Verum (The Nocte Trilogy, #2)(30)

My head snaps up. “And that one means?”

Sabine looks back at the table. “It’s self-explanatory.”

Heat flushes my cheeks and I drum my hand against my leg. “That one must be a mistake.”

“I don’t make mistakes,” she answers. “Use care with him, child. He’s a good boy, but he’ll be your ruin.”

A flash of white hot fire rages through my gut in surprise. He’ll be my ruin? How overly dramatic.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I deny, knowing full well who she means. She glances at me but for a second.

“Of course you do,” she murmurs, but she doesn’t say anything more because her attention is already on to the last card, and I only get a brief glance at a black skull before she very quickly flips it over.

“What was that?” I ask her curiously, but when I look at her expression, my stomach sinks. She looks positively stricken.

“It’s nothing.”

But it was very definitely something. The calm old woman is visibly shaken as she clears the cards and straightens them into a pile before putting them into a drawer.

“Come back next week,” she suggests, her voice thin. “We’ll read them again, child. Your tarot can change.”

She sounds almost hopeful that it will.

Curious.

I leave Sabine to her room, and return to my own. Booting up my laptop, I can’t help but do a search for tarot cards, so that I can find out what that last mysterious card meant.

It’s only a matter of minutes before I find a similar card, a muted one with a dark skull in a black hood.

My heart quickens when I read the meaning.

It’s the Death card.





Chapter 15





There are a million clocks.

They cover all the walls and they’re all tickingtickingtickingticking. I cover my ears and spin around, trying to get away from the ticking, trying to get away from all of the hands and minutes and seconds. But there aren’t any doors. There’s no way out. I don’t know where I am, I only know that time is my enemy and the clocks are taunting me.

And then the clocks all turn into Dare’s face. His smile is mocking me, and it is replicated a million times, and then there is his voice.

“Ask me, Calla Lily.”

“I can’t,” I tell him. “I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he answers. “I’m not the enemy. Time is.”

“How do I get out?” I ask him, running from corner to corner.

“You’re the only one who knows,” he laughs. “What a silly question.”

His laughter echoes and I startle awake.

It takes a minute to digest the dream, to come to terms with the fact that somehow, I was running from time.

How strange.

I can’t go back to sleep, so I get dressed early and head to the dining room for breakfast. I expect to find it empty, so I’m unpleasantly surprised to find Eleanor already there.

She nods at me from the head of the table.

“Good morning,” I tell her politely as I sit down.

“Is it?” she butters her croissant. I’m not surprised. Honestly, I would expect nothing less from Eleanor than her questioning how good a day will be before it even happens yet.

Before I can think of a good answer, Dare’s voice fills the room.

“Good morning.” He’s got a baritone voice. I soak in it before I answer.

“Is it?”

I keep my voice droll, and Dare lifts an eyebrow as he sits across from me, in the place designated to him by Eleanor.

“Maybe it will be,” he tells me. “Who knows?”

When I look at him now, I don’t just see his chiseled jaw and handsome face. I see forbidden fruit. Someone I love, but someone I know I shouldn’t…for reasons unknown.

That boy will be your ruin.

Lord have mercy. I take a bite of fruit, trying not to dwell on how he’s been in my dreams lately. No one needs to know that but me.

He sips at coffee and Eleanor surprises us by addressing him.

“Have you been riding lately, Adair?”

Dare slowly turns his gaze toward her, very obviously reluctant.

“No, it’s never been my cup of tea. Why?”

She stares down her nose disapprovingly at him.

“Your mother liked for you to ride.”

Dare swallows his coffee and fixes his dark gaze grimly on the Savage matriarch.

“No, Richard liked for me to ride. My mother liked for us to please him.”

He sounds disgusted by that, and by my uncle, too. It sends my thoughts spiraling. What exactly did Richard do to him?

“Well, either way. I know that Calla doesn’t know how to ride, and I’d like for you to teach her. Educated young ladies should have that skill.”

I practically swallow my grape whole.

“That won’t be necessary,” I choke. “I don’t need to learn.”

“Of course you do,” Eleanor counters, and I can see that there will be no arguing.

She stands up and pushes her chair back, and the conversation is over. Clearly, I’ll learn to ride and Finn won’t, because that’s how Eleanor wants it.