Page 30 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘Death’s right hand.’ Fontaine suppressed a shudder. Then, more to herself, she muttered, ‘Different saints this time around… different tasks, perhaps… hmm…’
‘That one sounds more like a curse than a gift,’ said Theo under his breath.
The third card was a man with tousled hair and wide, gleaming teeth. He was staring right out of the portrait, like he could see them.
‘The Silver-tongue,’ read Sera.
‘A charmer versed in the art of persuasion,’ said Fontaine. ‘Intriguing.’
‘I don’t think that’s our Sera.’ Val patted her on the shoulder. ‘No offence.’
Sera’s gaze remained on the cards. Her eyes burned, as though her magic was peering out, too. ‘Is one of these supposed to be me?’
The crevices in Fontaine’s face shifted until she looked impossibly old. ‘There is a wrongness in this reading. Something hidden. Something missing…’She snapped her chin up, her milky gaze narrowing. ‘Or perhaps it isyouwho feels wrong.’
Sera took a step backwards. ‘I haven’t done anything.’
Like a marble in the pit of her soul, her magic roiled, as if to say,That’s the problem.
Fontaine’s eyes glazed over. Her lips moved soundlessly, as though she was having an argument with someone inside her own head.
Sera tried to look at the cards again, but Theo had already pocketed them.
‘Draw one more,’ she pleaded. ‘It might make things clearer.’
Fontaine returned to herself with a withering scowl. To Sera’s surprise, she shoved the deck at her, then took a long drag of her pipe. ‘Draw for yourself. The cards are addled.’
Sera shuffled clumsily. She didn’t know when to stop or where to pull from, but then a card leaped from the deck all by itself. Val snatched it in mid-air, turning it over.
It was a single red rose.
Not a figure this time but a symbol.
Fontaine canted her head. ‘The rose,’ she said, tracing the gilded petals. ‘The official flower of Valterre. A symbol of rebirth and renewal.’ She traced the thorns along the stem, miming pricking her finger. ‘But not without pain. Without sacrifice.’
She snapped her gaze up, and the darkness that gathered there made Sera shuffle closer to Theo. ‘The rose is bothsoft and dangerous. It can mean great beauty or untold destruction. It depends on the soil in which it grows. The forces that surround it.’
Sera wanted to ask her more, about the cards and the saints and the prophecy – about what it meant for Valterre, and for her – but Bibi reappeared at that same moment, coming around the side of House Armand with a look of stark worry on her face. ‘I’m afraid we’ve been rumbled.’
Theo stiffened, his hand flying to Sera’s elbow. She jerked her chin, following his gaze, and caught sight of Madame Mercure’s withering grimace in a second-storey window. There was no mistaking the threat in her dark eyes.
‘We should get out of here,’ Theo said, urgently. ‘Looks like we’ve outstayed our welcome.’
‘You never had one to begin with,’ said Fontaine, returning to her snarky form with impressive ease. ‘Cordelia has had eyes on you since you set foot in her garden.’
‘We’ll go,’ said Sera, backing away now. ‘We really don’t want any trouble.’
The others turned, promptly bolting from the garden, just as Fontaine called after her. ‘Seraphine!’
Sera realized she was still holding the tarot deck.
She doubled back to return it. ‘Honest mistake.’
‘You seem to be full of those.’
Sera bit back her retort. No point. No time. Leaving the wily old Cloak with the last word, she turned to go, but Fontaine pitched forward, dropping her voice until she alone could hear it.
‘Fear is a fog you cannot see through. Only the light ofbravery can banish it,’ she said, urgently. ‘When you decide what you’re willing to sacrifice for your gift – your unwritten destiny, your own self-control – it will reveal itself to you.’
