26. The Soul Reach #2
Torren’s outburst was interrupted by Havanj’s easy, “Yes,” as another card landed on the table.
“I’m sorry, why do you think I’m her daughter? Whoever she is?”
“The glamour around you, Lass. I’m surprised you don’t see it, Torren.” Havanj said, wiggling her fingers toward Cypress.
Then, she put down the deck of cards she’d been shuffling and deftly flipped the three cards that had left her hands.
“Ace of Cups,” Havanj said, placing the card in front of Cypress. “Ten of Swords, “Knight of Swords.”
Silence rang in her ears as she stared at the three intricately decorated cards. The one with the words ‘Ten of Swords’ held her attention.
Painted on the card was an image of a Knight laying face down with swords stabbed into its back.
“Have you ever had the cards read for you, Cypress?”
“No, but I can’t say this looks super comforting,” she retorted. Even without fully understanding, the warning to her was clear enough.
If she believed.
“The Ace here, being pulled first, indicates a new passionate relationship.”
Cypress pulled a face, any trace of belief being wiped from her mind.
“Then we have the Knight of Swords.”
“Because I’m a Knight, right?”
Havanj crooked a smile. “No, Lass. Danger lurks around the corner for you. Violence awaits you.”
Cypress huffed a laugh. “So just my normal everyday.”
Torren cracked a smile at that.
“And, finally, the Ten of Swords. Someone will betray you. You will see lows you had never considered.”
“Great,” Cypress said. She felt foolish for even entertaining all of this. “All gloom and doom then.”
“No, not all. There is always the promise of a new dawn. A new day.”
“And what does all of this have to do with my mother?” Cypress asked. She desperately wished to get this conversation back on track.
“I was merely curious what the cards would say.”
“If what Havanj believes is true, then you aren’t just anyone in Faerie, Lass. You’d be a Duchess,” Torren said.
Cypress blinked. “No,” she said in disbelief.
Havanj interjected with “Yes. I can see the glamour, her signature magic spiderwebbing through it, and I imagine so can Torren now that I've pointed it out. Which means you were not always an orphan. Your mother was alive long enough to protect you, likely at the cost of her own life.”
“But I’ve never, I mean, there are tests done at the Keep to determine where orphans go to serve. I’ve never shown any indication of power.”
Havanj shook her head. “It’s not something that would be detected in such a way. We can see it because Jinemelle is built on the Lae Lines. And, because I’d wager since your first step into the Wylds, this glamour has been wearing off. The forest is welcoming you home.”
“Who was she?” Cypress asked, curiosity rising.
“Your Mother was a Duchess, ruling over the lands of Eobbaara. The lineage can be traced through all eleven of the Wyld Hunts,” Torren said, an undefinable look in his eye.
“And, somehow, you think that I come from that line?”
“Remember what I told you?” Torren said. His storm grey eyes bored into her from across the table.
“So I’m supposed to believe that I somehow come from a noble house within Faerie? Despite never showing even a hint of power, of anything special blossoming in my veins?” Cypress shook her head and pushed her chair back to leave. “No, I don’t believe it.”
“Haven’t you always wondered why the trees seemed to whisper to you? Why you feel stronger, and more rested than you ever have–despite being on the road for some time?”
“Who said that?” Cypress demanded, eyes darting around the room for the source, whoever had been listening to their conversation.
“Well, have you wondered?” Again, the voice asked. It somehow sounded both young and old. It reverberated through her skull.
“It's an expression. When the wind blows, the leaves rattle and shift, making it seem as if the trees are whispering. That is all.”
They laughed, a low, deep chuckle that sounded as if it came from every corner of the room.
“And the reason for your strength?”
Cypress growled, “I am strong because I train. Nothing more.”
“Yes, you are strong in that regard, but you are also strong in other ways, Cypress of Eobbaara.”
“Enough of this! Who are you?”
“I know who I am, do you know who you are, Cypress?”
“I am a Knight. I am Captain,” Cypress began to say, but somehow the words got lodged in her throat. Saying I am Captain Cy seemed to ring untrue in her ears.
She wasn’t, really. Cypress and the persona of Captain Cy were entirely different, even if the person behind the helmet and armor was the same.
The sable-coated cat wandered out from beneath the table, iridescent wings fluttering and tail flicking back and forth. “And is that all you are?” It asked.
“I– what do you mean by that?” Cypress asked, bewildered. She was talking to a cat.
“Is all that you are? The result of what others have asked of you? Or… are you more than that?”
Cypress’s heart pounded in her chest while she gazed into the milky green eyes of the cat.
Was she more than just the mask of Captain Cy?
It took a few minutes for her to respond. Her thoughts needed time to catch up to the beating of her heart.
“More,” Cypress rasped. “I am more than just the mask of Captain Cy.”
“Then you already realize the truth of our words. You are Duchess of Eobbaara.”
The cat jumped back onto the table, silent feet dancing between cups.
“Even without power? Without magic?”