“Yeah, it’s perfect,” she says, her cheeks flushed pink with excitement, eyes dancing with this new analogy. But then her expression shifts, her brows drawing together as if she’s working something out. “Actually… it’s more than perfect.”
“How do you mean?”
“Think about it. Divinity Cards. The Tower of Power.”
I nearly guffaw—because she’s right. Divinity Cards is both a child’s game and a serious competitive card game back home. A deck of fifty-two playing cards numbered one through ten, plus face cards, and divided into four suits—Spark, Crest, Lore, and Devotion—plus four Divinity Cards with special powers.
Spark represents divine energy, the strongest of all forces. Crest symbolizes leadership, nobility, and dominion over others. Lore is knowledge, history, and the secrets hidden between the lines. Devotion is faith, obedience, and the power that comes from surrender.
Every player starts with just one card. Then, as the game progresses, they collect more, each one bringing them closer tothe goal—building a ten-story tower in sequence. Some cards are drawn from the deck, others are traded, and the rest are stolen through the game’s trump cycle. Spark trumps all. Crest follows, then Lore, and Devotion always loses—unless it’s paired with a Divinity Card.
Those four cards are the real game-changers. God’s Wrath strikes down an opponent’s tower. The Chosen One guarantees victory in a challenge. Master’s Bargain forces a trade, whether the opponent likes it or not. And Sweep cancels a special ability before it can take effect.
Jasina looks at me with something like revelation. “It’s just like us. Just like this.”
“How so?”
“Because just like in Divinity Cards, we started with nothing—just one card, one choice—but if we play right, we’ll build something powerful enough to take the whole damn tower down.”
She’s right. It kind of perfectly sums it up. “Is this the game they’re playing?”
Jasina laughs. “Building a god’s tower?” Then she shrugs. “Would you be surprised at all, if stupid things like card games were really snippets of truth back in our Tau City?”
“No,” I say, sighing heavily and rubbing my hands down my face. “Nothing surprises me at this point. The lies, though. The…intentto lie. It’s so…”
“Insidious?”
I nod. “Yeah. It’s gross—disgusting. It makes me sick to think about a whole society based on lies, Jasina.”
Her excitement dims. “Do you think Xi is lying?”
“I mean…”
She laughs. “Yeah. So… we should be careful.”
“We should. But?—”
“I already know, I already know.” She waves a hand through the air. “Youwantto be augmented.”
“Are you OK with that? Because… I dunno, Jasina. If we’re playing cards, augmentation feels a whole lot like Master’s Bargain leveled up to a hundred if you ask me.”
“And youarethe Master, so…”
“I am. I hadn’t ever put that together, actually. Master’s Bargain.” I squint my eyes, trying to force it to make sense. Because I feel like it does—like there’s something more to know, but I can’t quite grasp the bigger picture.
Jasina continues, “Obviously, I cannot make this decision for you, Finn. It’s abigthing. But I will support you, no matter what.”
This isn’t the moment I fall in love with her. Not for the first time, anyway. But it is the moment when I know, for sure, that she and I are solid.
We are so much more than a couple—we’re ateam.
The physical distance between us is small, but I close it in two steps, taking her face in my hands. “I’m doing it for me, I want you to know that because I think it’s important that you understand that this choice is forme, first. I’m in charge of it. I take full responsibility for it. And it’s an easy choice because I want to give you everything and if this guy—this Tyse guy—if he’s coming after us, I need to take care of it before we can move on. And that’s got nothing to do with you. It wasmymistake. It was my choice to send Clara into that tower.Mine. And even now, knowing what I know about how the world works, I’d do it again to save the rest of the city.”
Jasina lets out a breath. “Did she not mean much to you?”
This question makes me chuckle, even though there’s nothing funny about it. “No.”
“Finn—”
