Spirit says gently,
Watch his posture change.
Watch his eyes soften.
Watch his jaw loosen.
He wants to make amends, Stella.
Let go of your anger and listen.
“That hurts,” Pax says at last. “I suppose I understand where it’s coming from, but it still hurts.”
Pax reaches for my hand, but no. I jerk away. I cannot switch off this much anger like a light bulb.
He laces his fingers together and leans toward me. His eyes plead with mine.
“I have kept no secrets from you. Not a one. And I will notdo that. If we’re doing this, if we’re going after Blanck—”
His voice catches, and I soften. His pull is so very strong; we are two planets in space, orbiting each other,relianton each other to maintain our paths. The vastness of this image frightens me. It’s too massive, too dark and delicate. One wrong move and we both implode.
He must sense my fear, because he gently reaches forward, then stops, his hand inches from my face. He raises his eyebrows, a question:May I?But I shake my head no. I cannot bear to have him cup my face. He lowers his hand to his side.
“If we’re going after Blanck, there must be no secrets. None. Do you agree?”
No secrets.
It goes against my every instinct, my every defense mechanism. I want to run away, far and fast. Can I even live without secrets? Do I know how?
But the idea sounds so lovely. So freeing.
The clocks next door shave away the seconds,tick tick tick. My heart ticks alongside them.
Spirit shows me the image of a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower. Is that what it would feel like, to put my trust in someone? It is unfamiliar, this image. I am unsure how to interpret it.
“No secrets,” Pax repeats. His hand is balling into a fist and uncurling, over and over. I feel the hurt and anger radiating from that gesture.
I can’t believe I do this, but I reach forward, grab his hand. It’s smooth and strong. I squeeze once.
The sudden scent of vanilla—overly strong and sicklysweet—fills my nostrils, and in my mind’s eye, I picture oleander, beautiful and poisonous.
Do not trust.
Spirit, warning me. It breaks the spell.No trust. I almost fell. I know better.
I find my gravity, release his hand, and push him gently away.I cannot have what Daisy cannot have, I remind myself. And I will not live through the pain of losing someone else.
But I can agree to his request. I can get revenge. For Daisy.
“Okay.” I am terrified, saying this. “Okay. No secrets.”
Except, of course, for one.
THE EIGHT OF SWORDS
A MINOR ARCANA CARD, 8TH IN THE SUIT OF SWORDS
A woman is bound and blindfolded, held captive in a circle of eight swords.
