Page 104 of The Reveal
“And what areyouexactly, Winter?”
His eyes are so green, but I don’t find them mesmerizing. Not anymore. “I think you know. I’ve taken over for my grandmother.” And he doesn’t deserve to know how stating something like that, so matter-of-factly when I’ve been trying so hard not to accept it, hits me. Or how the cards that are wedged inside my shirt seem to hum. I make myself smile. Sort of. “Anyway, I hope to see you tonight?”
For the first time I can remember since the Reveal started and I spent more time with Samuel—only once not in public—I can’t wait to get away from him. I keep that smile on my face, back away, then turn and walk briskly back toward my truck.
I feel good about myself for extending that olive branch.
It’s not his fault that the crush I had on him has disappeared like it never existed. There’s no reason for me to treat him any differently. After all,heis exactly the same.
I’m the one who’s changed.
When I make it home, I tell myself that I should probably get something to eat since I can’t remember the last time I put food in my body—
But I stop dead before I make it to the front door, because Savi’s there.
She’s sitting on the front step and looks a lot like she’s sitting on a throne, though that could be because I know who she is now.
Once again, the sweep of her dark hair is so glossy it defies description. Her eyes are luminous and direct. Her skin isdewy, and I’m not even the kind of person who notices things likeskin. Today she’s wearing what looks like a simple pair of trousers and a sweater, but this is Savi.
So of course she looks like a magazine spread.
She gazes at me for a long while. I return the favor.
“Sorcery,” I say. Eventually. “You’rea sorceress.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“That would explain the chanting I always hear from your room. Not a happy little meditation practice, I’m guessing.”
“I find spell work can be very meditative.” Her lips curve slightly. “But no, I’m not much for yoga.”
“And almost everyone in this house knew who you were. Everyone but me.”
“I wasn’t hiding.” Savi says that very matter-of-factly. “Though I am also not in the habit of illuminating those who seem perfectly happy in the dark.”
“What about people who don’t know they’re in the dark because they’re being manipulated by the sorceress who plays with the weather?”
She inclines her head. “I have been in this valley for a long time. Long by your standards, anyway. You wouldn’t think it would be hard to find, especially when there’s an interstate that runs right through it, but even before the Reveal it was something of a forgotten place.”
Five hours to the Bay Area, five hours to Portland—not that either place is likely standing these days. “Is that something you did deliberately?”
“It’s true that I don’t wish to be found.” Savi does not answer the question. Not directly. “I’ve been on the run for some time.”
“From your family,” I say, remembering something Ariel said.
“From my own family, yes. And also from my husband.” I work hard not to react to that. I get the feeling she’s doing the same. “It’s hard to say, century to century, if they’re still looking. Sorcerers love nothing more than an epic grudge, however. So I imagine they are.”
I think about the cards that follow me wherever I go. I think about Gran. About the inevitability who is Ariel. “I didn’t have any choice about the things that chase me. Did you?”
Her smile widens. “I see you’re stepping into your role.” But her expression shifts. “Very few of us do. You do your best to survive, and if there’s space, you do what you can to thrive a little, too. Whether your life is short or long, that’s really all there is to it.”
“Great pep talk,” I tell her, and I’m surprised to find I feel like laughing. “In case no one told you, I’m calling a meeting. Right here at sundown. I’ll need you there. I’m tired of playing games, and maybe you haven’t heard in between making the rain and the smoke, but there’s a death goddess with a major attitude problem on the loose. Might make sense for the big, bad supernatural creatures to focus on that.”
“We are all tired of playing games.” She laughs, but when she tilts her head slightly, her gaze is assessing. “Though it is not my experience that anyone or anything cares if you’re tired. You still have to play.”
“Noted,” I say. “That sounds like an order, not a pep talk.”
“Who am I to tell an oracle what her future holds?” Savi replies, lightly. Very, very lightly.
