Home > From The Grave (The Arcana Chronicles #6)(77)

From The Grave (The Arcana Chronicles #6)(77)
Author: Kresley Cole

Dusk approached before the delegation filed out of the house toward a carriage that would take them to the temple for tonight’s anniversary ceremony.

Finally! I gave it a couple more minutes once they were gone, then made my way back to the house. I slipped inside—no sign of Mom—then up the stairs to my room to get dressed.

I closed the door behind me and released a pent-up breath—

Someone was in my bed! My eyes went wide. The creepy old man!

I drew my knife, but he murmured, “Tired, Empress.”

“I-I’m not the Empress. Why are you in my bed?” He lay under the covers, had made himself at home.

Though his voice was weak, exasperation laced his tone when he repeated, “Tired.” As if I was asking him silly questions. “You still listen poorly.”

“Okay, why not rest in your bed?” Maybe I should have been scared, but it wasn’t like he could geriatric me to death. Pity welled in me, and I sheathed my blade. “I need to get you a doctor.”

He shook his head. “No doctor.”

“You look like you’re at death’s door.”

He nodded somberly. “At Death’s door.” Some dying old man was in my bed. My mom was going to have a fit. I’d done my fair share to keep myself in trouble lately, but this predicament wasn’t my fault!

He shivered. “Cold.”

A sense of protectiveness flooded me, and I muttered, “Fine . . .” I brought over an extra quilt to toss over him. “I’ll get you some water, but then I’m going for help.”

I poured a cup from the pitcher on my dresser. As I gazed at the mirror, a dreamy feeling descended upon me. I had the sense that I’d cared for someone at Haven. But it’d only been my mom and me since I was a baby, and she’d never been sick a day in her life.

A thought whispered through my mind: We were both actors in our roles.

Weird.

I brought the cup to him in the bed. He clasped it between two hands to drink like a little kid, and I found my lips curving. He was cute for an old guy. Like a puppy—

Wait. Were those tattoos on his wrinkled hands?

No. Not tattoos.

Icons.

“Oh, my gods, you’re the actual Fool!” The winner of the last game. No one had seen him in forever. Some even doubted his existence—as if the whole game had been made-up.

“And you’re the Empress.”

No longer could I wave away his words. “I’m in her line, but I don’t have powers. Surely you’ve got the wrong girl.”

With difficulty, he set the cup on my bedstand. “Empress has a sense of humor.”

Sudden pressure swelled inside my head, my temples beginning to throb. I closed my stinging eyes against waves of dizziness. My body shook as memories filled my mind.

Claw thorns. Deadly powers. A heart split in two by Jack and Aric.

My breaths shallowed when I recalled my children—babies teething, first steps, their heartbreaks and joys.

I rocked on my feet as recognition took hold. Oh, dear God, I was Evangeline, the Empress of Arcana. Reincarnated for the next game.

My life as Ivy subsided to memory, my girlish worries vanishing. “I-I remember, Matthew!” My friend was here before me. “I am Evie—I remember everything. Circe’s spell is working.”

Pained nod.

Which meant Aric’s reincarnation would also be remembering me soon, if he hadn’t already.

My excitement disappeared as I gazed at Matthew’s face. While I had been reborn into youth, he was dying. In my past life, I must have beaten him by moments. Then he’d been trapped like this.

Did that mean he would restart his mortality for this game with only scant time left?

Tears flowed as the full impact of what he’d done hit me. “You freed me from misery. You returned to my deathbed, just to take on immortality. These peaceful centuries were because of you. You affected everything.”

“Everything.”

I gave a choked laugh through tears. “I’ve missed you so much.” I sat beside him and took his hand.

“I kept you in mind.” He gazed at me with his solemn brown eyes. “Helped people hope. Evangeline means to spread good tidings.” He reached up and stroked my cheek as he had when I’d died.

As the memory of my death flared brighter, I grieved my family, my children, the men I’d loved. And now I was about to lose Matthew too. He couldn’t disguise his pain.

He’d suffered it for the better part of a millennium. “What can I do to help you?”

“Not much time.”

“In town, you said that the End was beginning.” Anxiety gripped me, and I dried my tears. “A new game is about to start, isn’t it? Some catastrophe’s coming, and we need to be ready.” Again.

I did a mental inventory of my powers. Nothing yet. I had no body vines or glyphs. No thorn claws, just pink nails. “How will I find Death and our Arcana allies?”

“Tredici returns. I shepherded allies to you, now and forever. Look for them on the morning tide at the big port.”

Aric was about to be returned to me! But greedy Evie wanted even more. “Allies like Jack?” Would he be reincarnated as a Minor?

“Not Arcana. Just extraordinary.” Matthew’s brows furrowed. “I should have said good-bye to him.”

As Jack and I had suspected, we’d had just one shot together. Despair washed over me, but I tried to bury it for now. I needed to prepare for the next disaster—and for my enemies. “What about Richter and Zara?” Not to mention the other foes we’d defeated.

“No Arcana arsenals anymore.”

Huh? “The cards don’t have powers?” Then Aric wouldn’t kill through his touch! “Wait, how will we fight with no abilities?”

“Endgame. I end the game.”

I swallowed. “Then I’m . . . a normal girl? It’s over?”

“Forever.” Looking exhausted, he said, “I carry the memory of you.”

He’d told me this before. On his card, he carried a white rose, one of my symbols. I had the impulse to grow him one, but couldn’t. “Why would the gods do this? They’d demanded a sacrifice, but they didn’t accept ours. And what will happen to you now?”

He stared into my eyes with endless trust. “Last stop.”

I couldn’t catch my breath as the mystery unraveled. He was the only Arcana who hadn’t been reborn into this age to live in peace. “We had to get the gods’ attention, then offer up something that would be dearly missed,” I said, my voice breaking. “You got it through centuries of suffering, and now your death is the sacrifice.”

“Final death. Atone.”

My tears started anew. “Oh, Matthew. You knew this would happen. You predicted this.”

He’d foreseen a straight line through to the future. And he was the endpoint.

“I stepped off the carousel. The last Matthew.”

He was talking about reincarnation. He would never be reborn again. “You planned everything.” He’d saved the world from another game, from another disaster that might have wiped us out.

“Matthew knew best.” Past tense.

He’d given us a gift from his heart, one that could never be equaled.

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