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He raises his brows, but surprisingly he listens to them. We pass the rest of the ride in silence. A small blessing, because I don’t think I’m capable of speaking coherently. I certainly have no interest in small talk. It doesn’t occur to me to wonder where we’re heading until the carriages slow and stop once more.

The Queen of Swords doesn’t immediately open the door. Her gaze is almost kind as she says, “Earlier, I said the Swords owe you a boon, Champion Moon. It seems we owe you twice over now. You have our gratitude for taking care of our page.” Her eyes warm. “Our child.”

I blink slowly. “I don’t want your boon.”

“And yet you have it all the same,” the king says easily. He pats the queen’s knee. “Let’s give them a moment.”

They exit and close the door softly behind them. Suddenly, the silence is wrong. The thick feeling in my throat grows, blocking out my ability to breathe. Vesper doesn’t touch me, doesn’t make any move to prevent my exit. “I’m sorry.”

Shock allows me a ragged inhale. “Why are you sorry?”

“I misplayed things.” They still aren’t looking at me, staring doggedly at the empty bench across from us. “I didn’t realize the depths of Cato’s desperation, or that the Star would expedite things or, fuck, that the High Priestess would double-cross the Star. I knew Death had history with my court, so I should have anticipated him wanting to remove me. If you weren’t running to save me again…” They close their eyes and clench their fists. “I won’t pretend to understand whatever you’re feeling, Kestrel. I won’t cheapen it like that. But I shoulder a portion of the blame, and I’m sorry for my part in it.”

I rub at my chest, as if I can dig through the skin and bone and extract the barbed thing inside me. “I made my own choices.”

“We all did. I’m still sorry.” They take a deep breath. “There will be a short ceremony when we leave the carriages. After that, we’ll be allowed back to our temples. There will be a large celebration in the coming days, something similar to the Pentacles and Cups parties, but with both the Minor Court and the guilds. They’ll expect you to bargain with at least some of the Concilium to carve out your own territory—or claim the territory of one of the fallen Cinque.”

I stare at them. “Why are you telling me this?”

They still won’t look at me, their profile determined and filled with emotions I have no name for. “Because you’re about to enter a new set of trials; ones that don’t have hard rules and won’t be enacted exclusively with violence—mostly. My parents have offered you two boons, and they’re as good as their word. It won’t save you from their machinations, but it will offer a reprieve. The rest of the Minor Court and the guild masters won’t do the same. They’ll be looking for weaknesses to exploit. If they can’t do it with bribery and flattery, they’ll go around you to find those you care about to use as leverage against you.”

I hold my breath as their words roll through me, and then let out a bitter laugh. Of course it’s not finished. I was naive in the extreme to think the end of the Trials would be the end of my pain. I chose this without knowing the full extent of the cost, but I have no one to blame but myself. “You think they’ll go after my family?”

Vesper gives a jerky nod. “I think it’s possible. They would have already done it if they could find them. That’s why the Wands brought in Mara instead of someone closer to you.”

Mara was close to me. But Vesper has a point, no matter how little I like it. It’s something I’ll worry about navigating tomorrow. Right now, I can’t think clearly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Vesper nods again. “No matter what else is true, I’m here for you, Kestrel. You’ve saved my life three times now. We’re about to enter my arena. All my knowledge and skills are yours.”

My lips curve in a smile, and I don’t need to see their face to know it’s a horrible expression. “At least until I do something that doesn’t align with your interests and goals.”

Vesper flinches. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not false, either.”

They sigh. “No, it’s not false, either. But I’ll give you the courtesy of a warning if our paths ever diverge.”

I don’t believe that any more than I believe the King and Queen of Swords will look out for me. I reach past Vesper and open the door. “Let’s not keep the honored Minor Court waiting.”

Once the Trials end, the Minor Court should focus on things returning to normal as quickly as possible. Some small leniency should be allowed for celebrating the champions, but the Wands should discourage anything resembling worship.

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

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE CEREMONY IS blessedly brief. Each surviving champion is anointed in their god’s name. We’re told to repeat a vow to protect Caelria and uphold order, each line fed to us like poison. Uphold order. What a joke. The only thing they want upheld is their power. I knew that going in, but somewhere along the way, things got blurred. I let people in, even though I knew better. All I got for my efforts were betrayal and pain.

The only positive thing about the whole charade is that it’s done in the champions’ courtyard. I’m only a short walk from the Moon’s temple. It takes everything I have not to break away from the meaningless conversation around me and bolt through the door to blessed solitude. Maybe I’ll be able to think clearly if I can get enough time and space. Maybe.

I actually breathe a sigh of relief when the Sun crests the wall. The Queen of Pentacles raises her voice to be heard over the low murmur of conversation. “Let’s allow our champions some much-needed rest.” She beams at each of us in turn. “The entire Minor Court will gather in a week’s time to celebrate our new Cinque.”

A week. It seems like entirely too much time, but what do I know? Nothing, apparently.

“Kestrel.”

I stiffen. It seems I can’t escape Death in any form tonight. “What?”

He stops next to me, not quite close enough for his shoulder to brush mine. “I owe you a conversation.”