He flips the card so it’s facing me. “The picture. It’s moving.”
Before I can respond, the flames in the lanterns shoot higher, and a hot gust of wind blasts through the tent. The flap tears open with a snap. Sand rushes in, stinging my cheeks and burning my eyes.
I dive for my purse, fumbling for the hair clip I know is buried in there somewhere. “Ow—shit—sand in my mouth—hold it shut!”
“Iamholding it shut!” Declan grits out, wrestling the silks.
I rush to help him, balling the fabric in my free hand as I struggle to clamp it shut with the other. Just as I fasten the hair clip into place, a sheet of parchment whips through the gap and smacks me square in the face.
Cursing, I peel it off, the paper warm, rough with grains of sand, and hand-painted in furious strokes of burnt orange and bloodred.
At its center is an unmistakable image. An image I know all too well.
A wheel.
Its spokes gleam a metallic gold. The same gold as the Wheel of Fortune. This wheel’s outer ring is charred on one side, and behind it is a faceless figure wrapped in robes of flame, arms outstretched.
Along the bottom, scrawled in a looping script with familiar curves and slants that pull at the edges of memory like an itch I can’t scratch:REMEMBER.
My throat tightens.
It’sher.
I am as real as you are.
It’s Fortune.
And now she’s painted on a flyer that literally slapped me in the face. This message is meant for me.
That strange knot forms in my chest, like fate is clawing its way out of my very soul.
“This is a sign from the universe,” I whisper, voice thin and breathless. “It has to be.”
I’ve said that before. Hundreds of times, probably. To the camera. To myself. Usually it’s just code for something good will happen if I want it badly enough. But this feels different.
With a sigh, Declan pinches the bridge of his nose. “We should take a moment to—”
“No, listen. This woman—” I shake the parchment in front of his face, the metallic paint catching firelight. “She was here the second we landed. She came to me. She knows something. She can tell us what’s going on.” I glance down at the flyer again, conviction sparking. “She’s probably my Wise Woman. I’ve read about them.And this place seems like they’d have Wise Women, right?”
Declan blinks like I’m speaking in tongues.
“My mentor,” I clarify.
“Oh.” His mouth curves. “Your Obi-Wan.”
I smile. “Declan Thorne, are you secretly a nerd?”
He doesn’t answer, but it doesn’t matter. AStar Warsnerd won’t get us home, but I know who can.
I rip off my makeshift tent closure and throw open the flap. Heat slaps me in the face, the air scorching as sunlight pours in. A white glare burns across my vision, turning the world into one overwhelming blaze.
I stumble forward, sand already searing the soles of my bare feet, and plow directly into something solid. Copper-threaded fabric. Immovable muscle.
The impact bounces me backward with a startled yelp. My heel catches on the threshold of our tent, and I nearly go down before a thick hand clamps around my arm, steadying me with far more force than necessary.
Dav looms above me, lips curled, brown eyes burning beneath the fringe of his sideswept hair. “Going somewhere?”
“I didn’t realize we were on house arrest,” I snap, yanking my arm from his hold as I glare up at him.
