic movement.
“What about the other items I brought … is there any chance—”
“Your clothes likely have met the incinerator by now.”
His gaze travels the length of me as I fall against the ropes. I don’t care about the clothes … well I do, but not the way I do losing that piece of my brother.
“Were they dreadfully important—”
“Why are we the only ones in this house?” If I’m stuck with him, at least I can get information out of him. I’m certainly not going to open up to him about something so personal.
“It’s a Hearth,” he corrects. His eyes avoid mine as easily as he did that question.
“Can you untie me so we can have a civilized conversation?”
“That depends. Are you going to behave?”
“So long as you give me some answers.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and I recognize something in him that I see in myself every time I look in the mirror. Resolution. Stubbornness. We might sit in these chairs glowering at each other until our bones grow brittle and our hair gathers dust. He rolls his eyes at me finally, impatience winning even if trust is too fragile to lace between us, and my ties drop. I rub my arms where they squeezed too tightly.
“You and I are the only ones to be chosen for this Arcana in half a millennium.”
I knew it must be rare by the lack of rooms available, but … I didn’t expect it to be that extraordinary. “Why is that?”
He shrugs, wetting those lips as he avoids my eyes, wrists coaxing, fingers twisting as he shuffles those cards over and over. “I’ve no idea. It’s … an extremely coveted Arcana. I’m just as confused as everyone else as to why it’d choose someone who so clearly doesn’t want anything to do with us.”
I force my expression into neutrality.
“Is it coveted because people want to be closer tothe prince”—I gesture in his direction—“or for its rareness?”
Draven’s smile spreads like a wildfire. “Both.” He examines his nails, and hair rises on my arms as I wait for the talons to appear that I know he can summon in a moment. But he keeps them at bay. “The World as your Arcana means you have immense magical capabilities.”
“Oh, like that little magic show you just put on?” I prod, pointing blatantly at his cards now. “Seemed an awful lot like you were trying to impress me.”
He ignores my jab. “It also gives you immense political influence. You could be … useful.”Or dangerous, is what he doesn’t say. “But perhaps the Arcana won’t stick. Maybe it’ll decide you’re not worthy of it.”
“Well, fuck you, too.” I grasp my necklace, clutching it tightly until it digs into my palm. He said that last sentence as if it was on his mind from the moment the World chose me. “So … me being chosen means your special Arcana is a little less rare … am I a threat to you?”
He meets my gaze, incredibly steady. I don’t look away.
“Only if you stand in my way.” His coldness is far more chilling than his fire ever was. “I’m up at four thirty every morning, gone by five. Stay out of my sight, and I’ll stay out of yours. Don’t try to kill me in my sleep. It’ll go very poorly for you.”
He moves toward his room, all preternatural grace. I stand, nearly tripping on the loose ropes of the blanket, stepping out of them awkwardly. My anger has mostly subsided, but I’m still frustrated, nerves burning through me so hard that I shake like a lightning-struck tree. I’m not done with this conversation.
“Are you going to tell me what the hells the World Arcana’s magical power is?” The heat from the fire doesn’t reach me. For all the warmth this room inspired when I first entered, I feel nothing but cold and alone now. “What’s the big secret?”
Draven doesn’t look back at me, only stares ahead into his room, a refuge my questions hold him back from. I think about what Ember said,He could be an ally, or a tool.
Finally, he turns to look at me, the shade in those eyes brightening again, resting in indigo.
“It’s all of them. Everything.” Those full lips quirk up in the corner. “If you’re strong enough.”
His eyes flick away dismissively, but I’m not done.
“I don’t understand this place.”
