Julie bit her lower lip again. “I would really prefer not to say. I’ve never been one to keep secrets, and this has been the hardest of my life. But my beau, as you call him, said it would be best if we waited until everything was settled before we tell anyone. And I do very much hope all will be settled soon.”
“Do not worry,” said Anaïs. “Keep any secrets you like. The cards will guide you regardless.”
Mallory crossed her arms impatiently. “But when did you have time to meet anyone? You live here, you work here…” She gasped. “Is it the stable boy?”
“Mally!” Anaïs scolded. “She already said that she would prefer not to say.”
Mallory sulked, her curiosity getting to her. But she held her tongue as Anaïs opened her traveling case and pulled out their mother’s cards, wrapped in the delicate handkerchief she kept them in.
“Do you have a specific question,” Anaïs asked, “or do you wish the cards to offer general guidance on your engagement?”
Julie fidgeted with the ring on her finger. “Not an engagement, miss. I… I married him. Last week.”
Mallory and Anaïs both gaped at her.
“Well, then, what are you needing us for?” Anaïs said.
Julie shied away. “It’s only that… he’s been acting odd ever since we said our vows, and I wonder… I’m worried I may have made a mistake.” Her voice trailed into a desperate whisper, thickening with unshed tears. “I love him so desperately. But I am not sure if he truly loves me.” Clearing her throat, she said, “I don’t expect any charity. I can pay you for the reading tomorrow, if that’s all right? I’ll bring some coin with your breakfast.” Her smile thinned, weighted with desperation. “It won’t be too great a hardship, not if… if the reading is favorable. As you said. My…” She fumbled for a word. “My husband is quite generous. Now that we are married…” She pressed a hand to her heart, almost as if she couldn’t believe her words. “I shall not need for anything ever again.”
Biting back a pessimistic response, Mallory nodded at her sister.
Anaïs shuffled the cards.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The deck of Wyrdith cards might have been battered and worn around the edges, the designs faded from time, but they were still beautiful. Forty-nine cards in total. Thirteen moons. Seven gods. Four seasons. And the twenty-five enigmas, their meanings as murky as their names and the symbols hand-painted in intricate detail.The One-Eyed Swan. The Tinkerer. Six Unlit Lanterns.
When their mother read the cards, it was as if they were speaking to her. She knew things, things she shouldn’t have known. She made uncanny predictions and was not surprised when they came true. Mallory and Anaïs had hoped that perhaps some of her magic was still inside the cards. That perhaps a bit of her spirit remained in the faint smell of clove oil she dabbed onto her wrists before each reading.
They had hoped their readings would be true.
They weren’t.
To Mallory and her sister, the cards were pretty pieces of paper, with no meaning beyond what a person imposed upon them.
Mallory had come to realize that it didn’t really matter anyway. No one came to have their fortune told—their real, undeniable, unavoidable fortune.
People wanted happy untruths. They wanted hope, encouragement, advice.
Together, she and Anaïs had crafted a collection of scripts, interchangeable based on what a client wanted, and most people wanted the same things: Wealth. Success in some endeavor. Children. Health. And always the easiest to predict… love.
There was no doubt what Julie had come for that night.
Anaïs spread the cards before her, fanning them across the table. “Choose four,” she instructed, “and place them face down into my palm.”
Julie fidgeted nervously as she pored over the cards. Her slim finger trailed over their faded backs, occasionally hesitating. Slowly and thoughtfully, she selected four cards and handed them to Anaïs.
Anaïs scooped up the deck and set it aside, then flipped over the four cards with a flourish—laying them across the table in a tidy cross.
Perched on the cushioned window seat, Mallory craned her head.
The Silver Stag.
One Empty Coffin.
The Untouched Feast.
Velos—god of wisdom and death.
