She must have sensed me or heard my faint call; her lids fluttered open, and her gaze landed on me. Recognition.
In her, I recognized the girl I’d first met millennia ago. She tried to say something. Failed. Her tiny form tensed with frustration.
She pursed her lips, then mentally called —Can you hear me?—
I nodded.
A hint of a smile. —We haven’t spoken like this in so long. I’ve missed you.—
“I missed Evie.” Talking was difficult. My heart hurt all the time. It wanted to rest.
—Oh, Matthew, I still see in you the boy you used to be.—
“You are the Empress.” Her face changed from game to game and year to year, but her eyes stayed the same.
She started to cough. I offered her the glass of water from her bedstand, but she shook her head.
—I haven’t seen you in person since I left Fort Arcana all those years ago. You had a single tear streaking down your cheek, and I was so worried about you! But Aric told me, “He’ll find you when you least expect it.” How right he was. What have you been doing?—
“Spreading the good word.” For decades I’d traveled with the Wands, but I’d parted ways with them once they knew everything they needed to know. They were Wise. Their descendants would be Wise. They would rule as they should.
And me? The straight line . . .
—Please, come closer.— When I stepped into the low light, she sucked in a breath, and her eyes watered. —You’re in even more pain than I am.—
In a way, I was. I was, in a way.
—Come closer. Come.—
With great effort, I lay beside her on the bed and waited for her to strike. I’d arrived here determined, but my stomach churned. What finality this course would bring.
—That’s it.— Her voice was soothing, even as she frantically tried to muster poison in her claws, just one last time. —We used to lie like this when out on the road with Jack and Selena. Do you remember that, sweetheart?—
I nodded with difficulty. “I do. Knowledge is my burden. I have only ever tried. I won’t fail you.”
Perspiration dotted her brow as she struggled to make her claws work. She inwardly cursed her weakness. She was also angry because she’d thought no one could compel her to play the game again—yet right at the end, the gods had forced her back into it. Just as Tredici had warned her.
But she would do anything to spare me the lonely road of immortality. She would suffer, so I did not.
Her loyalty . . . incandescent.
Lifetimes ago I had foreseen this brilliant beacon—this very moment—and I had loved her ever since.
My friend.
I heard her hectic thoughts: —One last strike, one last kill, let me end this!— She would, in a way. In a way, she would.
She didn’t realize that in calling upon her power, she would . . . expire.
I understood. I understood everything. I would teeter on the very brink of dying for centuries.
—Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doing!— She coughed again. When her icons started to transfer from her hands, she cried —No, no, you’re all alone.— Her worst fear. —This is my burden to bear. Not yours!—
Tingling. New markings on my baggy skin. “I wear them once more. The markings must be earned. By me.” I stroked her cheek with my shaking hand. “I vowed never to win again; you’ll forgive me.”
—I never meant for this to happen!— Her coughing worsened. —Oh, God, I’ve damned you.— The lights in the room grew dimmer for her.
As Evie passed from this life, she heard me whisper, “Matthew knows best.”
58
Ivy Lierre, Potential Empress
Year 800 N.D.
Breathe, I told myself as I hurried out of Haven House. Just breathe.
The urge to run to the cane nearly overpowered me, but I kept my pace even. I sensed their gazes on me from the old manor house, and not just Mom’s at the kitchen window. The Wise Mothers watched, were always watching. They’d just finished questioning me yet again to determine whether I was the next Empress.
For centuries, the descendants of the Wands had been awaiting the return of the Major Arcana. Of all the branches of Evie Greene Domīnija Deveaux’s many lines, only one had generations of daughters only. The Wise Mothers had noted that and installed me and Mom at Haven years ago.
Lately they’d sensed that the game was about to start, so they’d sent a delegation here. That group of eight Wands was studying my speech and analyzing my mannerisms for similarities to the last Empress. And so many questions . . .
Have you had any strange dreams? Weren’t all dreams strange?
Do you long for Death or Jack Deveaux? I mean, from what I’d read—and I knew the Empress’s chronicles up and down—they sounded nice enough.
Have you had any show of powers? No. Not one.
On my way to the cane, I meandered through the laundry fluttering in the wind. I’d read about machines in the past that washed and dried clothes, but the idea seemed too fantastical.
Though some people wanted to bring back technology, the Wise Mothers and the regional governors had forbidden it, decreeing, “If a child abuses a privilege, you take it away.”
When I reached the rows of green stalks, I sighed with relief, skimming my fingers over the leaves. Mom wanted me to be on my best behavior with the Wands, but I struggled to conform. Always had. Sometimes I felt as if I were truly the Empress, a grown woman, a mother to several children.
In which case, to hell with all the constraints my own mother had placed on me! I glanced around guiltily, as if someone might hear my thoughts.
Other times, I felt like I was just a girl named Ivy.
Though I was eighteen, older than the Empress had been at the start of the last game, I had things in common with her. Both our fathers had died when we were young. Both of our mothers were strict.
All winter, Mom and I had been fighting. After she’d caught me sneaking out and breaking into the Arcana museum after hours, she’d put me on indefinite restriction. But the other night I’d climbed out of my window to meet friends in town, even though things were getting a little crazy in Acadi.
Tonight marked the eight hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Lethe, when the Empress had forgone victory in order to save the world. When the great Chariot had made it all possible with his last fateful trip. When their Arcana alliance had ended an apocalypse.
We knew from Death’s chronicles that no interim between the games had stretched this long. Did that mean we were safe from another Flash?
Or overdue for one?
After so many centuries of peace and prosperity, folks were getting scared.
Speaking of scared . . . I frowned, still spooked by my weird encounter the other night, when an ancient, gray-haired man in old-fashioned clothes had stopped short and stared at me as if he’d seen a ghost. Then he’d shuffled after me and my friends, muttering, “The End is beginning. . . .”
Clearly a Fool wannabe messing with me, probably drawn here like so many by the celebrations. Though he’d looked like he might keel over at any second, I’d kept my hand near my ever-present knife in my sheath. And I hadn’t gone back to town since. . . .