We sat in the kitchen watching Pip absolutely destroy Calder at cards while Lucy laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. The little sprite had been learning his strategy, and now she was using it against him with vicious efficiency.
“That’s—” Calder stared at his cards. “How did you?”
“Youtaught me to count the cards!” Pip chirped, laying down her winning hand with a flourish that made her blue hairshimmer brighter than her matching eyes. “You said I should always know what’s been played and what’s left. So I did!”
Her cheeks were flushed pink, wings fluttering with excitement. She’d been spending more time with Calder over the past few days, and I’d noticed the way she looked at him—shy glances when she thought no one was watching, the way she laughed a little harder at his dry comments. It could never work, but I loved a girl for dreaming... big.
“Rematch, Pip Squeak,” Calder demanded, already gathering the cards.
“You’re just going to lose again,” the Oracle said, leaning back in her chair. “The sprite’s got your number, Heartless One.”
“Impossible. She got lucky.”
“Three times in a row?” Riot asked, winking at Pip.
Calder shot him a look that would have been threatening if Pip wasn’t giggling into her hands.
We’d all found solace in these moments together, even if that wasn’t Calder’s intention. Something about avoiding the outside world kept us anchored to each other. Riot and Aureth had become part of that anchor, though I wasn’t sure when exactly it had happened. The Oracle sat now with her teacup cradled in both hands, steam rising past her blindfold as she listened to Pip’s victorious chattering with the kind of serene patience that made me think she genuinely enjoyed the chaos. Every so often, she’d tilt her head toward whoever was speaking, a small smile playing at her lips like she could see more than just the words being said.
“Calder,” she said suddenly, interrupting his grumbling about rematch rules, “you’re going to knock over your water glass in approximately one second if you keep gesturing like that.”
His hand froze mid-wave, hovering dangerously close to the glass.
“How did you—” Lucy started. “Never mind.”
“I heard the shift in his sleeve, the angle of movement, the proximity to where he’d placed the glass earlier.” Aureth took a delicate sip of tea, then smiled. “Also, he does it every time he loses. Riot’s been moving the glasses out of reach for three days now.”
Riot’s shoulders shook with silent laughter behind her.
“I hate all of you,” Calder muttered, but there was no heat in it.
It was that—the casual way she could read a room she couldn’t see, the way her presence somehow made everything feel less suffocating even when we were trapped inside with rain hammering against the windows, that had woven her into our strange little group without any of us quite noticing it happening.
Wickett paced near the doorway, his boots wearing a deeper path into the already worn floorboards. He’d been like this for three days, all coiled tension seeking a target, just a monument of frustrated energy.
“We should be at the docks,” he said for the hundredth time.
“The storms haven’t let up,” I replied with practiced patience, repeating the excuse I’d been feeding him since we returned from Tiberius’s office. “No ships coming or going. The dock workers are barely there themselves. Just skeleton crews checking the mooring lines and making sure nothing breaks loose in the wind. We’d stand out like blood on snow and learn absolutely nothing.”
It wasn’t entirely a lie. The storms had been brutal, autumn weather turning violent as if the world was angry. But mostly, we just needed time. Time for Calder’s plan to unfold. Time for everyone to be so on edge, waiting for their own deaths, that they would agree to let us leave on our own.
“Twenty-three days left,” Wickett said, as if we’d all forgotten. “Twenty-three days before the oath takes us, and we’re sitting here playing cards.”
“Would you like to join?” Pip offered brightly, holding up the deck. “I’ll teach you! It’s actually really fun once?—”
“No,” he cut her off, but then his voice gentled slightly. “Thank you.”
Lucy dealt another hand, her movements practiced and smooth. “Anyone else think the Rune Eat—uh, Heartless One might actually be terrible at cards?”
“I’m not terrible,” Calder protested. “The game is rigged.”
“How can cards be rigged?” Pip giggled, arranging her cards on the table.
The raven shifted on the windowsill, its head tilting at an angle that seemed just a little too interested in Calder’s cards.
“You know what?” Calder said slowly, his eyes narrowing on the bird. “That raven has been very attentive throughout this entire game.”
“Corvus enjoys watching,” Aureth said innocently. “He finds human games fascinating.”
