The Secret of the Emerald Sea by Heather Matthews

Author:Heather Matthews [Matthews, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-09-01T16:00:00+00:00

* * * *

“Do you have a question, or a concern, or something you’d like to know? Or would you prefer a general reading?” Jane asked Blake, her voice shy and quiet.

“I would like to know what lies ahead, I suppose,” he said, laughing a little. “But not if it’s terrible, please.”

“I will keep that in mind,” she said. I will never tell you anything terrible, she vowed. I will never do anything to hurt you because I love you. Jane had made a promise that even the gods could hear, and she wondered if they were listening. From that instant, she felt an eerie sense of being watched and observed...of some clairvoyant force, not so different from her own, there in the noisy tavern. She looked around, but saw nothing out of order. It’s invisible, this spirit, or god, but something is here, looking inside of me.

Jane laid out the cards in a standard Celtic Cross formation, feeling a strange helplessness. The cards seemed to move of their own volition, and she could not control the awful feeling of...sadness...that overtook her as she laid them face down on the wooden table. Blake’s trusting face, so beautiful, so pure and clear, made her feel confused and forlorn. Bad news, she thought irrationally. Death...gray, like a tombstone...all is blackness.

Oh, no, she thought, as she reached to turn the face card, the card that would represent the boy she loved so dearly. She sighed in relief as she saw that it was the Page of Cups, and that card was golden and bright and just right for him. That is fine, she thought, fighting hysteria. That is as it should be.

“This is you, my lord,” she said. “This card is the Significator. It is meant to represent you in the reading.”

“Ok,” he answered. She suspected he knew nothing about the cards, or about fortunes. She doubted tarot cards were permitted in his home, or that he would he have had much interest in them if they were. He seemed too educated to be superstitious.

Jane tried to look at the next card before she turned it over, tilting it toward her and turning the corner a little. The bad feeling was taking over again, and she wished she was far from this place. She wished she was back home safe in Royalton, away from this village, away even from Blake. Her promise, her vow not to hurt him, was like a thorn in her side now.

“The next card is the past...” she whispered, and she felt a cold chill fall over the room. She felt sickness, loneliness, and despair. “You were ill,” she murmured, “desperately ill, and you felt alone.” She turned over the card and lay it face up on the wood. “You were sad.”

“Yes,” he said, looking down. “I was sick enough to die, but somehow, I did not. My whole childhood, I was ill, always ill, with doctors going to and fro, frowning, worrying. My mother would cry. It was terrible, but now I am well, Jane,” He flushed crimson and looked at the card.

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