The Fortune Teller(30)

But prophecies can be dangerous. The greatest prophecies have been hunted by kings and coveted for their power to bestow knowledge that does not yet exist. I won’t deny I feared what would happen if I were to commit my vision to paper, and I did not do so after we returned home. Instead, I waited.

When I emerged from the cave after seven days, Ariston rose to his feet, visibly relieved. He could tell I was altered, but he did not ask what I had seen. There was so much I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t yet. The knowledge I now possessed was too great. In that moment I didn’t know if I could ever share what I had seen. So we simply embraced and he took me home.

For several days I lived in a daze; everyone thought I was fatigued from our travels. Aella came to our home to care for me and ordered me to rest, barely letting me out of bed.

One day, after I’d begun to recover, I took out my father’s parchment and reed pen from Alexandria. I now understood why I had brought them with me. The time had come to use them.

I began to write with the greatest speed, committing my words to paper as though my pen were flying on the wings of Nike, for I have foreseen that I will not survive my child’s birth.





King of Cups

Semele clicked back to the previous page and double-checked the time line. On one page Ionna made a shocking revelation, that she would die in childbirth, and on the next she wrote of a couple journeying through the Zagros Mountains to Gundeshapur, a city founded several hundred years after Ionna’s lifetime.

Semele frowned. She must have made a mistake when she was photographing the manuscript—or worse, several pages were missing.

“Hey, you’re up early,” Bren said from the doorway.

Ignoring the crisis on her computer screen, she turned to him and tried not to look as frustrated as she felt. She didn’t want to deal with reality right now.

He leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss. “Working?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She gently pulled away. “I’ve got to have this finished before…” She trailed off.

Before what? As of yesterday she wasn’t even handling the Bossard Collection. So why did this matter? Technically it shouldn’t, but she wanted to know the rest of Ionna’s story—she needed to know why her name was in the manuscript. Deep down she knew this wasn’t a coincidence. And that was what bothered her the most.

Bren sat next to her on the couch wearing only his jeans. “Sem, last night was wicked.” He took her hand.

Semele avoided his eyes. Last night had been wicked. She had been the one at the cauldron and she had conjured up an image she wished she hadn’t seen.

She woke early that morning to find Bren asleep beside her, his leg and arm across her body like a barricade—as if even in sleep he knew the realization she had come to. The clarity of her vision last night had stunned her by showing her what was already in her heart. It felt like turning around and looking into a mirror, already knowing what she would see.

She had lain there in bed, trying to figure out what the hell to do, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Without waking Bren, she’d grabbed her robe, tiptoed from the room, and quietly shut the door behind her. After a double espresso, she returned to translating. Even after everything that had happened last night, Ionna still had her undivided attention.

She tugged her hand away. “I need to go to the office.”

Bren gave her a searching look. “You’re acting weird. You know that, right?”

She gave a weak nod.

“Why?” The hurt in his voice made her wince. “It’s me.”

“I know. I just…”

“Just what? Talk to me.”

How could she tell him there was a ticking clock on their relationship, that they weren’t going to last?

“Sorry, I’m really stressed over work.”

“Of course.” Bren threw his hands up in surrender. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard this excuse. He tried switching to a brighter tone. “Just don’t forget about the dinner tonight with my folks. I was thinking I’d come by at seven. The reservation is at seven thirty.”

Her heart sank. She’d forgotten that his parents were in town from Florida for the week. It was their first time visiting Bren since he and Semele had started dating, and she knew he was excited to introduce her. She couldn’t fathom the idea of spending an evening with them now.

“Bren, I’m too tied up with this deadline to make the dinner.”

A range of expressions played across his face. “You’re kidding. My parents have been looking forward to meeting you for months.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I really am, but it’s a bad time.”

Bren stormed into the bedroom and came back with his shirt. He dressed rapidly and grabbed his wallet and keys off the table.

“Don’t be mad,” she pleaded.

“Don’t be mad? What the hell, Sem?”

Her eyes welled with tears. God, she hated this. The truth was that even if she hadn’t seen his future without her in it, she and Bren would still be standing at opposite ends of the room, a gulf between them.

“Did you meet someone in Switzerland?” he demanded. “Is that what’s going on here?”

Semele hesitated. Theo wasn’t the reason.

“Because ever since you came back it’s like you’re a different person.”