Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
THE PROPHET
Be wary the gray,
Be wary the sight.
Be wary of visions that come in the night.
You’ll lose all your power.
You’ll weep, plea, and cower.
Be wary of visions that come in the night.
I waited outside the cellar on the stone steps with my head in my hands. It had been only an hour since I’d met the council, but the hour had felt like a lifetime. Above me, I heard the gong strike eleven. The feast was over—the celebration had moved outside for dancing and wine.
Inside the cellar, they discussed my fate.
I spun my charm between my fingers. Behind the cellar door, I could discern Lady Yew’s tone from the others. Someone coughed. I rubbed my eyes. Why didn’t you tell me?
Tell you what?
That the Scythe doesn’t work on you.
A vile scraping sound echoed through my mind. The Nightmare was picking at his teeth. None of them work on me, dear one.
I gaped. Something you casually forgot to mention? For ELEVEN years?
But I have mentioned it, my clueless little companion. His claws grated against his teeth. I cannot, however, be held responsible for your feeble comprehension.
I wanted to reach into the darkness and smack him across his monstrous face. You really know how to make a girl feel special.
He laughed. You’ll understand soon enough. The truth always outs.
Had I not been bone-tired, I might have argued—pressed him for more—hungry for the secrets he guarded like a greedy dragon. There was still so much I did not know about him.
But he had chosen his moment well—dropped a breadcrumb at the top of a mountain. If I wanted to know more, I would have to work for it.
And I was far too tired for that.
Laughter from Equinox rolled down the stairs. I yawned, my eyelids drooping as I frowned at the cellar door. What’s taking them so long?
The Nightmare’s tail made a whooshing sound. Find out.
How am I supposed to do that?
Best stick to the old ways.
Which are?
Pressing a bloody ear to the door, I should think.
The wood was thick, their voices difficult to distinguish. I slipped to the door, praying the dogs on the other side would not betray me. I held my breath and cupped my ear, sliding it against the crease between the wood and stone framework.
“The Hawthorns will need a reason to let her go to Castle Yew,” someone said. “As will Erik.”
“I don’t trust her,” another voice said. Elm. “Her manners are too practiced, her words too careful.”
“Of course they are,” Jespyr said. “She wouldn’t have evaded Destriers and Physicians this long if she wasn’t cautious.”
“She’s supposed to be here,” another voice said. Filick. “Morette saw it. Elspeth is going to help us find the Deck. What’s there to argue about?”
“Aunt Morette saw a shadowy figure on the forest road,” Elm countered. “Forgive me, Aunt, I do not doubt you or your Prophet Card. But your description was vague. Ravyn and I could have stumbled upon anyone that night.”
Fenir spoke. “Yet you happened to find a woman with the ability to see Cards when we’ve only three left to claim?”
“The Prophet showed me a hooded figure with a shadow,” Morette Yew’s voice called above the clamor, stern and sure.
“The shadow remained, even when the light faded. The figure walked to the wood, and behind it trailed Providence Cards, one by one—followed by a thirteenth I have never seen before. Behind the figure I saw my Emory, alive and well. That was what I saw. That was why I bade you watch the forest road.”
They were silent for several moments. My heart hammered in my chest, the small piece of the puzzle slow to place itself into an image I could not yet comprehend.
They’d been waiting for me on the forest road, Ravyn and Elm, though they had not yet known it. And I—I was embedded in a prophecy of magnitude so great it had led me to the Yews, one of Blunder’s oldest families… and into the depths of treason.
I bit my lip and pressed my ear tighter to the door, praying for more.
Fenir broke the silence. “There’s no direction to move but forward,” he said. “We’ll bring Elspeth into our household and learn more about her magic. When we move to find the Cards, she will accompany us to retrieve them.”
Someone scoffed. Elm. “We don’t have time to play guardian to a timid girl.”
“Timid?” Jespyr chuckled. “That’s not what you said when you came limping back from the forest road.”
Ravyn’s voice cut through the room. “Whatever she is, it isn’t timid. We’d be fools to underestimate her.”
“Spindle House is close by,” Filick said. “Why not put her with her own family?”
“No,” Ravyn said, hasty.
“If she’s going to be privy to our plans, she needs to be kept close to us,” Fenir said. “We can’t have the Spindles or anyone else delving into our business.”
“Which again raises the question—what are we going to tell her family? They’ll need a reason to send her our way.”
A strained silence followed. It was hard, keeping my breath quiet. Harder still to be kept out of the room like a petulant child while they discussed my fate.
“I’ve got an idea,” Jespyr said, her voice slow, gentle, as if to soothe an angry animal. “But you’re not going to like it.”
“Because everything up until this point has been so enjoyable.”
“I didn’t mean you , Elm,” Jespyr said. “I meant Ravyn.”
I pressed so hard against the gap in the door my head began to ache.
Ravyn’s voice was a growl. “What, Jes?”
“Just don’t say no right away.”
“Jespyr.”
She paused. “What if we tell Erik Spindle and the Hawthorns that we’ve invited Elspeth to stay at Castle Yew… so that you might court her?”
I skipped a breath, my fatigue suddenly gone. I felt wide awake, my pulse quickening, an unwelcome flush sliding across my neck and into my face.
Behind the door, Elm barked a laugh.
But there was no laughter in Ravyn’s voice. “No. Absolutely not.”
“It’s a good idea! You’ve already been seen together today—no one will suspect the real reason we’ve asked her to stay with us at Castle Yew.
” To the biting silence that followed, Jespyr heaved a sigh.
“You don’t actually have to woo her, merely give the impression of wooing her.
Just, I don’t know, smile at her once in a while. You remember how to smile, don’t you?”
They all began to speak at once, their voices a chaotic buzz. “We needn’t elaborate much,” Fenir said. “There will be gossip, of course. Ravyn’s never taken time to properly court anyone before.”
“Trees,” Ravyn muttered, his voice dripping irritation.
There was excitement in Morette’s voice. “It could work. If anyone asks, I can tell them I invited Miss Spindle on Ravyn’s behalf,” Morette said. Her tone turned scolding. “He needn’t pretend to initiate the courtship if the prospect is so loathsome to him.”
“I suppose I don’t have much of a say in this,” Ravyn said on a harsh exhale.
“No,” Jespyr said, sounding far too delighted. “None whatsoever.”
Fenir cleared his throat. “What exactly do you object to, Ravyn? She’s clever, striking.”
I wondered the same thing. The Captain’s adamant refusal to court me—not even court me, pretend to court me—felt like a dozen wasp stings, leaving me wounded, hot with anger.
“Make no mistake, she’s beautiful. Only, I—” Ravyn’s voice cut out. Then, as if the words were bitter in his mouth, “If the ruse will help…” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll try. Though I doubt I’ll play a convincing suitor.”
I huffed hot air out my nostrils. “Don’t do me any favors,” I said into the din. As if I would ever deign to court someone like him. I had enough struggles of my own without adding the chore of coaxing a smile out of Ravyn Yew to my list.
Somewhere in the darkness, a wicked purr echoed. What’s the old adage, my dear? Something about ladies and protesting far too much?
I hissed him into silence. But just as I was convincing myself that playing at courtship with Ravyn Yew was the last thing in the world I wanted, they’d come to the opposite conclusion on the other side of the door.
“Then it is settled,” Morette called firmly. “She’ll remain at Castle Yew under the assumption of an arranged courtship with Ravyn. I’ll ask her father and the Hawthorns tonight. They won’t deny her an extended stay if I assure them I will be there to chaperone.”
There was a rustling, a noise of agreement. “We should bring her there tonight.”
Elm’s snicker was becoming easy to recognize. “Shouldn’t the Captain be seen at the celebration with his new leading lady?”
I couldn’t make out Ravyn’s reply. But it sounded undeniably threatening.
“Let’s take an hour to show our faces at Equinox,” Fenir said. “Then we’ll return to Castle Yew.” A pause. “Care to fill her in, Ravyn?”
Footsteps shuffled.
“Don’t forget to smile!” Jespyr called as the handle turned.
I jerked away from the door, unsteady on my heels. I fell backward with a thud. When Ravyn Yew opened the cellar door, I looked up at him from a heap on the floor, cheeks red, guilty as sin.
He perked a brow, glaring down at me. “Didn’t your aunt ever tell you not to listen at doors, Miss Spindle?”
I shot to a defiant stand, dusting off the backside of my dress. “I wasn’t listening.”
The Nightmare laughed. We’re going to have to work on your lying.
Ravyn shut the door behind him. “How much did you hear?”
I moved to the step above him, where we stood almost eye to eye. Almost. “Enough.”
He gazed down his nose at me. “And is the plan to your satisfaction?”
The sting I felt in my chest returned. I narrowed my eyes. “If the ruse will help, I’ll try.”
He did not appear keen to have his own words used against him. Ravyn stared back at me, his gray eyes severe as they traced my face, landing momentarily on my mouth before flickering away. “What about Laburnum?”
“What about him?”
Ravyn tilted his head. “He’s in love with you.”
I winced and shook my hands, as if to fling what he’d said off me. “We’re not attached. A”—I struggled to say the word—“ courtship would bear no weight. I’ve promised him nothing.”