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This feels like something closer to the wilds. I know that’s a fallacy, but as I walk along the neatly paved path with greenery on either side, it’s almost possible to forget that I’m within a walled city—or that the wilds could never be this peaceful. The sheer abundance of food, sitting here where anyone can grab it, makes my chest hurt.

But not just food. There are so many trees with no fruit to speak of and flowers littering the ground on either side of the path. Inedible flowers. I bend down and brush my fingers over the bright yellow petals of the nearest one. They have so much in the Minor Court, they can afford to waste precious land, water, and Sun. The abundance staggers me.

I shake my head hard, forcing myself to focus. There’s plenty of space to hide in the gardens, but it would be foolish to assume I’m the only one who gained enhanced vision in the night. I know for a fact Death has superior senses, though my mother never specified their limits. I’m not sure she knew. She and Mouse also theorized that the Magician and the High Priestess had magically amplified sight. And the Empress is attuned to growing things, so sitting in a garden is the equivalent of surrounding myself with weapons made just for them.

Except I can’t take any of my mother’s and Mouse’s information as fact—at least not about the new champions. I didn’t gain the same powers my mother did from the Moon, which opens up the possibility of dealing with a whole host of magical opponents who I know nothing about. I’m not even sure I can afford to assume the Cinque maintained their same powers at this point. Maybe they made new bargains and gained new and unfamiliar magic.

The sickles are a cold weight against my back. I have a bone-deep assurance I’ll know how to use them when the time comes, but I need some space to figure out my next steps. My entire plan is now in jeopardy and I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.

A scream curdles the night ahead of me, stretching far too long, far too desperate. It makes my skin prickle and panic flutter at the back of my throat. It’s so close. Close enough that whoever caused the scream could come for me next.

No. To panic is to die. I haven’t survived this long to be cut down by some rich fuckers with illusions of grandeur. Maybe I don’t have the same magic I’d expected, but I’m not defenseless. I’ve survived this long on wits alone. I refuse to die tonight.

I glance over my shoulder. Are the shadows darker than they were before? I can’t be sure. My skin prickles. I can’t shake the feeling I’m being hunted, but I can’t begin to say if it’s panic lying to me or some deeper instinct bleating the truth. I need to think.

On instinct, I pick up my pace, cutting through the garden and toward the buildings I can now make out on the other side of it. The windows are all dark, and from the varying wares visible inside, these are yet more shops. At least their architecture is varied enough that I should be able to climb to the rooftop.

I jump, lodging my foot in the windowsill and pushing upward. My fingers scramble painfully against the brick, but I catch a minuscule ledge and haul myself up and up again until I can latch on to the edge of the roof and roll to safety.

I lie there panting, hating the fear turning my lungs to lead and my brain to fuzz. Overhead, a tiny sliver of the Moon hangs at a jaunty angle. I could swear They’re laughing at me. Fuck the gods. Fuck the Moon, in particular. I offered Them everything and They gave me precious little in return. They clearly didn’t want to buy what I was selling, and if that’s not so consistent with how the rest of the city treats the Dregs, I don’t know what is. Guess my life isn’t worth that much, my soul even less.

So far, the only evidence of magic I have is being able to see better in the dark. My mother had her moonbeams and could essentially turn invisible during the night. I concentrate the way Mouse taught me and hold up my hand, waiting … and it’s just my hand, as solid and visible as it’s ever been. I sigh, climb to my feet, and look around.

Instinctively, my gaze goes to the wall. I can barely see it, a too-dark section blotting out the stars around the edge of the city. It’s been impossible to escape the sheer size of it while living in its shadow, but somehow seeing it at this distance is even more disconcerting. I knew it wasn’t a uniform creation around the city, but the jagged sections spearing into the sky almost look like they’re the ribs of some gargantuan creature. I shudder. Trust the gods to create something to protect this city but do it in the most disturbing way possible.

I make myself turn around and examine the buildings around me. These roofs aren’t empty. I expected that after seeing the water towers in the Wands District—in a walled city, every inch counts and should be utilized—but I’m not prepared for the glass rooms lined out in orderly fashion on the roof where I crouch. I move to the closest one and cup my hands around my eyes in an effort to see more clearly. More greenery. More plants. More food.

I jerk back and look around. The garden I just walked through felt extravagant and wasteful, but there’s more? Even knowing I need to move, I can’t stop myself from circling the room until I find a door—an unlocked door, because of course—and step inside.

Heavy warmth instantly coats my skin. Outside, the night has started to cool off to a pleasurable temperature, but in here it’s significantly hotter. I drag my hand through the space in front of me, half certain I can cut through the dampness in the air.

Everything is laid out in neat little rows and shelves, so many green things that I can taste them on my tongue. And this is just one of these little houses. There are three on this roof alone, and now that I know what I’m looking at, I understand why the rooftops looked so strange. Everyone has them. It boggles my mind.

A second scream sounds, so close that I instinctively duck down and put my arms over my head. Even though I know I should keep running and hiding until sunrise makes it safe to return, I need information. If every bit of strategy my mother passed onto Mouse and he then imprinted on me is based on out-of-date information, I need to know. I’ll have to alter my plans. I don’t know how I’m going to alter them, but that’s a problem for the morning. The fact the Cups District—all the Minor Court districts, apparently—has more food than they could ever eat while me and mine go hungry every single damn day is a truth to be angry about when I can actually do something about it as a member of the Cinque. Until then, I need to survive.

I ease out the door, grateful for the oiled hinges, and move cautiously in the direction of the scream. The rough rooftop beneath my feet makes no sound despite all evidence that it should—a gift from the Moon, no doubt. That, at least, is helpful. I press myself to the greenhouse closest to the edge of the roof and settle down to watch the fight playing out on the street below.

There is a body on the ground, blood gleaming wetly in the pale light of the Moon. I frown at it, trying to figure out which champion has fallen, but that mystery will have to be solved later. There are five champions facing off. I instantly recognize Death and Judgment, but they don’t appear to be part of the same alliance. Instead, the Lovers and the Empress stand at Judgment’s shoulder. Next to Death is the Tower. He’s a tall man with short dark hair, a powerful figure, and moon-pale skin. Are they in an alliance? The possibility leaves me cold. During the last Trials, the Tower was the final one to fall, and it took all five of the surviving champions to bring her down.

Judgment spreads his arms and smiles slowly. “I’ve been waiting to kill you for a long time, Death. Your guilt will be an absolute feast.”

“You’ll have to wait a bit longer to taste it.” Death hasn’t even drawn his sword. He looks to the Tower. “You want an alliance with me? Kill them.”

So, not an alliance yet, but a trial for one. I suppose that’s one way to eliminate opponents. Either the Tower kills all three of them or manages to pick off one or two before Judgment cuts him down … all resulting in fewer champions left standing by the time the Sun rises. Death is powerful enough to kill the others if the Tower falls. He comes out on top regardless of the outcome of this fight.

Judgment jerks his chin at the Empress and the Lovers. “As we discussed. Together.”

The two women could almost be sisters. They’re both pale and tall, long brown hair pulled back in nearly identical braids. The only difference between them is what they wear—the Lovers is clothed in Swords colors, a deep crimson dress with slits up to her hips, revealing tight white pants beneath. The Empress, on the other hand, leans toward Pentacles. She wears a green tunic with impractically long sleeves and brown pants tucked into serviceable boots. Neither wears any metal at all, so if they’re a member of the respective courts, they’re low-ranking ones.

The clothing provided to me very distinctly honors the Moon. Why were they given the option of nodding to their respective Minor Courts? I knew there would be alliances of that nature—the Star’s partnership with the Cups is well-known—but I didn’t expect to see it so blatantly displayed in other champions. If they survive tonight, will the courts they’re allied with slip them some advantage? I would have thought it was against the rules, but clearly I don’t know everything there is to know about the Trials. Another problem to be dealt with should I survive the night. I’ll add it to the rapidly growing list.

The Lovers and the Empress fan out as much as the street allows, clearly intending to flank the Tower. For his part, he draws his sword. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t rush in to finish the fight as quickly as possible. He simply … waits.

The Lovers presses her lips together in concentration. A deep red begins radiating from her body. At first, it’s subtle enough that I’m half certain I’m seeing things, but within seconds, it’s clear this is her magic at work. I don’t know what the last Lovers’ magic was; they were eliminated the first night, so my mother never saw them fight. This looks similar to the magic Judgment summoned during the Culling, though, so maybe it’s a mental weapon rather than a physical one.

The Tower turns to her as the same deep red appears around his body. He holds his sword in a defensive position designed to protect his body and takes a step toward the Lovers, his expression locked down.

For her part, she appears horrified. She presses a hand to her chest. “How … how can you live like this? It hurts so much.” I can see her shaking even from here. “You…” She clears her throat even as tears slide down her pretty face. “You don’t have to hold this. Let me give you peace.”