He nodded slightly to Devon, who rubbed his thumb along Charity’s finger, his version of elated. Charity stopped herself from beaming in pride—she’d ruin Devon’s confident nonchalance.
“Now. Charity. There is something I must speak with you about.” The Second—her dad! When would she start thinking of him as her father?—paused for a moment, and Andy leaned forward to get up. Devon looked over at her.
Ah, apparently her father was asking to speak with her alone. She barely stopped herself from groaning. That meant more lessons in business, or etiquette, or some other thing she didn’t feel like learning. When did the workday end around here?
“Andy, why don’t you get us some tea?” the Second said. “Devon, would you mind popping outside and asking Halvor to arrange snacks for two more?”
Andy rose without a customary “yup!” Devon squeezed Charity’s hand before stepping outside.Chapter Thirty-One“Despite the fact that it’s against custom,” the Second said once they were alone, “I am willing to allow your friends to stay, provided you won’t be embarrassed…”
He was communicating without words again. She rubbed her temple. “You probably need them here just to translate half of your silences.”
He laughed. “Use your words,” he murmured. “Quite right, yes.”
Andy stuck his head from around the corner too soon for him to have finished his task.
“What kind of tea are we thinking?” Andy asked in a small voice unlike him. “There are…like, eight hundred kinds.”
“Oh, something floral, I should think,” the Second said loftily. “A day like today calls for it.”
“Is today somehow different from other days?” Charity asked.
“Of course. You’ll see the changes, in time. It’s a lovely early summer day. The most fragrant of flowers bloom at this time of year. I am in high demand.”
“Right. I remember, because you’re the village gardener.”
“The gardening architect, we call it. I design and implement the natural places within the village, a skill set I am most proficient at, as I said. The actual planting and day-to-day management of the gardens are left to those with lesser, though still incredibly useful, skill sets.” He paused as Devon returned and reclaimed his seat. “I was blessed to have a skill in such high demand. I mean…everyone needs gardens! What would we do without a place to sit and reflect?”
Charity nodded politely as Andy returned with a porcelain tea set, elegant blue flowers crawling up the sides of the cups. He set it on the coffee table, then stared at it helplessly.
“Maybe you would be more comfortable asking Kairi or Hallen to come in and pour?” the Second suggested.
“I’ll ask Kairi,” Andy said, heading for the door.
The Second—her dad—refocused on Charity. “And that is what I wished to speak with you of.” He paused again.
“He’s wondering if you’re comfortable sharing confidences with me and Andy,” Devon murmured.
“Oh. Yes, it’s fine,” she said as Andy re-entered, followed by a delighted Kairi.
“Now, to gain your title of Third Arcana of the Flush,” the Second began, “you must prove your rightful place. As we discussed earlier today, it is widely agreed that your quest has already been established.”
A tingle of fear worked up Charity’s spine. She hadn’t known what had shocked her more, that the hallucination she’d had in the dingy hotel suite was related to her “quest,” and apparently a glimpse at her future, or that the crazy woman with red hair had seen the same thing and told everyone about it before they’d even met Charity. She’d had the details perfect, even down to the blurry people to the right and left.
The whole idea was ludicrous. Charity leading Roger into battle? Charity deciding the victor? She’d only ever looked out for herself, and now she was supposed to stand at the head of an army of shifters and fae? Not likely.
The only thing that stopped her from discounting the whole thing was Vlad. It seemed inevitable that she would face him again in battle. And apparently Lucifer was after her, too. What she’d thought was another hallucination—her fighting demons in a beautiful field—had apparently happened. Devon had given her the highlights, and although he’d been strangely tight-lipped about the whole confrontation, she’d gotten the gist. Lucifer was trying to drag her down to the underworld for a meeting. Yeah, right. Now that she was actually lucid, she wouldn’t mind another crack at either of them.
Apparently, if her father and the Red Nutter could be believed, she’d get that chance. Though the First had seemed dismissive of the whole thing.
“The Red Prophet has defined your quest as life-altering. She is convinced it will affect us all, even if my mother questions the validity. If you complete it successfully…” His chest rose, and he beamed. That, she didn’t need any help interpreting. It meant he expected great things. “But if you do not, your right to the title Third Arcana of the Flush will be revoked, and you will be held in shame.”