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The reading eats away at me, my mind trying to figure out what it could mean. This place was supposed to be our happiness, our freedom, and now something looms over us.
But what?
No matter how many times I seek answers from the cards, they remain silent and steadfast. Death is coming, but that’s all they’ll tell me. Hilda reminds me that they don’t always do our bidding, that they sometimes withhold information so we can make our own choices, but we need answers. I need answers. Not knowing is half the horror.
My anxiety prevents me from sleeping, so after hours of tossing and turning, I give up and leave my tent. The town we’re in has a lush forest around it, but in the field we’re set up in, there are large oak trees. They are probably hundreds of years old, and their branches are so large, they dip down to the ground and back up, leaving nice seats the children have enjoyed during the day. Tonight, I find myself there, my fingers trailing over bark that has seen generations of people come and go. What must they have seen? I find comfort in that now. Time continues on no matter what. Even when I’m gone, this tree will stand as long as nothing comes along to chop it down. That kind of strength is beautiful, and I pull from that now, hoisting myself up on the dipping branch and straddling it. I absorb the strength beneath my fingers, needing it. If I’m stronger, perhaps the cards will give me more information.
Whose death? That’s the biggest question. Which one of us will die? Or will we all perish?
I don’t know how long I sit here, my legs dangling from the tree, my eyes focused on the leaves above my head. I can see stars through the lush foliage. The wind rustles the branches, and if I squint my eyes just right, the stars look like they are twinkling violently. It’s such a pretty sight, I don’t realize I’m not alone until a tiger leaps up on the branch beside me.
I jolt in surprise, my arms windmilling as I start to topple over backward. Before I can slide too far, however, strong arms wrap around me from behind and steady me again.
“Sorry about that.” Spade laughs. “I told her not to startle you. She doesn’t always listen.”
I blow out a puff of air and pat Freedom when she bumps her head against my shoulder. If someone would have told me that I’d have the opportunity to pet a wild animal like a house cat a few years ago, I would have called them crazy. The bond Spade and Freedom have is enviable, but she seems to enjoy my company as well. I take every opportunity to give her attention, but only when she asks for it. I’ve seen Freedom lash out at someone when they threaded their fingers into her fur and she didn’t give them permission to touch her. I have no desire to heal from claw marks.
“You couldn’t sleep?” I ask, glancing over at him as he hooks a leg over the branch beside me and takes a seat. He’s dressed in loose linen pants tonight, as if his sleep were interrupted.
“One of the horses was pregnant,” he replies. “She decided to give birth tonight, so I was helping there.”
I straighten. I hadn’t even known one of the horses was pregnant. “The baby?”
“Healthy and fine, just like its mother,” he says with a smile. “Our family grows.”
His words remind me that it may shrink again soon, and my shoulders slump. He strokes my back, offering comfort.
“What’s wrong, habibti?” he murmurs. “I checked your tent when I was returning to bed and found it empty. What’s troubling you?”
I sigh, unsure how to explain. I don’t want to worry them, especially when I don’t have any real answers myself.
“I read something in the cards,” I murmur. Freedom chooses that moment to pull away from my touch and disappear up in the branches of the large oak tree, off to explore.
“Something bad?” Spade asks, tilting his head.
I nod. “Something bad, but I have no other information so I don’t know what it really means or who the cards are talking about. All I know is something is coming.”
Spade studies me, his beautiful, light brown eyes reflecting the stars and the few lights left on at the cirque. He’s always beautiful, especially in his performance outfit, but dressed down like this, he’s even more stunning. It feels like he could sweep me away into the desert at any moment. I’d let him. I’d let all of them sweep me away to wherever they wanted to go, even hell.
He reaches up and cups my chin before stroking my jaw. “You know,” he murmurs, “when I finally made it to the cirque, it took a long time for me to stop looking over my shoulder for danger.”
“This isn’t that,” I argue. “The cards?—”
“Are not set in stone,” he interrupts. “Hilda tells me that it’s only a possibility.”
“This is different,” I rasp. “Even Hilda was afraid.”
He tilts his head. “I see, and this fear of the unknown keeps you awake.” When I nod my head, he sighs. “I understand.”
He also dropped a little hint of his past, so I can’t help but lean into his touch. “What did you look over your shoulder for?”
The branches rattle above us as Freedom treks along them, her soft chuffs echoing in the air around us. He smiles up in her direction, pleased that she’s enjoying herself.
“My foster parents,” he admits. “My situation wasn’t quite like the orphanage of the kids we saved, but it was close.” Anger filters through me, but before I can open my mouth to rant, he presses his finger to my lips. “Shh, habibti. I’ve been safe for over a decade now. This is just my history.”
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly.
“Don’t be,” he murmurs. “I enjoy your protective nature. Still, I’d like you to know where I come from.” He leans back against the branch and tugs me after him so we’re lying together on top of it. “I was born in the middle east, but I found my way into the foster system here when I was seven. My parents died from some disease that I can’t remember and there were nice, rich couples looking for charity projects. I became one of them.”
