Page 49 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Ivy’s face lit up, regaining some of its usual warmth. “You’re on,” she said, already pulling him toward the game booths.
Lochlan watched them go, worry lingering as he glanced back at Zora’s seer booth. Nia was still inside.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
CHAPTER 17
Nia
“HOW TO KNOW IF YOUR SEER IS A FAKE.” —A PAGANS BLOG
The tent’s interior was dimly lit, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. Rich purple drapes hung from the low ceiling, their embroidered patterns shimmering faintly. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and something herbal—sage, maybe. A table stood at the center, draped in deep crimson cloth, a black velvet pouch resting at its edge.
Nia hesitated as Ivy slipped out of the tent, torn between following her to make sure she was alright, and staying put to hear what her own future might hold. The seer before her—Zora—had a presence that, in the end, pinned her in place.
Ivy’s reading had uncovered some shadow-work to be done, an introspection Nia knew her friend wasn’t prepared to deal with yet. Oh, and that she wasn’t ready for love, but when the time came, it would be something extraordinary. Ivy was a hopeless romantic with very little patience.
She’s going to hate that, Nia thought.
Zora shuffled her deck, deliberate and unrushed. Her resemblance to Becket was impossible to miss—the same sharp cheekbones, the same rich brown skin, the same chestnut eyes—and the same gift.
Sister, Nia assumed. Still, where Becket carried himself with a casual, devil-may-care attitude, Zora’s energy was unwavering and intense, as if she could see straight through Nia to the parts she kept hidden. Zora fanned out the cards, flipped one over, and placed it firmly on the table.
A single gold cup stood alone on the card.
“Your friend isn’t ready for love,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. Her fingers hovered over the next card before she glanced up. “But the Ace of Cups speaks to new beginnings. Love, joy, deep connection. This says you’re just finding yours.”
Nia blinked, her chest tightening. “My what?”
“Your love.” Zora flipped another card, her brows drawing together in a deep crease. A woman sat before a set of scales, one arm raised as if to tip the balance. The card landed upside down. Zora’s brow creased. “Well, that’s… not good.”
“What’s worse than love?” Nia asked, her tone light even as unease twisted in her gut. The thought didn’t sit right. The night had been full of laughter, of shared glances and lingering touches with Lochlan. Every time their shoulders brushed, she’d found herself leaning in instead of pulling away. But now Zora’s reading weighed on her.
The seer rolled her eyes, her voice tinged with exasperation as she tapped on the second card. “Who did you piss off?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Nia leaned back, crossing her arms. “This week? This year? Today?”
“Justice reversed,” Zora said. “It means something is off. Consequences are coming. And you don’t get to decide when.”
Zora sucked in a sharp breath as she flipped another card: a woman laying before the oceans, ten swords impaling her from head to foot.
Her head shook slightly as she gathered up the deck. Without a word, she set this aside and pulled out another deck, shuffled it briskly, and flipped the top card.
The same card, albeit with different and more faded artwork stared back at them.
Zora’s expression tightened as she tried yet another deck.
Again, the same card appeared.
“I didn’t know you did magic tricks, too,” Nia said, her unease bubbling into forced humor.
“This isn’t funny,” Zora snapped.
“What is it?” Nia asked, feeling defensive.
Zora set the deck down, her lips thin. “Someone hunts you.”
Nia exhaled slowly, her lips quirking into a small, sardonic smile. “Not surprised.”
