The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(79)

In French, I muttered to Jack, “What are we going to do?” For weeks, I’d had a bad feeling about Lorraine. Yet after using my powers last night, I could barely manage to sharpen my claws.

He answered in the same, “Kentarch and Joules will be back soon. They’ll find us gone and come after us. Just hang on.”

News of my vines must’ve spread; as the guards had escorted us across the settlement, people had begun to gather outside the yacht, whispering and pointing at me. I’d heard the word witch a few times.

On board, we passed one stateroom after another, trudging across plush carpet toward the bow. Soft floor lighting guided the way, and warm air blew from the vents. I made out the faint hum of generators. Must be nice.

Cleanliness and order marked every inch, which made me doubt my suspicions about the Ciborium. How could villains have a lair like this?

I was used to subterranean dens—not rock-star megayachts. I’d descended into the Hermit’s laboratory, the Hierophant’s pantry, and the Lovers’ shrine. Again and again, I’d emerged to the surface and lived. Like a plant.

Would we survive this next trial?

We passed the exit that led to the plank. The two spotlighted masts cast shadows inside. I held my breath as they wavered over us.

The guards forced us into an opulent ballroom, our steps loud. Chandeliers hung from exposed rafters, shimmering light across the empty space. A grand staircase curved from a balcony to the gleaming dance floor.

Atop a dais, Lorraine sat on that seashell-covered throne, more of her guards flanking her. Imperious in another silver dress, she’d braided her long brunette hair over one shoulder. Up this close, I saw her irises were so light a brown, they looked yellowish.

“Welcome to our court, my dear ones,” she greeted us in her soft, singsong voice. An ornate gold chalice sat on one throne arm. On the other arm lay a jewel-encrusted blade.

Jack demanded, “What do you want with us?”

Ignoring him, she turned to me. “We had a little time before we send up our next flare to the faithful awaiting on the coast, and I wanted to meet the Empress in person.”

I jolted at her casual mention of my title. “How did you know?”

With a dreamy expression, she said, “How could I not? I’m an Arcana.”

I shared a shocked look with Jack as comprehension sunk in. Lorraine. La Reine. The queen. My gaze flitted to the chalice beside her. “You’re the Queen of Cups.” One of the two Minor Arcana my grandmother had specifically warned me about.

Why hadn’t I put this together before? This ship’s name—the Calices—was French for Chalices.

There were thirteen guards with armbands. Lorraine would make fourteen. “The entire suit of Cups is here.”

“Correct, Empress.”

Circe had said she’d found a suit on the coast. Bingo.

I’d learned that Major Arcana rarely encountered the Minors, but when we did . . . not good news. My grandmother’s words: They can be as dangerous as Major Arcana. Especially the court cards.

Matthew had told me they watched us, plotting against us. Had that been what I’d sensed out on the road?

So what would Lorraine do now? “How did you recognize me?”

“Not easily. You look nothing like the Empress of old.”

For now. “Why have you forced us here? You can’t harm a Major Arcana.”

She smiled sweetly, but her face resembled a mask. Now that I knew what to look for, I could see the cracks in the surface, the danger lurking beneath—like that trench on a calm day. Give it time. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Though I do feel I should remind you that you can’t aggress against us either. Else risk punishment.”

“That depends on whether you’ll let us go.”

“Oh, we can’t harm you—but your handsome companion doesn’t warrant such consideration.” Two of the guards seized Jack’s arms. “A shame, since the Cajun is my ace salvager.”

As he struggled against them, I said, “You do not want to hurt him.” I had steel in my tone—as if I were still the great and powerful Empress. In reality, I needed help. Would Kentarch and Joules come for us?

“Relax, Empress. If you cooperate, the Cajun will emerge from this ship unscathed. You both will.”

At that, Jack stopped resisting.

Wary, I asked her, “Where’s the King of Cups? Shouldn’t a Major Arcana like myself be negotiating with the man in charge?”

She gave a negligent flick of her hand in one guard’s direction. “That’s him.” An older man with salt-and-pepper hair bowed to her. “But we’re the Queendom. It works best that way.”

Damn. I hate that I like that. “Where have the Minors been?”

“We watch. We endure. We prepare for the future. One day this game will end, and we’ll be ready.”

“Do you have powers like the Majors?”

“We all have sharply honed instincts. We knew how to survive the Flash and avoid the plague-stricken. And each suit has a specific talent.”

“What’s yours?” I asked, casting my mind back to some of Gran’s mad ramblings. Hadn’t she made a strange comment about the Cups and . . . blood?

Lorraine ran her finger over the rim of the chalice. “Soon I will demonstrate it for you.”