“But you’re a seer!” His skull felt like it could crack. “You’re meant to see things, know things. You told me I’d find success here, and now I’ve got a few months to live.”
“I see you’re still sharp as a tack with some things and thick as a plank with others. The Sight doesn’t make me omniscient. It doesn’t work like that. Now, shuffle.”
“But—”
“Shuffle!”
She pushed the deck toward him. Frustration caught in Briar’s throat like a snared thread. He’d been so certain Niamh would know more than he’d managed to ascertain so far. All that effort to contact her, and all she’d give him was a tarot reading and some flaky nonsense about how The Sight Doesn’t Work Like That.
He took the deck and found he could feel the cards’ worn backs. He shuffled, uncertain if the act was a figment of his imagination or magic, but he could feel the toll of silence wending around his throat. Niamh took the deck from him, licked a finger to peel the first from the top, and laid it out, then another. She assembled a spread, two cards atop each other, and two columns of three beneath.
She flipped the first, bowing its surface so it snapped flat.
The Ten of Swords. It depicted a man lying prone with ten swords stuck through his back like the world’s saddest pin cushion.
“That’s you,” said Niamh.
“Great.”
“Things appear bleak. You’re pinned under the weight of your ambitions and the relentless passage of time. There’s also a sense of betrayal.”
Briar folded his arms across his chest. Yes. He felt betrayed. He was meant to haveyears.
“Knowledge and truth are the only means by which you might free yourself from despair,” Niamh said.
“Which is why I’mhere—”
She hushed him and flipped the next card. The Lovers. Briar cringed.
“You’ve come to a crossroads,” Niamh said. “A choice is before you. It comes down to more than love, but life, too. Of embarking on a journey or remaining home. Who you choose to take with you will shape your fate.”
She turned over the two cards below. On the left, the Six of Pentacles depicted a man distributing coins to people on bended knee. On the right, the Knight of Cups serenely offered a bountiful, golden chalice.
“Hm,” said Niamh. “The Six of Pentacles tells us an influential figure with wealth and power will present you with extravagant gifts, while the Knight of Cups offers humbler comforts and emotional fulfillment.”
Briar thought those sounded a bit on the nose.
“The cards beneath will reveal what each can give you, and what it will cost.”
She flipped the two cards beneath the Six of Pentacles first, revealing Temperance and the Three of Swords. On the first, an angel stood with one foot in a stream, balancing water between two cups. On the second, a heart was stabbed through with three blades.
Niamh scowled, eyebrow raised. “In undertaking a journey with this influential figure, you’ll find balance and healing. Great wrongs will be brought to rights, harmony restored to you and those close to you. A river of health and fortitude will flow through you, reinvigorating you after this painful journey. However… it will cost you in love. It will break your heart.”
Briar nearly screamed. “So I’ll have harmony and health, but I’ll be heartbroken about it?”
“No need to take that tone. The other cards might be more illuminating.” She flipped the last two underneath the Knight of Cups. Briar’s heart leapt into his throat. The first was the Two of Cups, the second was—
“Death,” said Niamh.
“But that just means change, doesn’t it?” He’d paidsomeattention to Niamh’s teachings.
“No,” she murmured. “In this case, I believe it means what it says on the tin.”
The weight of Briar’s curse felt leaden and physical. “And not in the ‘we all die eventually,’ long-term, tricky word-play sense?”
“No… I’m afraid it will come much sooner than that.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”
