“At first, I thought Mother was a target because of her work getting out Arcanists. Finding out she was a Worldkeeper—thelast remainingWorldkeeper from the past world and the only one who knew how to induct more Worldkeepers, but also how to ink the vessel—only seemed to further that theory. But it was never about any of that…It was a jilted lover. Nothing more. It wasn’t some sweeping plot from the king himself. She died because of Helena’s jealousy.” Somehow, I’m so cold, I shiver even though my blood is boiling. It’s as though my body can no longer sustain its rage and is shutting down.
Arina holds my hand like a lifeline. Finally, she says, “What are you going to do about it?”
“It changes nothing.” I decide then and there. “Her motivation doesn’t change anything. I will kill High Lady Helena Ventall and avenge Mother’s death.”
“Good.” Arina nods approvingly. Our eyes lock. The one thing we swore was revenge for Mother. It was our one guiding principle, the one thing we always knew would be true, no matter what.
“And as for our father…” I trail off. “I don’t know what he did to her.” I can barely say the words.
“Mother was strong; she wouldn’t have let a man take advantage of her,” Arina reassures me, but I can’t tell if it’s nothing more than wishful thinking because the alternative is too much to bear.
“Arina…He was tasked by Naethor to hunt and kill her. In what world would she turn around and willingly fall into bed with a man who was her sworn enemy?” I shouldn’t argue with her, but something tells me that letting her continue her delusions would be worse.
“If he wanted her dead, he clearly had his opportunity,” she counters.
“Unless he got more delight from conquering her in other ways.” The hand not holding hers balls into a fist so tight that I know there will be crescent bruises on my palm. “Some people are twisted like that.”
We’re interrupted by Vaduin entering. Arina releases me and picks up her brush as if nothing happened. I shift, trying to follow her lead, even if I’m still reeling mentally and emotionally.
“It is good to see you out of bed,” he says to Arina.
She nods. “It is good to be out of bed.”
“And inking, too. Are you close to making your card?” He does nothing to hide his eagerness.
“I am practicing. Thal seems to think I’m making swift progress. Perhaps it is my intuition as the Star,” she replies.
I give Vaduin a firm look to try to dissuade him from pushing further, but he only turns to me instead.
“And how close are you to having enough powder to attempt inking a second vessel?” he asks.
“I already do,” I say dully.
“Exceptional, then we will be ready to move as soon as you’re ready,” he says to Arina. “Have either of you seen Xora?”
“She went to get food a little bit ago,” Arina says.
Vaduin nods and departs as swiftly as he came. The door shuts behind him with a firm click, and the room is so quiet that even the crackling of the fire seems loud. I look back to find Arina’s eyes waiting for mine, an expectant stare.
When I say nothing, she sighs softly and states, “After everything, after all you’ve sacrificed…you’re not eager to cast the World.”
I sigh heavily. “It’s not that I’m ‘not eager,’ it’s just…”
“Uneasy, then.” She resumes work on the card before her. “We’re one step closer to getting the World—to having all the power, to making everything we ever whispered and dreamed about come true. But you’re not relieved or excited in the slightest.”
Of course she can read me as well as the cards. I admit, to her and her alone, and even then with some reluctance, “It means I’m going to have to make a choice.” One that every time I think it becomes clearer, it gets murky again.
Arina’s eyes dart up from the card she’s working on. The design looks nearly perfect. She’s right; her intuition always made her a good inker. “What choice?”
“Do I follow Kaelis’s vision for the world? Do I follow the Worldkeepers’? Do I wish for what you and I would’ve always wanted? Or…something between all of them? Do I even know whatIwantanymore?” The uncertainty has me shifting in my seat. I’m uncomfortable in my own skin. Never have I felt so indecisive.
“You don’t trust him?” She tilts her head.
“That’s the crazy part, I do,” I murmur. “But the Worldkeepers were Mother’s lineage and legacy. They were her mission and goals. I should make the wish exactly as they tell me to.”
“But you trust him more than them.” It’s not a question, and the fact that she doesn’t even need to ask has a flush rising up the back of my neck.
“Why don’t we consult the cards?” she suggests.
