Dante’s warnings gnawed at the edges of my mind but I ignored them. I had trusted him once, and it had nearly cost me everything.No more. I did not want to risk Verrine finding us.
“What?” Dorian’s gaze sharpened as he closed in on me. “Where? You just let him go?”
“Yes. But I know where he’s going.” I didn’t look away from Dorian. This wasn’t my fault.
“And then what? Say we find him. Say we get the deck. There’s still onlyoneresurrection card,” Dorian averred.
“I know.” I nodded, steadying myself. Maybe he was right to be angry. Our odds looked bleak. But I wasn’t about to sit back and let fear decide for me. I’d already let someone else take the lead once. Never again. “If we get the deck, Hugo can take the card and travel back under the radar. Dante said Verrine would come after us, if we left it long enough.”
“You’ve lost your damned mind.” Dorian creased his brow as he looked away. “Say she comes for us, then. I’ve only ever seen her performoneresurrection at a time. I don’t know if she can handle both of us.” He turned back to me, eyes storming.
“Let’s focus on the cards,” Hugo said steadily. It was the first time I’d seen him visibly worried. “Where’s Dante now, then?”
“He is with someone called the Dowager of Knots. That’s where the alchemist told him to go, anyway.”
“The Dowager of Knots?” Dorian spat. “Hold on. YoufoundDante already and let him slip away. Now we have to seek the Dowager, the undead witch notorious for splitting souls?”
“Do you have another plan?” I snapped, but an icy feeling spread through my chest.
“Of course not.” A wraith bowed close to Dorian, tendrils of tacky shadow drifting close to his arm. He waved it away furiously. “Fine. Let’s seek the wicked witch.”
The Dowager ruled the Dark Markets, a sliver of Avernus that felt deeper than the rest, stitched together with forgotten magic and the desperate bargains of those who’d come before us.
A poster flapped beside the entrance, half-torn andsinged at the corners. It had no words, just a crude image etched in ink, a shadowy throne. The word below it was written in Latin.Redit.
A gate of hollowed out bones marked the entrance. I tried not to stare too closely at the skulls stacked into the frame, their empty sockets seeming to watch us as we stepped inside.
The streets were narrow, lined with tents that stretched as far as the eye could see. Figures loomed behind silk-draped stalls, their eyes gleaming from beneath deep hoods.
Hugo paused over a counter of jewels, but I pulled him along. There was no time for distractions. His arm tugged lightly around my waist as we walked, drawing me close as we passed shadows that stretched unnaturally.
Beside me, Dorian moved with the ease of someone who had done this before. His eyes scanned the merchants like he was looking for a thread in a tapestry, some glimmer of the right path forward, of the right tent. He didn’t flinch at the bones or shadows. Just kept moving. It was terrifying how steady he looked here, like this world belonged to him, or he to it.
At the next stall, Dorian stopped. A hunched figure sat behind a table draped in dark velvet, their face obscured by layers of gauzy black fabric. Silver rings gleamed on gnarled fingers as they shook a stone bowl full of small bones.
“You're looking for something…” the figure rasped. “And you're willing to trade.”
Dorian hesitated for just a moment before gesturing for me to give himThe Foolcard. “Yes,” he said casually. “We are following the trail of someone who left this behind. We believe they have gone to the Dowager.”
“And what will you trade for thissliverof information?”
“The card itself,” Dorian replied firmly. The figure let out a chattering hiss, eyes widening.
“Dorian!” I shook my head hard. “You can’t trade one of thecards.” A ripple passed through the air. The cloaked tradesman stilled his shaking of the bones.
“It’s one for many. Dante himself left this behind, it can’t be worth as much as the others,” Dorian countered, but I could see the hesitation in his voice, the way it shook like he knew he couldn’t return without the entire deck.
“A dangerous thing,” the tradesman murmured. “And yet, you do not know it’s worth.” Their eyes lowered to my necklace, and then a wicked grin stretched across their face, snatching up the bones from the dish as they pointed to my chest. “That is what I wish to trade.”
“Absolutely not.” My hand gripped the pendant. My fingers went cold against it. To give it up felt like abandoning her all over again, like I did the night of the accident. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
“That isn’t for sale,” Dorian growled. “The card, or we walk.” My throat felt tight, like the chain had constricted around it. There was a long pause as the tradesman considered it.
“Dorian, we don’t know what that card means!” I bristled as the tradesman tossed the bones into the air, watching them scatter on the tablecloth. They hissed, teeth chattering.
“I do,” Dorian muttered, voice low. “And trust me, losing one to claim the rest will be worthwhile.”
“I suppose this card is no small thing.” Their gray fingers reached for the card, bones clicking. “You say you seek the Dowager of Knots, Ruler of Fates,” the figure murmured. Their fingers skimmed the surface ofThe Fool, then closed around it with a greedy finality. “Her court begins where the sea touches the ruin of the old world. The entrance is in the black tent at the end of this street.”