“Good.” The apple in his throat bobs. “Then let’s move to the living room.”
He stands and walks by me, and his heady scent washes over me. I hesitate a moment. I don’t know why his agreementbothers me the way it does. What did I think? That he’d try to convince me to stay?
When we enter the comforting space, he summons the World to channel magic through his other Arcana cards. He summons the Moon first. His wings and horns reappear in smoke, as if he’s worried about eyes on us even here in this private space. He summons another card with such ease, golden magic dancing from his fingers, leaping to all the curtains until every window is veiled.
Draven comes to stand at my side and shows me the Emperor shuffled to the forefront of his summoned cards. Spying crystals draw into his spare hand, one flying out of my room, the other from a potted plant. He mentions casually, “The Emperor represents security, discipline, stability. And he grants the ability to move things with our very minds.”
Once again, he switches to Temperance.
“And Temperance removes magic?” I confirm, curious.
“Youarepaying attention.” He grins slowly. I bite my cheek and avoid answering.
I allow myself to imagine, just briefly, being that powerful—using the World to summon all the cards with ease, outmatching all other Arcana … I toy with these thoughts as he breaks and destroys each crystal just like he did the first, more slowly, so I can watch them turn from bright glowing crystal to dim rock, and then he casts them all into the fireplace. When the sizzling sound stops, he sits on the sofa, gesturing for me to join him.
Draven places his tarot deck on the coffee table, and I copy the motion with mine. He shuffles his cards, spreading them in one hand and with the other picks out a card. His deft fingers flip it until I can see the High Priestess clearly.
“In her upright form, the High Priestess allows the wielder to read the minds of others. But every Arcana can be read upright or in reverse, and it can also be summoned that way. So, in the reverse form”—he flips the card until it hangs upside down between us—“she can be used to manipulate and exert influence over others. The most successful druids with this Arcana can use it to fan an individual’s fears, desires, or corrupt their thoughts. Though it’s a low-ranking Arcana, many courtiers keep them around—often in roles as handmaidens, butlers, or perhaps even in their inner circles—for their influence.”
“You make the summoning look easy.” I chew my lip.
“You can snap your fingers—it helps. Or flick the top card. Training wheels for summoning.” Draven gestures to my cards.
I’ve tried flicking the card to no avail, so I snap my fingers in a flourish over my deck only for nothing to happen.
“It’s not show tunes, Rune.”
I shoot him a glare. “I’m trying.” I straighten up, his words stoking my anger. To calm myself, I focus my thoughts again on that field of snow, the repressive silence of it. The heavy weight of the world my singular, quiet companion.
“Like this.” His hand envelops my wrist, slowly guiding it. Again, he shows me his own, the command in that firm snap, as if he’s giving the order to a wayward hound.
I try again, putting my anger behind it, and am surprised when the World floats upright, summoned by my demand. My mouth drops open. I did it.
He bites back a smug grin, no praise, just pride shimmering in those eyes—of himself or me, I’m not sure. He flashes his hand to me, the one with the World card tattooed across the back. “If you were to elevate to a full druid, you could channel some limited magic without a deck. This little technicality iswhy you’re constantly on my mind unless I’m actively shutting you out.”
“You sound a little obsessed,” I say.
“You’re not the only one I have to endure, just the only one louder than my own thoughts.” He smirks as my lips curl and continues as if I haven’t interrupted him. “You don’t need access to tarot to mentally shield, only to look into others, so there’s a chance it’ll help you in Nevaeh. With both our hands on the reins, I’m hopeful we can shut it down completely. I think we’d both prefer that?”
“Just fucking teach me,” I growl, and his full lips curl.
“Earlier … you were imagining a snowy field. I couldn’t hear anything for once, but I could see that as clearly as if I stood there myself. Where was that?”
“A place in Westfall, near my old house,” I say, hands fidgeting in my lap.
“Why there?” His stare and question are innocent. The answer is something else.
“It was safe,” I manage.
“That’s all?” His gaze narrows, tinging sapphire, as if he can sense the omission but cannot decipher it.
“Why do your eyes change color?” A truth for a truth. I doubt his is as layered as my own. “None of the other druids have changing eyes.”
He blanches and glances away, running a hand through his long black hair, thumbnail grating one of his horns in the movement. “That hasn’t happened since I was young.”
“Seriously? I noticed it the first day—”
“Let’s just stay focused on you. Back to your snowfield. If it’s safe, we can use it. Now close your eyes. I want to try something.”
