Chapter 9 The Curse #3
“I admit I’ve listened in to the princess’s thoughts.
The seraphs’ halos are meant to block that gift, but she doesn’t wear it every hour of the day.
” His gaze skims my knowing glance, a dangerous smile coiling his lips, before he amends, “Don’t be jealous.
Getting that close didn’t involve anything too scandalous. ”
I roll my eyes, why would I care, but my face heats.
“However, as much as she might desire me, she wants to be revered by her people. Marrying a ‘heathen prince’ would tarnish her image. She cares about how she’s perceived more than anything in this world.
The seraphs see us as occultist, nature-worshipping monsters, who revere the ‘wrong’ gods.
If you’re still feeling sorry for her, know that she doesn’t want this either. ”
I wasn’t. Or at least pity didn’t quite soothe the serrated edges of my thoughts around her.
I hated the way she looked to my father as though he’d poured his love into her in my absence.
Even her sense of entitlement around Draven.
As if she owned a bit of him. I cut those thoughts off as a smirk edges his mouth, his eyes sparkling to life again.
“If your father agrees to give me to Nevaeh, what happens to me then?” I ask quietly.
My father had a rhyme about being chosen by the seraphs, too, one I stewed on long after he was Selected: Beware the seraphs of the skies, obsessed with truth from on high, they judge and punish every lie, atone your sins lest you die.
“Cute.” Draven’s tone drips in sarcasm, and I shift on my feet, face flaming.
“Just tell me what it means for me.” He seems honest right now. Even as I try to pause my thoughts, wondering how he might use them to his advantage.
“You’ll probably be entered into their military academy, the Aura.
Separated into clerics and scribes, soldiers and politicians.
It’s a mirror of things here, but more severe.
Perfection is the only allowable thing in that kingdom.
” His eyes roll to the coffered ceiling, his tone dripping with disgust. “But after that, you’d be placed with whatever seraph was most worthy to be your marital partner.
It’s all arranged. You’d have less choice than here, where you have great potential, and therefore power and say.
Here, you could choose anyone you wanted. ”
I wonder if that truly means anyone.
“But there, perhaps you’d be able to see your father more. He must have considerable sway over the seraph king, although I’ve heard he’s not wholly trusted, as a former mortal.”
A jolt of concern seizes me.
“Still, if the king allows him to watch over the princess, he must be able to bend his ear. But Nevaeh is a difficult place. I’d be glad to never live there.
They judge people based on their intent and inherent goodness.
You’re sorted and placed depending on it.
Not just who you want to be but who you are beneath it.
Along with any parts that might be deemed flawed. ”
Pass.
“My thoughts exactly,” he adds, and I glower at him.
“How do I stop you from doing that?” I hate the ease with which he reads my mind.
It makes me feel exposed, as though every moment he’s gathering more leverage against me.
I force my thoughts onto a field near my old home, the way the winter stripped the trees bare, the snow silencing the grass and the animals into cold, hushed whiteness.
Try to hear my thoughts when they’re buried beneath ice, Princeling.
His head tilts, brows twitching, but I keep my thoughts quiet.
“Train. Learn to block your thoughts, but you’d have only a couple weeks to dedicate to it.
This High Priestess Arcana is the one responsible for the ability to read minds.
” He gives me an arrogant look that grows darker.
“Those of us attuned to the High Priestess can guard our thoughts, persuade others. Seraphs can’t hide their lies or thoughts.
Their halos change color when they speak even a small falsehood.
They value honesty and goodness above all. ”
“You could teach me to build some walls, ones that could help.” I chew my lip, nerves fraying.
He looks me over from head to toe as if to silently ask why he would bother, and I tack on, “Maybe it’ll work there, but if not, it’ll help while I’m here.
So you don’t have to hear my voice, if for no other reason. ”
“Well … that alone might be worth suffering your presence.” He sits up, grimacing as if he’s mulling it over.
“I suppose it’ll give me some quiet, and if you’re really set on being reunited with your father and living your life in Nevaeh, I’ll get to break this betrothal and continue working toward my reign here.
” A hunger grows in the far-off look of those eyes, as if they search through something unseen, a feast of every opportunity he thought was denied him.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, suddenly the prince again, even without the wings and horns.
It occurs to me the command he holds may not just lie within his immortality. Looking at him now, I see how ambitious he is—his desire to lead, to command, annoyingly entices me.
His voice is hesitant in anticipation. “I don’t know if this training will help you there, but it might give you some leeway at least … to survive. Are you sure that you want this?” His narrowing eyes suggest he can’t imagine a life where he’d give up certain power for another person.
“I want to go,” I say, and he slides me a look. I emphasize, “I will go.”
“Good.” The apple in his throat bobs. “Then let’s move to the living room.”
He stands and walks by me, and his heady scent washes over me. I hesitate a moment. I don’t know why his agreement bothers me the way it does. What did I think? That he’d try to convince me to stay?
When we enter the comforting space, he summons the World to channel magic through his other Arcana cards.
He summons the Moon first. His wings and horns reappear in smoke, as if he’s worried about eyes on us even here in this private space.
He summons another card with such ease, golden magic dancing from his fingers, leaping to all the curtains until every window is veiled.
Draven comes to stand at my side and shows me the Emperor shuffled to the forefront of his summoned cards.
Spying crystals draw into his spare hand, one flying out of my room, the other from a potted plant.
He mentions casually, “The Emperor represents security, discipline, stability. And he grants the ability to move things with our very minds.”
Once again, he switches to Temperance.
“And Temperance removes magic?” I confirm, curious.
“You are paying attention.” He grins slowly. I bite my cheek and avoid answering.
I allow myself to imagine, just briefly, being that powerful—using the World to summon all the cards with ease, outmatching all other Arcana …
I toy with these thoughts as he breaks and destroys each crystal just like he did the first, more slowly, so I can watch them turn from bright glowing crystal to dim rock, and then he casts them all into the fireplace.
When the sizzling sound stops, he sits on the sofa, gesturing for me to join him.
Draven places his tarot deck on the coffee table, and I copy the motion with mine. He shuffles his cards, spreading them in one hand and with the other picks out a card. His deft fingers flip it until I can see the High Priestess clearly.
“In her upright form, the High Priestess allows the wielder to read the minds of others. But every Arcana can be read upright or in reverse, and it can also be summoned that way. So, in the reverse form”—he flips the card until it hangs upside down between us—“she can be used to manipulate and exert influence over others. The most successful druids with this Arcana can use it to fan an individual’s fears, desires, or corrupt their thoughts.
Though it’s a low-ranking Arcana, many courtiers keep them around—often in roles as handmaidens, butlers, or perhaps even in their inner circles—for their influence. ”
“You make the summoning look easy.” I chew my lip.
“You can snap your fingers—it helps. Or flick the top card. Training wheels for summoning.” Draven gestures to my cards.
I’ve tried flicking the card to no avail, so I snap my fingers in a flourish over my deck only for nothing to happen.
“It’s not show tunes, Rune.”
I shoot him a glare. “I’m trying.” I straighten up, his words stoking my anger. To calm myself, I focus my thoughts again on that field of snow, the repressive silence of it. The heavy weight of the world my singular, quiet companion.
“Like this.” His hand envelops my wrist, slowly guiding it. Again, he shows me his own, the command in that firm snap, as if he’s giving the order to a wayward hound.
I try again, putting my anger behind it, and am surprised when the World floats upright, summoned by my demand. My mouth drops open. I did it.
He bites back a smug grin, no praise, just pride shimmering in those eyes—of himself or me, I’m not sure.
He flashes his hand to me, the one with the World card tattooed across the back.
“If you were to elevate to a full druid, you could channel some limited magic without a deck. This little technicality is why you’re constantly on my mind unless I’m actively shutting you out. ”
“You sound a little obsessed,” I say.
“You’re not the only one I have to endure, just the only one louder than my own thoughts.
” He smirks as my lips curl and continues as if I haven’t interrupted him.
“You don’t need access to tarot to mentally shield, only to look into others, so there’s a chance it’ll help you in Nevaeh.
With both our hands on the reins, I’m hopeful we can shut it down completely. I think we’d both prefer that?”
“Just fucking teach me,” I growl, and his full lips curl.
“Earlier … you were imagining a snowy field. I couldn’t hear anything for once, but I could see that as clearly as if I stood there myself. Where was that?”
“A place in Westfall, near my old house,” I say, hands fidgeting in my lap.
“Why there?” His stare and question are innocent. The answer is something else.
“It was safe,” I manage.
“That’s all?” His gaze narrows, tinging sapphire, as if he can sense the omission but cannot decipher it.
“Why do your eyes change color?” A truth for a truth. I doubt his is as layered as my own. “None of the other druids have changing eyes.”
He blanches and glances away, running a hand through his long black hair, thumbnail grating one of his horns in the movement. “That hasn’t happened since I was young.”
“Seriously? I noticed it the first day—”
“Let’s just stay focused on you. Back to your snowfield. If it’s safe, we can use it. Now close your eyes. I want to try something.”
His reservations have fallen away, and in their place he wears a disarming smile.
If I didn’t know I was looking into the soul of a wolf, I might have thought we were sharing a laugh.
I’m not sure about closing my eyes around him.
His eyes slowly narrow the longer I wait.
I lean closer, as though I’m sticking my neck through a noose, and clench my eyes shut.
“Good. Now breathe. Slower. In. Out. I want you to remember that image, but I want you to pull back from it a bit. Imagine that snowy field as a painting. Now picture the wall it’s affixed to.
It can be anything … but I want you to envision the most impenetrable barrier you can, thick enough that even a dragon with all its might could not shake it. ”
It feels a bit stupid, but as I listen to his deep voice, I allow myself to breathe slower, my mind sinking into my body, getting lost in the command of his words.
I imagine the field of white, and as my focus steadies, I can pick out the brushstrokes in the canvas, then the gilded frame, made of pure gold.
It sits on a wall of plain concrete, lit by torches.
“Focus on that wall, make it real.” His sweet-smelling breath ghosts my face. “Keep it steady. No matter what.”
I sit, imagining the painting behind my closed lids.
And then suddenly, I hear a thud. The picture moves, swinging a bit before clacking against the wall again.
Draven sighs loudly through his nose, distracting me.
“Did you just try to break down my wall?” I ask coyly.
“Yes. You should see what I’m seeing. It’s not going to hold.” Draven shifts his weight on the sofa. I keep focusing on that wall in my mind, a headache forming at my temples.
“It’ll hold,” I growl.
He huffs a laugh, and as I’m staring at that wall, it shakes again, hard.
The painting falls to a concrete floor, and I can hear something breaking through as if it’s real.
The wall dissolves, chunks dropping to the ground as it caves inward.
On the other side talons rip and tear, scales glisten, a great glowing purple eye stares back.
My eyes snap open, and the vision fades, but the chill remains, my heart hammering in my chest.
“You sure about that?” His brow rises.
I roll my eyes and say, “Again.”