When he was done, he opened his eyes and found Cass sitting outside the circle across from him, her expression serene as the glow of magic danced between them. “Everything okay?”
“It is now.” The dull ache in his head was gone, and so was his earlier irritation. In its place was a grim determination fueled by an underlying fury that wasn’t going away anytime soon. “You were right.”
He expected a flash of satisfaction at his admission. Instead, her expression didn’t change. He touched a rune by his hip and pulled his magic back. The lines of power faded and then winked out, but he didn’t move from his position. “What does he gain by turning me against you?”
A frown marred her brow, and she tapped her fingers on her knee. “Distraction. If I’m busy arguing with you, I won’t keep pushing Sofia.”
“So if he’s arrogant enough to try to manipulate a Key, why wouldn’t he just cut out the middleman and go straight to fucking with you?”
Her lips curved, and her eyes hardened, giving her face a merciless cast. “Because Oracles have a natural resistance to magical manipulation. Fate’s a bitch, and She’s not inclined to bend for anyone, nor does She like people interfering with Her mouthpieces.”
Uh, learn something new. “And you’re sure he didn’t mess with you?”
Warmth chased away Cass’s cold edges, leaving a genuine grin in its wake. “I’m sure.”
Not fully convinced, Grayson held out his hand in silent invitation. She shook her head but got to her feet and took his hand. He kept hold as she stepped carefully across the lines until he had her where he wanted her. He pulled her down so she was sitting in front of him, their knees touching as they mirrored each other.
He claimed her other hand and then held both as he unfurled his magic, reigniting the lines. “Ready?”
She nodded.
The red tendrils curled around her with a slow grace, and he sank into his power, studying the woman before him. Searching another person for possible curses meant studying their magical fabric for any unnatural imperfections. In the simplest terms, it was like examining a unique coat for tiny rips and tears, but first, you had to learn what the coat was supposed to look like. He let go of her hands and lifted his to hover just above the crown of her head. He watched her intriguing eyes widen.
“Your eyes…” she said.
They were probably glowing in that freaky way they did when he opened the throttle on his magic. “It’s all good,” he reassured her. “Ready?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed, but she gave him a decisive nod.
He moved his hands apart and swept them down either side of her at a slow, steady pace. Cass’s coat came together in his mind with a wash of silver, gold, and stormy white gray. The colors were ever shifting, like a churning sea. The constant movement made it difficult to find things that didn’t belong. Absently, he noted a few spots where her magical material appeared to have been mended. He gently brushed a metaphoric hand over those imperfections, testing them even as Cass’s breath hitched. When they resisted his touch, he moved on, searching intently, but nothing appeared out of place. When he was sure she was clear, he pulled back, his power once again draining away. He sat there, holding her hands in his, as they stared at each other in the quiet.
She was the first to speak. “You feel better now?” The question carried a gentle tease.
“I do.”
She squeezed his hands. “Good.” She let him go, got to her feet, and held her hand out. “Come on. Let’s clean this up.”
He let her pull him up, and they cleaned up the circle and put the living room back together. Cass was preparing to gather up her cards when he stopped her. “You didn’t finish telling me the rest of the reading.”
“There’s not much left to share.” From the top of the four-card column, she picked up a gold-washed card of a man in chains, hanging upside down. “The outcome. Prometheus, the Hanged Man. Basically just confirms that the future is uncertain and we need to watch for a new path to present itself.”
Not exactly helpful, but then again, divination never offered clear answers. He touched the card now topping the column. “This one?” When she shot him a worried frown, he asked, “What?”
“Out of all the cards, this tends to be the most challenging to read.”
“Why?”
“It’s supposed to address the hopes or fears surrounding the question, but sometimes it can represent both.”
He studied the gold-laced full moon that rose behind a white-haired woman, her face half shadowed, her gaze contemplative. “Selene.”
“The Moon card.” She picked it up and studied it. “Considering all the other factors at play, my guess is she represents the fear of losing the ability to choose.”
He didn’t like how his stomach tightened at the implication. “That makes sense, especially if Russ has no issues about exploiting others.”
“No wonder Mother and Father like him,” she muttered as she tucked the card into the deck. She reached for the last card sitting above the Hanging Man, but he got there first.
“What about this one?” He picked up the card showing a blond woman crowned by black roses, her arms filled with pomegranates and roses.
