Page 25 of The Lady Glass
“Everyone likes to have their fortune told. He’ll thank me when he’s through.”
He stared from Mrs. Bedrich to Theresia. “On the contrary, I take no stock in such things. I will take my leave before I ammissed.”
“Do you want to see my zlato again?”
Theresia came around the fire to his side. “Maybe you should listen to her. She will make such a fuss if you don’t, and we will need to interact until my vase is retrieved.”
He scowled. “You cannot be serious.”
“I admit I have never seen it done before, and I haven’t the courage to try it myself. But it ought to be amusing seeingyourfuture told.”
“Theresia,” he said between his teeth, hoping Mrs. Bedrich did not hear him slip on her given name.
“Rolland,” she breathed back, her dark eyes teasing him. “This is the only way to be rid of me later.”
Rid of her? Did he want that? She linked her arm with his free one, as if they had been friends since childhood, and the fight left him. This was not at all what he had imagined for his day. And he wouldn’t even be able to lie about it to Marcus. There was no way either the duke or Lewis would believe that he was not taken with Theresia Dvorak.
They might even be right.
“Poutník, stay,” Theresia told the dog.
“Poutník?”
She shrugged. “A name that means wanderer.” Wanderer? Was that what Theresia was?
When they approached the worn tent at the back of the camp, Mrs. Bedrich spoke with the woman inside first. The air about this corner of the camp seemed heavy and strange.
Misgivings filled him. “I cannot believe I am doing this,” he grumbled to Theresia.
“Neither can I.” She stared at the woven blanket used as a tent door, a frown puckering her brow. “I wonder how well Mrs. Bedrich knows this fortune-teller. My cousin’s musical troupe doesn’t claim an acquaintance with any of the travelers here.They camp together for safety and comradery, but they are hardly friends.”
When Mrs. Bedrich motioned them inside, he added in a low voice to Theresia, “What have I allowed you to talk me into this time?”
Her nervous giggle was her only answer.
The tent was dimly lit by the red hue from the sun against the fabric. His fortune-teller was even older than Mrs. Bedrich, with tanned skin, deep-set wrinkles, and gray hair mostly covered in a colorful shawl. She sat on a pillow and motioned them to sit on one of the many other pillows scattered about. He did so, but Theresia seemed hesitant. When she lowered herself to the ground, he noticed she sat back a bit, behind his shoulder. Did she hope he would protect her from this wizened woman? The very idea assured him that she did not belong here.
The fortune-teller eyed him for a long, uncomfortable moment before shuffling her cards and flipping them over on the ground in front of her.
Rolland cleared his throat. “I should tell you I do not believe in this sort of thing.”
The woman’s hands froze, and she glanced at Mrs. Bedrich, who only shrugged in response.
The wrinkled hands of the fortune-teller gathered her cards back into her hands. “How about a prediction and a blessing, then?” Her voice was throaty, her words scratching to be free.
Rolland almost shook his head, but he did not want to offend Mrs. Bedrich or the fortune-teller, so he nodded instead.
The dark eyes of the woman across from him blinked slowly. “I have been doing this for many, many years. I don’t often have such a clear sight when I meet someone. You, however, are different.” She scowled at him and turned her head sideways, examining him for some obvious flaw. Was this where Mrs. Bedrich had learned to do the same? And could he believewhatever prediction this woman spoke? It was all rubbish, wasn’t it?
“You don’t let yourself believe in much, do you?” The words were said like a direct answer to his thoughts. “The learned often think they know best,” she continued. “The stubborn are worse. Like yourself, they don’t care as they should. But do as you please. I could tell you that death lies ahead, but I am not certain you would listen.”
“Death?” Theresia whispered behind him.
The fearless Theresia could not truly be frightened by a mere prediction.
“Death,” the fortune-teller repeated, “must fall to at least one in your party. Danger too. For your lady,” she said, looking at Theresia before dragging her gaze to him, “and for your friends. But will you be too thickheaded to see it?”
He did not correct her assumption that Theresia was under his protection and instead reviewed the strange prediction. Some of the officers aboard his ship had claimed having their fortune told was highly entertaining. There was nothing here that brought him an ounce of joy. “Thank you for the warning.” He shifted to stand, but the fortune-teller’s voice made him hesitate.
