Chapter Thirty-One #2
It was my turn to ask a question. I looked up at Ravyn and he repaid me with a smile, his gray eyes just as clear as they’d been when he’d taken me by the hand and brought me into the deep underground of the castle—into a world of secrets and treason and purpose. A world of highwaymen and salt.
“Are you still pretending?” I said, reveling in his gaze.
Ravyn gave a surprised laugh and, in front of everyone, leaned in and kissed me. “I never was,” he whispered into my lips.
When I looked up, Hauth’s eyes were on me. He rested his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together, trapping the Chalice’s turquoise light. “And now the one I’ve been waiting for. It’s your turn to answer our questions, Miss Spindle.”
Sweat pooled in my palms, and my breath came out in short, halting wheezes.
Easy now , the Nightmare called. The Chalice is a Card of truth. But the truth must be framed—netted—caught. The question is just as important as the answer.
I’d hardly had time to collect my thoughts before Ione began, her hazel eyes guarded, caught somewhere between curiosity and calculation. “Are you in love, Elspeth?”
I felt as if I might die. For the first time in my life, I almost hated my cousin. I wondered how a Maiden Card fared against a knocked-in tooth.
This is beastly , I groaned. Help me.
Help you?
YOU HEARD ME. Help!
The Chalice affects the blood , he said. My strength—my magic—will not deliver you. His laugh cut through the dark. Unless you’d like me to rip the Card out of the High Prince’s hand… and break all his fingers for good measure.
That is entirely unhelpful.
Then you must find your own way around the Chalice’s magic.
He was right—the Chalice’s magic was strange. I did not feel it in my veins, nor could I discern the familiar scent of salt in my nose. It sat somewhere in my body, trapped, waiting for me to answer.
When I tried to lie, I coughed, the sensation of being strangled so acute my eyes watered.
“Come off it,” Jespyr said. “She needn’t answer if she doesn’t want to.”
“The rest of us had to,” Hauth said, winking at Ravyn. “Let the girl finish.”
But I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to say it, even if I felt it. The truth was too new, so fragile it might break. I fought to find a way around the truth—but magic blocked my tongue at every pass, strangling me until I was left gasping for air.
Breathe , the Nightmare called, his voice a candle in the darkness.
Next to me, Ravyn stirred. “Elspeth.” He squeezed my hand. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes,” I said, the word slipping out of me without resistance, so effortless it could be mistaken as nothing other than the truth.
I tried to pull my hand from Ravyn’s, but he wouldn’t let me, his thumb scraping over my knuckles. Still, I did not look at him. I cast Ione a bitter glance, her question a violation, ripping something from me I was not yet ready to say.
Hauth traced the discomfort on my face greedily, honing in on me. Hunting me. “Now, the question I’ve been longing to ask.” He leaned in. “Tell me, Miss Spindle,” he said, his voice full of false charm. “What happened to your arm?”
I did not have to glance up to know Ravyn, Jespyr, and Elm had all gone rigid in their seats. Ravyn tugged at my hand under the table, but I ignored him, frozen, grasping for words that would not betray me to the hangman.
The Chalice twisted my tongue, blocking the lies before they reached my tongue. Hauth had been smart. He could not steal secrets from Ravyn, a man immune to the Chalice.
But he could steal mine. And with them, condemn us all.
“I—” I said, choking on the word. “I—I was—”
Ione put a hand on Hauth’s arm. “I told you, she fell—”
“Shut your mouth, Ione,” Hauth snarled, swatting her hand away.
“Hasn’t she endured enough of your spite?” Elm said through his teeth.
“What’s it to you, brother?”
“Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t think you should use a Scythe on the woman you’re going to marry.”
They argued. Jespyr joined in. But I didn’t hear what they said. I felt like I was choking on my own bile.
Be calm , the Nightmare’s voice called, close and far away at the same time. Sooner or later, the truth will out , he purred. You said so yourself.
I didn’t mean like THIS!
I glanced up at Ravyn. He must have seen the fear in my eyes, because when he looked at me, there was a pain in his face I had not seen before—raw, protective. He grasped my hand, and though his lips barely moved, I discerned four words from his mouth.
“Let me help you.”
Tears filled my eyes. Next to me, Ravyn’s Nightmare Card flickered again. Salt filled my nose and I froze, understanding only too late what Ravyn had meant.
Let me help you.
“Don’t, Ravyn—” I gasped.
But it was too late. He had already broken his promise.
The intrusion into my mind felt like someone had splashed me with icy water. I felt it in my ears—my eyes—my nostrils, into the roof of my mouth. I coughed, gasping for air.
It’s all right, Elspeth , Ravyn’s voice echoed in my head. You can do this—choose your words carefully. He asked you what happened—not how it happened.
But I hardly heard him. I was too busy shouting, my fingers digging into the Captain of the Destriers’ palm. No, no, no! I told you, no, Ravyn!
Breathe, Elspeth , he said, his voice calm above the din. It’s going to be fine.
I told you NO, Ravyn , I said. Get out.
Ravyn stirred, confusion and hurt touching the corners of his face. I’m sorry , he said, I only wanted to—
The Nightmare lunged out of the darkness like a beast of prey. You heard her , he said, swiping his claws, a vicious snarl ripping up his throat. Get out, Ravyn Yew. GET. OUT.
Ravyn fell with full force out of his seat, the entire table shaking in his wake.
“Easy!” Jespyr called, jumping to her feet. The others stood as well, their gazes shifting from me to the Captain of the Destriers, who sat—dazed on the floor—his handsome face twisted in fear.
Elm rounded the table. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Ravyn’s gray eyes, wide and glassy, were tight on my face. “No… not seen.”
“Sit down,” Hauth barked. He reached forward, pushing past Ione, grasping for me. He caught my injured arm. “It’s all right, Miss Spindle, you can tell me the truth,” he said, his thumb pressing against my sleeve, into my broken wrist. “After all, it’s just a game.”
Jespyr lunged at him. “Get off her,” she yelled, knocking him back, his fingers scraping against my wrist as he let go.
I saw stars, sick with pain. Hauth and Jespyr were at each other’s throats. Elm was pulling Ravyn off the floor. No one but me saw Ione reach for the discarded Chalice on the table and, with the delicate tip of her finger, tap it, freeing me.
We shared a glance. I opened my mouth to say something, but she was already out of her chair, slipping away through the great hall.
Ravyn was on his feet, wolflike as he turned on his cousin. “This was an ambush, not a game,” he snarled. “We’ve indulged you long enough.” He offered me his hand and I took it, then nodded to Jespyr and Elm. “We’re leaving.”
I let out a breath of relief, scrambling to my feet.
But the world all around me buckled, and my knees, suddenly weak, bent under the weight of my body.
I fell, crashing to the floor.
Nausea gripped my stomach and I choked, a thick, oozing bile climbing up my throat, strangling me.
When I coughed it out onto the floor, it was dark and grainy—heavy like the soil I’d dug up that morning.
It slid down my fingers, hot and viscous, leaving long, angry trails that pooled darkly in my palms.
It wasn’t until I’d coughed again that I realized it was blood.
Like a fool, I’d tried to beat the Chalice. I’d tried to lie too much.
In the brief moments before I vomited a sea of blood, I recalled the insignia of the Chalice Card: Truth Serum —the old writing hewn above an image of a cup filled with dark red liquid. On its opposite side, the cup turned on its head—the dark liquid spilling, unbidden…
Poison.