Page 61 of Ruling Destiny

I watch as her entire face brightens. Having expertly led me to this point, now’s her chance to reveal something she’s convinced I don’t know, and Elodie loves nothing more. “That exact area, where the crystal sphere once stood and whereThe Magiciannow stands—” Her gaze hardens on mine. “It’s where the first time portal was discovered.”

“I thought that was the light—” I start, but Elodie’s already shaking her head.

“The lighthouse was thesecondportal they found.”

My gaze wanders to the far side of the room as I remember how Braxton told me about the missing lighthouse keepers, and how the local authorities, left with no clues and not wanting to alarm anyone, concluded they all jumped to their deaths as the result of loneliness, the cold, and the general austerity of living alone on the rock. Never mind that none of them left a note and not a single body ever washed ashore. It’s how Arthur purchased the island for so cheap. No one wanted anything to do with a place that was cursed.

The problem was, while the energy needed for Tripping was there, they had no way to control where and when you went, much less how to find your way back. So Arthur and his team set to work, determined to harness that energy so they could use it for their own gain.

“The energy was too erratic,” Elodie continues. “And Arthur, not wanting to risk anyone else getting lost, decided to tear it down and had the garden built in its place.”

“But wasn’t that dangerous, too?” I ask. “I mean, what about the workers who constructed it, and—”

“What about them?” Elodie shrugs. “It’s only on certain days that those lighthouse keepers disappeared. The conditions have to be just right. And, lucky for you, they weren’t the right conditions today, or else you wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

I stare at Elodie. Part of me wants to believe she’s just being her usual theatrical self, while the other part fears she might be telling the truth.

Still, I say, “If it’s really that dangerous, then why doesn’t Arthur fence it off?”

Elodie laughs. “ThatisArthur’s version of fencing it off. It’s not like he expected anyone to go crawling about a piece of treasured art. I mean, seriously, Nat. It’s so disrespectful.” She shakes her head, clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Anyway,” she goes on. “Do you remember what the artist, Niki de Saint Phalle, said about the Magician?”

“She called him the great Trickster,” I say, remembering a book I once read. “The card of God, the creator of the universe, that sort of thing.”

Elodie gives an excited nod. Our shared love of art was the one thing we had in common—other than our love of fashion and ditching school. “It’s the card of active intelligence, pure light, pure energy, mischief, and creation.” Elodie grins. “And yet, as I watched you trying to climb insideThe Magician’s mouth, I wondered if maybe you knew, and that you wanted to disappear.”

“I wasn’tclimbing inside.” I roll my eyes. “I was trying to—”

Elodie lifts a hand, cutting me off. “Whatever it is you think you’re looking for, you’ll never find it in there. Nothing stays insideThe Magicianfor long.”

And that’s when it hits me—either the book was there but I missed my chance, or that note wasn’t leading me to the book at all—it was leading me to the gateway that’ll fling me right out of this place to God knows where.

Is that what happened to Song?

Did she know aboutThe Magicianand so she chose to disappear?

Or was she led there, in the same way someone tried to lead me?

When my gaze meets Elodie’s, my blood runs ice-cold.

“Be careful where you wander,” she says. “And who you wander with. You may not find your way back.”

A look passes between us. And deciding to finally just get it out in the open, I say, “Which leaves me to wonder why you showed up to stop me.”

Elodie blinks. Once. Twice. A little too rapidly, though her expression stays locked in neutral, giving nothing away.

“It would’ve been so easy, right?” I rock my chair forward. “No one would ever know, and they’d never think to blame you.”

Elodie clings to the quiet for a painfully long beat. Finally breaking the silence, she says, “After all we’ve been through—and you still think the worst of me.” She shakes her head as though saddened by the thought. And yeah, maybe she did save me yesterday—twice, actually. But I can’t afford to forget how she framed me for a crime I didn’t commit, which resulted in me getting tossed in jail and ending up here.

“Did you ever stop and think that maybe it’sbecauseof everything we’ve been through—everythingyouput me through—that it’s hard for me to trust you?”

She huffs a dramatic sigh, and for a moment, the arrogant roll of her eyes reminds me of the Elodie I knew back in our old school. Or rather,myold school. Elodie was always more of a tourist, an interloper, some glittering star shooting through campus long enough to dazzle us commoners before blasting off to better horizons.

“While I get that you have a low opinion of me,” Elodie starts, “and while there’s not much I can do to change that, please know this much at least: yes, sometimes I get jealous of the attention Arthur lavishes on you. He’s like a dad to me, and maybe I’ve enjoyed favorite-child status for too long, which has made it hard to share.” Her gaze holds on mine. And while it’s a heartfelt admission, it’s nothing I didn’t already know. “But that doesn’t mean I’m actively trying to sabotage you.”

“So…you’repassivelytrying to sabotage me?” I shouldn’t have said it. It was a childish, knee-jerk reaction. And when she shakes her head and frowns, it’s not like I blame her.

“Look,” she says. “You said it yourself. If I truly wanted to get rid of you, then I would’ve just left you on the ground yesterday. But I didn’t.”

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