CHAPTER I
The fortune-teller surveyed me with a watchful expression as her deft hands shuffled the pack of cards. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were soft, but the way she examined my disguise, as if she could see right through it, still sent a shiver down my spine. Despite the fire crackling in the hearth, cold permeated the low-ceilinged room, and I tightened my plain borrowed coat around my chest.
“What do you want to know, child?”
An encouraging smile stretched the lines on her thin face, and she handed the deck to her assistant. Warm amber light shimmered off the cards when the woman, as wrinkled and stooped as the seer, displayed them facedown on the worn wooden table.
“Well?”
Her gentle voice and calm demeanor were meant to put me at ease, but I shifted my weight in my seat, reconsidering my decision to come here. The rickety chair creaked, and I cast a nervous glance around the dark corners of the one-room flat. The pale dawn that filtered through the dirty square windowpanes brought very little light to my surroundings, while the single candle lit on the table cast shadows along the dried herbs hanging from the rafters and the jars and clay bowls on the shelves.
“You’re safe here, child,” the seer said, guessing my thoughts. “Now, why have you come?”
I tilted my head to the side. By now, she’d likely surmised my clothes were borrowed and the name I had given upon my arrival was a false one. Despite my efforts to hide my true station, she’d also likely noticed the shiny gloss of my hair beneath my simple plait, the healthy complexion of my skin, and the delicacy of my hands under the grime I had scrubbed into them. Truth was in the details, and I feared there was no denying what I was—a noble girl alone in the seediest part of the French capital at an ungodly hour of the day, in a magicienne’s lodging, no less.
I sprang to my feet, my heartbeat quickening. What was I thinking? This had been a mistake. There were magicians and seers at court. I didn’t need to be here. I shouldn’t be here. The risk of discovery was too great. Reputations had been ruined for far less than this. But then, my good name would be the least of my concerns if this woman chose to tell her neighbors and acquaintances about me. I could very well not make it back home alive at all.
My feet had taken me to the door when the woman’s quiet voice rose behind me.
“Today is a most significant day, isn’t it?”
I bit my lip, my bare hand hovering above the lock.
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she added.
She was right, of course, but it was easy to guess. Despite her reputation as the most talented fortune-teller in Paris, a lady in my position wouldn’t have risked visiting her in this part of the city if not for a great motive. I glanced back at her, and she motioned to my empty seat.
“Let me help you, my dear.”
I let a couple of seconds tick by. The aromas of rosemary and thyme mixed in the air, along with a more heady scent I couldn’t place. From the street below and the building around us, what little sound reached us was strangely muffled. One could have thought this strange small room was out of time and place.
It seemed silly to run home without answers after all the trouble of coming here in the first place. And this soft-spoken woman and her quiet assistant did appear harmless. I took a deep breath along with my decision. Magic glowed golden in the old seer’s irises. She couldn’t know it, but thanks to my own condition, I knew she was the magicienne she claimed to be. So I would stay and see if she deserved her reputation.
“I want you to tell me about my past.” I sat down again. She nodded, but I went on before she could reply. “And about my present. And about my future.” It was my turn to fix her with narrowed eyes, waiting for her reaction.
Her serene expression didn’t waver under my scrutiny. “Pick a card, then.”
Careful not to touch any, I pointed at one in the middle of the displayed pack. She nodded at her assistant, and in a well-practiced move, they pulled out the card together.
“Révèle,” the assistant said.
Since the dawn of time, magic has required three components: a wielder—in France we called them magiciens; a conduit—in this case, a deck of cards; and a Source. The seer’s assistant was her Source. Magiciens had the power to wield magic, though they didn’t have magic themselves. Sources did, but they couldn’t use it. Neither could exercise their power without the other: God’s or nature’s way of keeping both gifts in check.
When both women set the card faceup, more light rippled along its surface. I had expected tarot cards, but it was a simple pack of playing cards, worn and yellowish. The card I had picked was the king of hearts. The fortune-teller shot me an impressed look.
“This is the card about your past. A king.” She was fishing for a reaction, but I knew better than to give her the answers I sought myself. I kept my face expressionless. “You have a king as a family member,” she added, to my surprise. I couldn’t help my eyes widening at her insight, but I didn’t reply. Maybe it was a lucky guess. A lot of courtiers could claim to be distant relatives of the king after all. She studied me for a heartbeat, then waved at the face-down cards. “Another.”
I gestured toward the right end of the fanned-out cards. The two women repeated their little ritual and revealed the king of spades. The seer’s brow furrowed.
“And you have a king in your present. A foreigner.” This time the look she gave me was overtly questioning, and even her Source’s face, impassive until now, betrayed interest.
My heart beat harder. Were they playing me? Had the magicienne recognized me and was she telling me what she already knew?
“What about my future?” I asked, my tone clipped.
If she’d guessed my identity, she knew playing tricks with me wouldn’t end well for her. I pointed at a card at random, and light gleamed off it when both women flipped it. King of diamonds.
The seer gasped. “Who are you, child?”
So she didn’t know. She exchanged a glance with her Source, but I ignored the fright in their eyes.
“What about my future?” I repeated.
With trembling hands, she lined the three cards on the table. “There’s a king in your future as well.”
I leaned in to catch her gaze. “Which one? And how will he impact my life?” I had to know. This was too important.
But she shook her head, distress crossing her features at the intensity of my question. “I don’t know, my dear. There’s so much power surrounding you, I can’t tell, I’m sorry. Maybe if you told me who you are, I—”
I huffed a frustrated sigh. This was a waste of time. “I was told you were the best seer in Paris.” I gestured at the cards. “The best seer in all of France, save for the Crown Magicien himself. Yet this is all you can tell me?”
“The cards’ meaning isn’t always clear.”
Her apologetic answer made my temper rise. Her magic was genuine. Her reputation reached even the French court. Yet she couldn’t give me the answers I sought. I pressed my palms onto the table. Already the light in the cards—witness to the power the Source had infused them with—was fading.
“But you’re right,” I said. “I do have a king in my past, one in my present, and one in my future. I know my fate is linked to theirs. I’ve always known that, believe me. What I came here to know—what I want you to tell me—is what it means for me.”