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He slumps against me. “Thanks, Moon. Wheel.” His eyes flutter shut.

It’s Vesper who eases us down against the wall of one of the greenhouses, sinking to sit before us, their hands clasped around each of our wrists. “Death missed.” I try to swallow, but my throat is horrifically dry. “You?”

“No. I couldn’t wrangle my luck in time. That was him.” They stare intently into the night, but I don’t know what they’re looking at. I can’t see the street from this angle; surely neither can they.

“What?” My brain feels strangely liquid, sloshing about in my skull. “But why?”

“It doesn’t matter right now. We did it.” They grin at me. It’s not their tight and constrained smile, but one born of a relief so vast it turns their attractiveness into something else altogether. They have a fucking dimple.

I suddenly can’t speak; my tongue is too thick in my mouth. At this point, I’m not sure if Cato is slumped against me or if I am against him. Maybe both.

Vesper squeezes my hand. “Rest, Kestrel. We’re safe enough for the time being.” They’re still speaking so softly, the words barely reach me for all that we’re only inches away. “I’ll watch out for you.”

Fool that I am, I actually close my eyes. Darkness takes me between one breath and the next.

The priests of the old gods maintain that their faith in the unseen sets them above all, but this author disagrees. Faith is just another word for superstition. I can breathe air, drink water, set my feet upon the earth, use fire to cook my meals and warm my home in the winter. If the old gods exist in the way their faithful believe, where are they?

—EXCERPT FROM THE MAJOR ARCANA: A TREATISE ON THE HISTORY OF THE OLD GODS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MY CHAMPION. MY avatar. My daughter.

My entire body aches as if I’ve fallen from the highest rooftop in the Dregs, dozens upon dozens of feet in the air. Maybe that’s exactly what happened after meeting Mara. Maybe I fell, tumbling through the night, to the unforgiving embrace of the road below. Maybe even now, I’m back in the apartment, Mara fretting over me and arguing with Mouse about the best course of action. Maybe …

Wake, child.

I open my eyes slowly. Even that small movement hurts enough to tempt me back into unconsciousness. A cool hand presses to my forehead, the skin shifting in a way that’s distinctively inhuman. I bolt upright and look around wildly. Gone are the rooftop and the night sky overhead and the greenhouse at my back. I’m in a strange space that feels both vast and finite in a way I don’t fully understand. The light is odd here, too, bright and dark and mutable at the same time.

I’m not alone.

A person stands before me. Except that’s not entirely accurate. They look like a person, but there’s something … off. Their skin is too smooth, Their features too even, Their long dark hair moving in a breeze I don’t feel. More than that, Their light brown skin seems almost luminescent, as if it contains a light all its own. I gingerly touch my forehead. My skin feels normal, if a little warm. “You touched me.”

They smile. You’re doing well. Despite the words clearly coming from Them, Their mouth doesn’t move as They speak.

I blink. The voice is familiar; it’s the same one I heard in the temple. Up until this point, I thought for certain I’d imagined it. It was the only logical option … but nothing about this moment right now is logical. One of the coins Mara gave me heats pointedly in the pocket of my harness, whether in warning or welcome, I can’t begin to guess. “Who are you?”

You know the answer to that question.

I study Them again. “I’m dreaming.”

Yes and no.

Gods, They talk like Mouse does sometimes. I lift a careful hand to my temple. I need to think but it’s difficult with the pounding in my skull. Maybe this is all some strange dream while my body lies helpless and unconscious with only Vesper to watch over it. But if it’s not … “You want me to believe you’re the Moon Themself.”

I am the Moon. The light coming from somewhere inside Their body brightens substantially. You’re in my realm. You’re safe.

“I’m not safe.”

They smile faintly. Perhaps not entirely, but you won’t be harmed in this moment.

This may very well be a lie, generated by myself or even one of the other champions. There’s no way to know for sure. The Major Arcana might be our gods, but they aren’t present. Even in the Trials, the only evidence of them is the powers with which they imbue their champions. For this being to claim to be one of them—for the Moon Themself to be here and talking to me …

There has to some way to prove who They really are. Questions bubble up, tumbling over each other in their effort to breach my lips. I want to ask Them for all the mysteries of the universe. I want to know why They left us to fend for ourselves against the Minor Court. I want an explanation on why They allowed my mother to die. But voicing any of those is giving Them too much power. If this is a trap set by another champion, I have to know. “Tell me something only the real Moon would know.”

Their expression flickers into something almost like sorrow. My last champion was proud and strong and loyal. She was also your mother.

My body goes hot and then cold. Precious few people know my relation to the last Moon, fewer even among the champions. While it’s possible Death shared the information, I don’t think so. His powers may be vast, but they’re confined to the realm of the physical. If he could invade dreams, my mother would have known about it as his ally, and she would have told Mouse. Which means … “You’re really the Moon.”