Page 30 of A Waltz with Lord Death
A gentle touch on his elbow didn’t startle him, but he continued to watch the waves breaking against the rocks rather than turn to look at his friend.
“We used to come here a lot,” he said. “Me and Barret. He always said he liked the way the cliffs helped him think. This was where he told me he wanted to marry you. But he wanted to be certain you wanted it, too.”
“I did,” she sniffed. “I do. I wish I’d had the chance to tell him yes.”
Finally, he turned to find tears trailing down Time’s cheeks. “What are we going to do, Betha? How much longer can you hold Barret in that capsule?”
When she shook her head, several tears flew from the curve of her chin. “Every day I keep him, my power grows weaker. I cannot hold him for much longer. I do not dare hope for several more weeks.” She wiped the tears from her face, but they still kept coming. “I am desperate. I will speak to Meira and try to get her to change her mind. If you think Life’s power might accept her, then we must try.”
“Good luck,” he whispered, his voice constricted by the emotion gathered in his throat. “I hope you find more success than I have.”
Chapter 13
Meira flipped the tarot cards over from left to right, doing it slowly to draw out the tension. The man sitting across from her watched the cards with wide eyes, his chest still as he held his breath.
The Fool. The Lovers. The Wheel of Fortune.
Perspiration began to bead on Mr. Reid’s forehead. A nervous, well-dressed man. One not wearing a wedding band. He wore a silver ward around his neck, rather than one made of wood, which spoke mountains of his wealth. He clearly feared Death and his future. He had something on the line. A woman, perhaps? It usually was. Yet, the insignia on the ring he wore on his pinky told of his high status with the king. Likely a nobleman who worked for the king, but… He was not born into his wealth. The king could strip it away. This man feared for his job.
“Mr. Reid,” Meira said at last, and the man’s gaze darted upward to meet hers. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his forehead. “I see your troubles as if they were my own. It involves money. A lot of it.”
“H-h-how did you know?”
“You are asking that of a fortune-teller?” She tipped her head and smiled.
“W-w-well, I was doubtful, but… Never mind. Please continue.”
She turned the cards to face him. “You are at a crossroads, Mr. Reid, and you need to make a decision. A smart decision. Even if it makes you uncomfortable. New experiences are ahead, and if you travel the harder path, you will be rewarded.”
The man sat and stared at the table for a long minute, and slowly his perspiration began to dry. At last, he stood. “Perhaps it is for the best that I leave the king’s seat then. I tire of the constant noose around my neck.” With a nod, he turned to the door. She called out to him.
“Mr. Reid, I do not work for free.”
“Right. Of course.” He dropped a couple of coins onto the table and left. Just as she pocketed the money, another person walked into the room and took a seat across from her. Her breath hitched when she lifted her head to find Betha at the table, a hard, yet uncertain look on her face.
Each stared back at the other. If she were a dog, her hackles would have raised the moment she’d entered the room. Betha and Death. What history did they have together?
“I have watched you interact with the last few customers, and I must say, Meira, that you sure know how to spin a tale.”
She cringed at the volume of her voice. She hurried across the room and shut the door, making sure to bolt it closed. Her meager savings could not afford to lose any of her customers.
“Why are you here?” She eyed the beautiful blonde woman sitting at the table. The usual look of contempt crumpled into devastation. Immediately, her heart tumbled to her feet. “Is it Death? Has something happened to him?”
“Other than almost killing another woman with a kiss? No.”
A chill entered her bones despite the windows being locked tight. She hugged her arms around her torso in an attempt to regain some of her warmth, but the thought of Death with another woman ached far too much.
“You can stuff your melancholy away, Meira,” Betha huffed. “He didn’t want to do it. But with the way he has been following you around like a puppy these days, I’m surprised he gave it a shot at all.”
“Is he…here?” She glanced about the room for a shiver of darkness, for a head of brown hair, for captivating gray eyes.
Betha shook her head. “I told him to focus on his duties while I visit you.” Holding her palm out to her, she added, “You are the fortune-teller. Tell me how much you can gather about me in one session.”
She slowly lowered herself into the opposite seat as if bracing herself for some sort of trap, but she did not take the woman’s hand. “I do not need to read your palm to make educated guesses. But what Ihavegathered… You are close with Death and Life. You are protective of their well-being. And you are especially wary of other women, which leads me to believe you are insecure about your position within your trio. You never shirk off your duties as Time, which shows me you are responsible to a fault. Your structured lifestyle does not always beat harmoniously within your group of three. You are loyal, but I cannot help but wonder if you are loyal to Death, or to Life.”
Silence echoed in the room as Betha stared at her hands in her lap, her lips pressed tightly together. To give her a moment to her thoughts, Meira crossed the room to the window and stared out at the blizzard howling past. Not a soul lingered in sight aside from the occasional soldier ducking for safety from the storm.
“You don’t even know me,” Betha finally said. “How could you have gathered so much?”
