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I’m avoiding looking at the Hermit’s temple. As soon as I realize what I’m doing, I make myself lift my head and study the Moon’s banner. My banner. It’s beautiful in the same way the others are, an elegant image of a crescent Moon against the deep blue night sky, Their reflection shimmering in the river below.

Maybe I should feel victorious, but my insides are scooped out more thoroughly than hunger ever managed. There’s no space for anything; not regret, not joy, not even relief. I did what was necessary and I’ll continue to do so until the Trials are over … and beyond.

It is vitally important that the members of the Cinque know their place. Their existence is a necessary evil to be endured, not an invitation to return to the past we fully intend to leave behind.

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

VESPER AND I part ways, each heading to our respective temples. Stepping through the doorway and into the cool darkness fills me with relief. My shoulders sag and I weave on my feet. I made it. This time. Always this time. Never a guarantee for the future.

I gingerly touch my shoulder. My bodysuit is shredded where the Fool ripped into me. Beneath, my skin is raised in thick scars from his teeth. I move my shoulder and arm experimentally. I know I heard bones crack between his jaws, but all I feel is a dull pain. I’m so fucking tired, the kind of exhaustion that feels like it’s baked into every limb, every drop of blood, every inch of bone.

Sleep. After I get some proper rest, I’ll be able to think clearer. I stumble down the stairway, a familiar path by now, to the small room that’s become mine over the last couple of days. Mine and yet not mine. My discarded clothes from yesterday have disappeared, just like the ones from the day before. The bed is neatly made, a reset I hadn’t even noticed until now.

It takes twice as long as it should to strip out of the bodysuit, peeling it down over my body and stepping out of it. My shoulder blossoms into an angry ache from even this little movement. The rest of my skin … I shudder. I’m covered in bruises and, more important, the blood that soaked through the thin fabric is caked into my skin.

I can’t sleep like this.

I stagger across the hall and into the bathroom, not bothering to wait for the tub to fill. Sitting in the gore would only make things worse. Instead, I find a small bucket tucked beneath the sink and pour water over my head. Again and again and again; the swirl around the drain starts viciously red and then becomes pink and, finally, clear. Only then do I fill the tub and climb in to scrub my skin until it’s pink and angry and wash my hair twice. It still doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough.

I don’t know how I can be so numb and so panicked at the same time. The dual emotions should stand on opposite sides of a spectrum, unable to exist in the same space. I can’t stop shaking.

Two people died tonight because of my actions. Two fights that could have very well been the end of me. One I couldn’t avoid, but I didn’t have to attack the Hermit. She wasn’t after me—she was after Vesper. I could have turned away, saved my strength … but Vesper might have died.

I didn’t plan on allies, but I have them. I shudder. If that’s all it was, it would be easier to stomach, but the truth is that I wasn’t thinking of alliances in the moment when Vesper went down. I didn’t think of anything at all beyond stopping the Hermit and protecting them. It was pure instinct to avoid a future that didn’t contain Vesper in it. I like them. I enjoy the way their canny mind works. They might be a Sword, but we’re both outcasts in this group in our way. We understand each other. I rise from the tub and grab a towel with a shaking hand.

I killed.

Mara will be so disappointed in me. I press my fist to my mouth and close my eyes, waiting for the overwhelming pressure behind my eyes to pass. It always amused me to have two people in my life who loved me so thoroughly but wanted such wildly different things for me. Now, it feels like it might tear me apart.

Sleep. I just need the blessed darkness of unconsciousness. I stumble back across the hall to my bedroom to find my clothing has mysteriously disappeared, replaced by a clean shift.

Even though I very much do not want to, I force myself to examine my shoulder again. The scars are massive raised things in an angry red, surrounded by vicious bruises in a deep purple that edges into black. It will take ages for them to fade, charting the rainbow in the process. From the ache in my face, there’s a similar bruise on my jaw. I touch the spot gingerly. Sleeping on my left side is clearly the only option. But I’m whole, more or less, which is a damned miracle. If Cato hadn’t recovered when he did … If he hadn’t carried me all the way back from the Pentacles District …

I collapse on the bed, letting the soft mattress pull me in. My last thought before sleep comes is wondering why the Moon only took me to Their realm when I exhausted my powers, not my body. And then I think of nothing at all.

“Champion Moon, it’s time.”

My eyes flick open and I sit up instinctively. The moment I do, I wince, fully expecting a riot of pain as my body complains about the too-quick jerk. But there’s only a faint ache in my shoulder. I pull my shift aside to see the bruise has already faded to an ugly green beneath the raised scars. Days of healing in only a few hours. I wish I trusted it.

Priestess stands in the doorway with yet another piece of clothing draped over her arm. “The Wands will gather the champions in two strikes. You need to dress and eat something before that time.”

The Wands. I make a face. I knew their party was coming, but I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it too closely. I’ve spent my entire life doing everything in my power to avoid them, and now I have to make nice and act like they aren’t a system of terror in the Dregs. “Great.” I shake my head, trying to push past the sleep still clinging at my edges. “Wonderful. Looking forward to it.”

“You’ll have to learn to lie better if you want to flourish among the Minor Courts.” She holds out the clothing. “Let’s get you dressed.”

I take the long drape of fabric from her and shake it out. “You must be joking.” When she shrugs, I sigh. “I would love to know who’s making decisions about my clothing, because this is absurd.”

“The Moon provides.”

I highly doubt the Moon is the one picking out these ridiculous outfits, but I recognize a losing argument when I hear one. And I have bigger priorities in this moment than fighting over yet another too-revealing garment.

I had thought she would want to cover up my bruises and new scars, but apparently the opposite is true. Tonight’s piece is a deep blue dress with a tight, stretchy bodice that leaves my arms and shoulders bare, evolving into a frothy skirt that gives the impression of waves breaking on rocks. I allow her to lace me up and kick experimentally. At least I can move. I start to slip my two coins into the pockets in the harness, but she stops me with a hand on my arm. I glance over. “Is something wrong?”

“I haven’t seen one of these in a very long time.” She holds out a hand. “May I?”

Part of me very much does not want to divest myself of the coins. I can’t say they’ve made a difference in the events of the Trials, but Mara gave them to me. They feel like a little piece of home I’m carrying with me, and I’m loathe to let them leave my body. Priestess hasn’t given me reason not to trust her, though, so I pass over both.