Before they can finish, I lift a card from my deck. I anticipated their suspicion weeks ago when I asked Sorza to help bring them to me. I knew that they could find a way to doubt everything, save for one thing—one bit of irrefutable proof.
Their eyes widen as the silver ink of the Wheel of Fortune catches the light.
“Itisyou…” they whisper. “And you’re daring to reveal yourself to me? How can you trust me not to turn you in?”
“Will you?” I return the card to my deck. “So far, the Majors have been fairly aligned in a dislike for Naethor.”
“I wouldn’t gamble on that too much,” they murmur.
My interest is piqued. “And that means?”
“Maybe some of the older Majors, who know him better. But he’s already trying to whisper in the ears of those here, like Cael and Nidus.”
Good to know.But not my priority right now…“What about you? Has he succeeded in whispering inyourears?”
“Ignoring the fact that I think you’ll slay me if I try to turn you in…No, of course I’m not going to help that man. But why reveal yourself tome?”
“I need help, and it’s something only you can do.”
A frown tugs on their lips, as if they already know what I’m going to ask.
“I need the power of the Sun.”
“No, you don’t,” they say without missing a beat.
“I do,” I insist.
“Clara, that card is powerful—so powerful that once it is used, there is no going back for some. Its effects can be addictive.” There is the shadow of something horrible and terrifying in their eyes.
“I remember what you told me the first night I was in the Sanctum of the Majors.” I’m able to keep my voice calmer than I feel. “If therewas another path, I would take it. But I’ve exhausted all options. It’s a risk that must be taken.”
“This risk—”
“Is the only way I might ever see my sister again,” I interrupt, a little too firm at first, but far more gentle at the end. “She was kept in the lowest dungeon of Halazar for nearly two years. She was abused, endlessly, by Ravin and Glavstone. She is nothing more than a husk of herself. Her body has mended, but her mind…I can only imagine the turmoil that she lives in daily where numb silence is safer. But maybe, if it hurt less, she could return to her body from wherever she’s hidden away her soul. Maybe that would be enough to show her that it is safe for her to be here again.”
Thal’s stare drifts to a corner of the room. They shake their head, but it’s not a no. At least, it doesn’t feel that way. And that gut reaction is affirmed when they speak again.
“Removing pain…is a delicate thing,” Thal starts. “Once an individual has been liberated of it, even briefly, they are more likely to pursue the sensation. To have no burden on one’s shoulders can be euphoric. And that makes the return of life’s hurts even more challenging.”
“I don’t want to removeallburdens. Only enough—only the worst of it.”
“My card doesn’t discriminate. It removes pain.Allpain.”
I sigh and rest my hand on one of the desks to wrestle with what they’re saying and its implications. There are no good answers here and no clear way forward.
“I still think we owe it to her to try,” I say softly. “Otherwise I’m afraid she’s going to spend forever sitting there like a living doll. I can’t see another way to bring her back. I just need her to realize it’s safe. Just for a few minutes. I think that’s all she’ll need.”
There are cards that can temporarily alter the mind in specific ways. Cards that can mend the flesh. But there is only one card I have ever known of that can remove pain completely, even from the mind.
And we both know it.
It’s Thal’s card or nothing.
“Please,” I say when the silence has dragged on to the point that I think they’re about to walk away from this whole exchange. I see my hope for my sister growing dimmer like sunlight fading on the horizon. “Just once.”
“Very well,” they finally say. Two words restore my hope. But something in the relief that spreads across my face makes their expression grow even warier. “But I will be the one to administer it. I will not give my card to you or anyone else.”
“Agreed.”
