Page 102 of Foresyth Conservatory
He smiled, but there was sadness in his eyes. “Julian was a master puzzle maker. He blew us all out of the water at the last Symposium with his disappearing act. Little did we know it wasn’t the only trick up his sleeve.”
I returned his gaze but didn’t say anything. I thought of him and Julian, whether they got along, or if they fought in front of everyone else like we had. Were they like friends, brothers, or something more?
“Julian . . . he was more than just a friend to you,” I said. I studied his reaction carefully, because of course I did. It was my natural instinct. His brows twitched only for a second, but it was enough for me to know I was getting closer to something I probably shouldn’t.
“That’s why you and Sequoia were fighting at my first Circle. I initially thought it was because Sequoia was involved with him. But . . . you were too.” He looked down and I could sense the uneasiness in him—shame, perhaps. “But it was unbalanced. Perhaps he had a fondness for you that outweighed his for Sequoia.”
Aspen started laughing. “That trick you do of reading people is impressive. And almost correct. But you know you could just ask, us being friends and all that,” he cooed with a wink.
“Julian and I were close. But we had very different views of the school—of magick. Our fights were academic in nature. He was always too easy on Sequoia—too friendly. He coddled her, but I didn’t. I never stopped believing she was more capable than people believed her to be. If we could have put aside our academic differences . . .” He smoothed out his hair with his fingertips and continued. “Perhaps in another world we would have all been something more.” And for a second, I forgot he was talking about Julian.
“Is that why you were drawn to me? Because I’m like him?” I don’t know why I said it, but I wanted to know if all of this had just been because of who Julian was, not who I was. I studied Aspen’s face, searching for the truth between the spaces of his words. If Julian had left such a mark on him, if he had been the gravitational center keeping them all together . . . then where did that leave me?
I was still angry at Julian for giving up on himself like he had. He made me think of the Eight of Swords, imprisoned by a cage of his own doing. His own hubris had driven him to leave a puzzle in the wake of his death instead of fighting the Meister with the truth.
“You . . .” He paused. “You are the opposite of him—the puzzle solver to his maker. Julian was very secretive. He never let anyone get close to him. He told tall tales and dazzled everyone with stories, similar to you, but different.Youwere different. I noticed it the first time you connected with Nina, the sincerity of your shared interests, your shared admiration. Julian was a wall, but you’ve been more of a drawbridge, tethering on the verge of opening.”
“Very poetic.” I scrunched up my nose to feign my amusement. “And now I’ve let you all in,” I said.
“And now you’ve let us all in,” he echoed. When my eyes met his I was struck by the fierceness of them, the little specks of gold creating a dance of whorls and spirals in the light. They seemed to harden, the edges becoming sharper in focus. I hadn’t allowed myself to trust him, not fully, until now. This was where he proved himself or destroyed me.
“Let’s hope it’s not a mistake,” I said.
*
I could feel the vibration of the House under the footsteps of so many guests, but it was barely audible over the chatter of conversation. The posters and displays were set up in the sitting room where all the other furniture had been cleared, and the dining room table was now covered with a generous banquet—fruits and cakes of all sorts, sprinkled across the table like berry patches. The theme of this year’s Symposium was “Eternal Spring,” and a sea of violently blooming flowers covered the floors and tables from the entrance to the back hallway. The smell was intoxicatingly sweet.
I wore the only dress I owned and tucked the dahlia into my hair. The flower’s contrast with my pale skin made me think that I was almost beautiful, like Sequoia. The dress was a sleek black that cut across my shoulders and cinched at my waist. On top of it, I wore a leather harness that tied into my utility belt where all of my items could be accessed in short notice. I hitched my black socks up high and slid into my Oxfords. I did not look entirely like myself, but perhaps a more feminine version of the menswear-donning self I had been a few months ago.
But maybe that was a good thing.
I stood by my haphazardly strung together poster entitled “Parlor game turned prophecy: the theatre of Tarot.” I hadreplicated the images of several of my favorite cards and drawn arrows between ones where I connected concepts and themes. On the left panel of my trifold, I wrote out my pre-reading rituals, including the various cleanses and groundings I’d perform.
On the right side, I wrote my philosophy of reading, and how it was a collaborative, give and take, rather than a recitation. I didn’t mention Sophia or the demiurge. I held a deck of cards, my old Tarot deck from the shop, to demonstrate my methodology and give on the spot one-card readings.
My real theatrics were being saved for later that night.
“It seems like Foresyth hasn’t changed your methodology much.” The Meister smirked, scanning my presentation board at my station. Foresyth has changed a lot of my thinking but not about reading cards.
“Why fix something that isn’t broken? Pick a card,” I said, outstretching my hand.
“Indeed,” he said with a slanted eye and inched his fingers to my fanned deck I held. “Although, I do wish some of your work on the runes had made it into here.” His tone implied I was holding out on what I had learned, and it was true. Did he suspect I connected the runes to human sacrifice, and back to his own horrid practices?
“I’m not ready to present those ideas to the Council. But when I am, they’ll be the first to know,” I said.
He feathered the cards with one finger before landing on a card. He pulled it out and gave it to me, not flipping it over. “And, uh, what about our other little side project?”
I turned over the card and stared at the Five of Swords.Deception. My stomach clenched. Of all the cards, it had tobe this one. A duel with no victors. A warning, or a taunt from the universe?
My hands grew cold. He had a lot of gall bringing up Julian and his ploy to keep me here. I smiled, despite feeling like my teeth were going to fall out from clenching so hard.
“Julian died by his own hand,” I said truthfully, “I haven’t found anything that would indicate anything other than a suicide,” I said.
“Ah, well that’s good news then. I must have been wrong about the other students here.”
“I was too,” I said and meant it.
“I do hope you intend to stay, Dahlia, without the case to keep you here. You’ve made such a fine addition here,” he said, smiling wryly. I almost scoffed. Of course he didn’t intend for me to stay—he intended for me to die as his Bonder.
