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I don’t know what I would do in their place. I went back for Vesper, but there was a clear path—and no time to think of alternatives.

Cato’s body shifts as he starts walking, and I hear Vesper’s distinctive tread just behind. They direct his path with soft words, guiding him to yet another door some distance away. The shadows of the buildings on either side of the road felt so familiar earlier tonight, but there’s little comfort in them now. They just make me colder.

“There should be a stairway up … here.” A click of a door that was clearly previously locked. “There we go.”

“How do you know all this?” Cato shuffles us sideways through the doorway so my feet don’t bang on the wall. “You’re a Sword. We might not be within the actual court itself, but Pentacles hardly hand out maps and diagrams of all their businesses to the Swords.”

“Knowledge is the greatest weapon in your arsenal.” The way Vesper says it, they’re repeating something that’s been drilled into them with a regular frequency.

“Uh-huh.” Cato doesn’t sound impressed. “Hold the door open for me.”

I feel the moment we step onto the roof. Coolness radiates through me, combating the warmth of Cato’s body. It should make me shiver, make me chilled, but it feels like I’ve always imagined slipping into a still pool of clean water would feel. It’s … lovely.

Daughter. The voice drifts through the back of my mind, so soft I think I imagine it at first. The same voice that warned me of the Fool’s attack. The same one I heard in the dream that wasn’t quite a dream. The Moon.

“Set her down here. I’m going to find something to brace against the door.”

Cato sighs. “This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.” He eases me down. Even though he seems to do his best not to jostle me, there’s no avoiding it. At least I manage not to scream this time. Barely.

He touches my shoulder. “I think the bleeding’s stopped at least.” He huffs out a breath. “I hope this fucking works.” He’s speaking so softly, it’s clear he’s not talking to me and doesn’t intend anyone else to hear. But I do.

I hope it works, too.

The soothing coolness steals through my body faster now that it’s not having to compete with the Sun’s heat. I barely notice it tugging my pain away from my grasping fingers, blurring the sensation radiating through my body until I can open my eyes properly for the first time since the Fool hit me in the face.

My jaw is still too tender to try to talk, so I focus on lying as still as possible and cataloging the changes as they sweep over me. The faint click of something sliding back into place should be agonizing, but I barely feel connected to my broken body right now. Once again, it’s a boon.

Vesper appears, breathless and glistening with sweat. They sink down on my other side and exhale slowly. “It’s working. Thank the gods.”

Thank the Moon, more like.

Again, that soft voice answers me, a caress in a place I can’t define.

You’re welcome.

Despite the history of the old gods preceding Caelria as we know it, there has been endless debate over whether they are responsible for the magic credited to them … or if it’s merely an expression of the primordial elements’ inherent magic.

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

CHAPTER TWENTY

EVEN WITH THE Moon’s light healing my injuries, I lose time. At some point, Cato and Vesper have a quiet, charged conversation and then I’m in his arms again. He’s so warm. With my pain blessedly distant, I tuck myself against him and simply breathe in his balmy summer scent. The good kind of summer, the one the Peridot sailors tell stories about.

I slip under again, only to be jarred back into my body at the sound of a scream, too close. I open my mouth, but Vesper’s hand is there, cutting off any sound I might make. They speak softly in my ear. “Quiet now, Kestrel. The Chariot is nearby. We can’t fight him tonight.”

Another scream, long and drawn out and full of pain and fear. It’s so close, I swear if I could turn my head, I might be able to see what the Chariot has done to draw that sound from someone’s throat.

But I can’t turn my head. I don’t seem to have control of my body at all. My limbs are too heavy, too filled with a coolness battling the blessed warmth from Cato’s arms and chest. It scares me. No matter what else is true, I’ve always had my body. I don’t know what I’ll do if I don’t retain full control of it.

I must tense, because Vesper’s grip tightens on the bottom of my face, harsh enough to make me whimper in pain. “You cannot scream.”

My pain spikes suddenly and then I’m swept under. This time, I embrace the darkness. Hopefully when I wake next, I’ll be back to normal.

There should be no way to detect the time passing while unconscious, but I open my eyes the moment the Sun crests the horizon, the Moon retreating as Their dance continues just like it has since the beginning of time.

We’re back in the Cups District, close to the champions’ island. I recognize the storefront Cato leans against, one we’ve passed several times before. I feel terrible, but terrible is a lot better than near dead. Cato looks terrible, too. His chest heaves and his arms shake behind my back and thighs. Sweat coats his skin, marring the patterns his priest drew on his body and giving him a general kind of shimmer. Quite a bit of it is on me, coating my bodysuit where he holds me.

“Put me down.” My voice is strained, but intelligible. My jaw is still sore, but clearly no lasting damage was done, thanks to the Moon’s accelerated healing.