Arcana Rising
Page 27

“I heard Death and Fauna talking about a massacre.” Gran tucked a curl behind my ear. “Jack was a human? A regular man?”
Regular? Not in any way. “He was an extraordinary non-Arcana.” I found myself recounting a fraction of the brave, incredible things he’d done. Through the stories, Gran learned about the past several months of my life and some of my encounters with other Arcana.
I left out the part when Aric had abducted me, mentally and physically torturing me.
She gave me another hug, saying, “I’m so sorry Jack has passed on. I would’ve liked to see you with a boy from the Basin.” She’d had friends there, visiting all the time. She drew back. “Did you speak Cajun French with him?”
Twist, tighten, constrict. “He loved that I could. Thank you for teaching me.”
“Ah, Evie, you lost your love young, didn’t you? Just like your mother.”
When my dad had gone missing in the Basin, Mom had searched more than a million acres of swamp trying to recover him. I’d tried to reverse time to recover Jack.
In the end, Mom had been forced to just . . . accept her loss. I understood bravery in battle and dying; I now understood true pain. But I couldn’t wrap my mind around . . . enduring.
Acceptance seemed out of the realm of my abilities. “The Emperor took Jack from me forever. I need to kill Richter. It’s all I can think about.” I’d had more nightmares about Jack burning. My mind seemed to be filled with fog, but I clearly recalled those dreams. They bubbled up like lava.
“You will have your vengeance in time,” she assured me. “But the most important thing is the overarching game. You’ve done a great job setting this one up.” She finally smiled. “We can’t ruin all your work by acting rashly.”
“Pardon?”
“Death walks around without his armor—because you have disarmed him. Well done, sweetheart. He’s already defeated.”
The dinner I’d managed to get down now threatened to come back up.
She patted my hand. “Look at those icons. You’ve already made two kills, and you’ve teed up two more. And if I’m not mistaken, the Priestess lingers nearby. Soon she’ll be within reach. You always lure her out of her murky hiding places.”
I had feared my grandmother would be hardcore about the game, about killing all Arcana. But to see and hear her . . . “I don’t look at the people here as enemies. I will never hurt any of them,” I said firmly. Aric had brought her to me; shouldn’t gratitude or decency have softened her stance? At least in regard to him?
She winked at me and whispered, “You don’t have to act. They’re down at dinner. They can’t hear us.”
Oh, God. No wonder Aric hadn’t trusted me for so long. Aside from my history of stabbing him in the back, he’d believed I would think like Gran.
And I might have—if Mom hadn’t sent her away.
How could I tell my grandmother that I hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped? Would the shock hurt her worse? I needed to know what was going on with her health before I dropped this bombshell on her.
My body vine budded, as if to comfort me.
She looked delighted by the tiny show of my powers. “We’ll bring this game to an end sooner than I thought. My Empress is a bold killer—and a sly manipulator. Victory will be yours.”
Don’t get sick, don’t get sick. “Aric has saved my life repeatedly, risking his own. So has Lark. I’m alive right now because she directed him how to find me.”
“I know! It’s astonishing how you’ve got them working for you.” Totally missed the point. “Oh, listen to me. There’s plenty of time for us to strategize. For now, you need to get back to full strength.”
“I am tired.” Eventually I would change Gran’s mind and make her see things my way, but in the meantime, I planned to sneak down and meet with my allies.
“Rest up. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” She patted my hand again. “I couldn’t be prouder of you, Evie,” she said, but she wasn’t looking at my face; she was tracing those icons.
19
“You can never turn your back on my grandmother,” I told Aric and Lark as soon as his study door closed behind us. Just getting from one wing of the castle to another had made my legs sing with pain.
Aric sat behind his desk, Lark and I settling into the chairs in front of it. She had a sleeping ferret wrapped around her neck, a living stole. With keen eyes, Lark surveyed the area; had she never been here?
Probably not. This was Death’s private space. He was particular about his sanctuaries and boundaries, and I was the only one he’d allowed inside.
What would Lark think of his personal study? Behind his desk was a row of soaring Gothic windows. On one wall, he had a collection of ancient swords displayed. Bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling contained his library of priceless editions.
Over centuries, he’d protected those treasured books—because he’d had nothing else to treasure.
This was where I’d first started falling in love with him. We’d sat together on the couch in front of the fire, and as I’d read his favorite books, he’d gazed over at me with satisfaction brimming in his expression.
Now I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.
He steepled his fingers. As usual he wore all dark clothing, and his power-over-everything-I-survey vibe was firmly in place. “What do you think the Tarasova is capable of?”