“You keep using that word. What the hells doesfatedmean?” I ask.
He seems relieved that I’m still willing to listen. “For druids it’s like soulmates. That we’re bound to each other by fate,” he says, moving an onyx piece from the chessboard, the bishop again, to capture my white marble rook. “The Court can’t deny that kind of claim without evidence; it surmounts anything: love, arranged betrothals.” He grins, a clever fox. “It’s important for it to be believable. That guise would allow you certain privileges, and me an incomparable ally, so that I can do what must be done.”
He levels a look at me, and I know that being with him will mean far more than a ceremony and our names written side by side. “I don’t demand a small price, Rune. But a steep one. I need your help to make Arcadia safe for everyone. That means taking the throne. All of them.”
The vision reemerges in my mind. Bloody hands and that crown of four kingdoms welded together over that snowy field, silent as a graveyard.
His gloved hands steeple, teeth clamping hard enough his jaw muscles flex. He really wants this. I doubt he’s even dared to voice it aloud, as it sounds awfully close to treason.
“You want to rule all of Arcadia? The druid kingdom isn’t enough?”
“You think I’m greedy?” There’s a slight scoff to his voice, as if he assumed that would be my reaction. Yet he speaks as if he sees a future that I can’t, one he believes in as much as if it were right before him. Every time I make a move now in our chess game, his is instant. Too far ahead.
“I don’t want their lands or power. Only safety for my people. For all people. King Altair has positioned himself above my father and the elven king, readying himself to become anemperor, a tyrant. Butwhy should he lead? So long as he’s in power, we’re all at risk, and the elven king may as well be his lapdog. Altair will oppress the mortals and eventually other immortals, too. Someone is going to rule all lands in this game of kings, so why not me? Why not a queen, too?”
I pause, looking at the chessboard, lost in thought. King Altair was terrifying, powerful. I don’t think I’ve looked into eyes that held so much disdain before. But I didn’t ask for this, fighting to save the very immortal kingdom I’ve hated all my life. Though, I’d be saving the mortal realm with it.
“Fixing the world is a nice dream, Draven. But practically?” Even girls untouched by the Selection were faced with the kinds of limited options I was. The stark differences between haves and have-nots was smothering. A world so dark any sparks of light that entered it were quickly snuffed out. I try to not think of Kiana’s beautiful smile, swallowing hard. “Where would you even start?”
A smile blossoms on Draven’s lips, the first genuine one since we retreated here. He can see my openness, that I’m willing to at least hear him out. Running a hand through his silken dark hair makes me wish I could comb through it myself. I look at the board and realize he’s already won but never announced it.
“There was a prophecy once … that someone would draw the World as their Arcana and gather four fabled artifacts to save us from ourselves. The Arcadian Artifacts. I’ve seen the prophecy myself. My father called the Arcadian Artifacts a fairy tale.” His eyes glimmer in the darkness. “But after seeing that crown in your hands, I believe they exist. You’re the key to helping me find them.”
14The Deal
The Eight of Swords represents confinement, restriction, and potential self-sabotage. But in itsreverseform, it is representative of possibilities and freedom from one’s problems.
AIR SIZZLES BETWEEN US,heated by his unbreaking attention, before it trails down my face, settling on my lips. He thinks I’m the key to this impossible dream? Or a tool to be used? He tilts his head as though he heard that, but my mental wards feel secure, and he moves a rook piece, oddly lining himself up for me to take it.
“These objects are considered legends, fables, stories to inspire.” He gestures vaguely to the tomes stacked on his desk. “But there are hints of them throughout history if you know where to look.”
I sit back surveying him. “So, go get them, Prince. Youalsohave a World Arcana, if I recall.”
“And if I recall,youheld the crown in the vision. That vision, Rune … peace between druids, seraphs, and elves must be won. King Altair won’t be the one to bring it to Arcadia. But I could. With you.” Draven’s eyes hook mine. “These objects are how Iget power and you get your family. How we both get vengeance against the immortals who’ve held it all for too long. This is the only chance I have of becoming king of Arcadia, and that you have of getting your family back.”
I slouch back in the chair, scoffing. Four legendary items and a pretend betrothal, but my family returned to me. He dangles power wrapped in promises, and I can’t help but reach for them. But I need to be cautious. If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Folding my hands in my lap, I meet his indigo eyes and concede a nod.
“What objects could bring all four kingdoms to heel?” I ask, finally.
A grin flashes across his face before he turns earnest. “In the mortal lands, there’s an enchanted grail. It’s said that a drink from this cup will reveal your truest self and break all bonds. Oathbreaker, cleaver of spells. Presumably made to spare mortals from immortal bonds and ties.”
“Any pledges?” I ask, heart racing.
“You’d no longer be sworn to my father. You could find your family, break their bonds, too. They can possibly be transformed, returned to their mortal forms.” The light from the fire reflects in his eyes, bright and brilliant and hellish, the blue all but waned away.
“Why wouldyouwant such a power?” My wants for it are simple, plain as he outlined, but this is an item he already desires for himself.
“We can serve no one but ourselves if we’re to succeed.” That includes his own father. Would he strike against King Silas if it came to it? Is that guilt gathering in his eyes? Or am I assuming too much of someone who longs for power?
“And the other items?”
“In the seraph kingdom, there’s a sword,” he says. “Lightbringer. The blade is considered cursed, but it disappeared during the Great War and is rumored to be hidden in a temple across their borders. I can’t say it’s there for certain, but it’s said to contain the trapped soul of a fallen god. Whoever wields it will control a power that could bring all of Arcadia to heel. One that could kill even Altair, who is not just a seraph but a demigod.”
The fact Draven protected me from that kind of danger at all leaves me stunned. I refocus on the mysterious sword, possibly the best tool in our arsenal. “What kind of power does it contain?”
“I don’t know. But it’s killed a demigod before.” Draven rolls his shoulder, fiddling with that magic ring of his, and I wonder if it burns. “Somewhere in Sedah there’s also a wand that could summon an army of hells’ finest, splitting open the world, capable of portaling entire armies. As for the elves … they have a ring so powerful that it can be used to bend others’ wills. Imagine being able to erase hatred from every mind. Or at least make them lay down their swords?”
“Cup, sword, wand, ring. Those are the suites of the Minor Arcana.”
