Chapter 9 #2
“Alright, Dark and Stormy, it’s your turn,” Levi says, like he’s been waiting for just the right moment to pounce. His grin is smug, eyes sparkling as he tugs my sleeve. I don’t trust it.
I narrow my gaze. “For what?”
He nods toward a corner of the living room that’s suddenly dimmer than it was a minute ago. A single table sits cloaked in velvet, candles flickering like they’ve been enchanted to do so, and behind it, her.
“The tarot reader,” Levi says, like he’s handed me something delightful. “Time to see what fate has in store.”
Fate.
Of course.
I laugh once, flat and humorless. “I’m good.”
Levi blinks. “What, why? You scared?”
I shake my head, already taking a step backward. “Nope. Just allergic to pageantry.”
He frowns. “You wore a floor-length coat with a collar high enough to smother a child, but sure. You hate theatrics.”
My lips twitch, but I don’t crack. Because I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go anywhere near that table. And definitely not with her sitting behind it.
Not with Constance.
Too many mornings at city hall, chasing loopholes she swears don’t exist. Always with that same infuriating smile. Like she lives to watch me unravel one red-taped dead end at a time.
And now she’s here, of all places, in velvet, surrounded by candles, holding a deck of cards that should not be trusted.
“I just don’t like tarot,” I try again. “It’s…nonsense.”
Levi gives me a look that is all disbelief and a little disappointment. “Really? That’s your official stance?”
“It’s performative,” I add.
“Uh-huh.” His brow arches; he bumps his shoulder into mine. “Come on. If you’re gonna stick around, you have to at least pretend to be whimsical.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever pretended to be whimsical in my life.”
“Well,” he says, casually sipping his drink, “there’s a first time for everything.”
He’s not letting this go. And I’ve already let too many things slip tonight—my guard, my composure, my logic. Something about being around him makes it all loosen, unravel. He makes the world seem soft, harmless, even when I know better.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But if I end up cursed or possessed, I want it noted on record that this was your fault.”
“I’ll engrave it on your tombstone,” he says sweetly. “With lilies and everything.”
We walk toward the table, and I swear the room’s shadows bend inward with each step.
Constance is waiting, dramatic hood in place and hands folded neatly over the deck, like she’s been expecting this exact moment since the dawn of time.
“Well, well,” she says, tilting her head. “Didn’t think you’d sit down tonight.”
“Didn’t realize ancient torment was on the party program,” I reply.
Her smile curves like a blade. “Oh, we’re just having fun. You remember fun, don’t you? Or did you retire that with everything else?”
Levi looks between us, visibly confused. “Wait…do you two know one another?”
Constance doesn’t miss a beat. “Only like one knows a stubborn shadow. Always lurking. Rarely welcome.”
“Charming,” I snap.
She flourishes the deck like she’s onstage. But the moment her fingers touch the cards, they stutter. Slip.
She frowns and tries again.
Static hums in the air.
Levi leans in. “Is it supposed to do that?”
“She’s just rusty,” I say too quickly. Cards don’t scare me. It’s what she’ll say while flipping them that does.
Constance grins at me like a cat who’s just spotted a bird with a broken wing. “On the contrary. Some people come with…residue. Old threads that don’t want to be read.”
She lays down the first card.
Death.
Naturally and not at all surprising.
Levi lets out a startled laugh. “Okay, that’s…wow. Starting off strong.”
“Transformation,” Constance purrs. “One self ending, another emerging. Unless…”
“Unless what?” Levi asks, intrigued.
She doesn’t answer. Just flips another card.
The Tower.
“Dramatic,” I mutter.
Levi whistles. “You are really not doing well, huh?”
Another card. She doesn’t even glance at it before placing it down.
Judgment.
“Fascinating. You’ve always struggled with finality.”
I fold my arms tightly. “Cut to the chase.”
“I’m just here to reflect,” she says, the words threading a needle through my spine. “Though it is curious…You’ve walked away from everything, haven’t you? Kingdom, crown, name. And yet…”
She leans forward, eyes flicking to where my shadows lie, slow and serpentine.
Her lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but more like a secret.
“You still cast quite the shadow.”
Levi stiffens, his hand hovering behind my chair like he’s not sure whether to touch me or pull away.
And Constance? She chuckles. Soft and delighted like she’s just watched a spark catch fire. She places her hand on the table and taps once. “But now you’re here with a boy who glows like embers. Bold. Risky. Almost…human of you.”
My stomach drops.
Levi leans dramatically over the cards, eyes narrowed. “Hmm…It says all that in the cards?”
I shoot to my feet, chair screeching, shadows lashing before I can call them in.
“I need air,” I snap.
“Hayden—” Levi starts, reaching for me.
“Don’t,” I say, too fast, too loud.
Behind me, Constance offers a final gift.
“You can strip the title, shed the crown, turn from the throne. But even in mortal skin, you’ll always be him.”
It lands like a blow.
I don’t turn around. I move. Fast. Out the door. Into the night. The cold doesn’t chill me. I brace against the porch railing, air burning my lungs like ash.
Inside, Levi is still staring at the table, the place where I sat.
I don’t know what he’s thinking.
But I’m afraid he’s finally starting to see me.
And beneath the hum of my pulse, one thought won’t settle: She shouldn’t have said that.
Not here.
Not like that.
And certainly not in front of him.
I don’t know if I fear more what Levi heard…or why Constance wanted him to. I should have known better. After all, gods don’t get futures.
Only shadows. And I’ll never outrun mine.