“Can we hang back for a second?” Cleo suddenly asks, from my side.
We’ve been walking for a bit together, neither of us saying anything. Thankfully Chase rebounded enough to maintain some small talk up ahead with Rosa and the others. We’ve almost reached the Repentant shack, but Cleo is right—I need a minute to stop and think.
“I know you hate me pointing it out, but you’re doing the hair thing,” Cleo says. “Pretty bad.”
“I know,” I answer. “But it’s only because I’m actively freaking out right now.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” Cleo sighs. “But you have to know what Rosa was doing back there, right? Either she knows who we really are and was trying to intimidate us, or she just wants us to fall in line behind her. Either way, Rosa is really the wicked one in this equation.”
“But that doesn’t mean what she said was wrong,” I say, feeling breathless.
“So what if she’s right?” Cleo challenges. “We’re only eighteen. We’re not supposed to have it all sorted out yet. And a fully formed adult weaponizing that is bullshit, no matter how… insightful she might’ve been.”
Cleo shudders, despite themself.
“But what if I am too much, like Chase said?” I can’t help it. I’ve slid into the spiral and I can’t stop until I’ve circled all the way down. “Or what if I’m not enough, like Anwar made very clear?”
“Anwar literally doesn’t matter,” Cleo says, now stopping in their tracks. “You know I think you’re enough, just as you are. Why can’t you see that?”
Then I feel it, roaring in like a runaway truck: panic. It ramps up in my body, readying to tear me apart.
“I’m too big. My body, my mouth, my heart. And I make myself big because I know I’m not enough of the things that really count.”
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“I know. I should be stronger. But I’m not like you, Cleo. You know yourself better than anyone I’ve met. Rosa was wrong about you.”
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My heartbeat hammers. My hands feel numb. My vision blurs at the edges, because I’m on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. I begin to tug at strands of hair again, hoping the pain will somehow ground me.
“Amelia, listen to me,” Cleo whispers, gripping my shoulders. “You have to breathe. Stop for a minute and breathe with me, like you taught me. Inhale four seconds, hold it for six, and exhale for seven.”
I do as Cleo says, instantly thankful because I know this will work. Forcing my body to exhale more than inhale is one surefire way to lower my heart rate, which in turn slows the surge of fight-or-flight anxiety.
“All you have to remember is this response doesn’t mean your body is breaking,” Cleo says, slow and calm. “It means your body is working exactly how it’s supposed to—just a little too well.”
Letting these words soak in, I take a few more beats of mindful breathing, just Cleo and me. Eventually, I feel the landslide of panic slow.
“You have to listen to me right now, Amelia Piccolo,” Cleo finally says, once they can tell I’ve calmed a bit. “There’s no magic spell to recite here, no wand I can wave to make it all better. The world is mean, and people will rip you apart if you let them. And as much as this trip has turned into a very messy detour, I’m actually glad we’re here. Because I’ve learned two things for sure.”
Cleo pauses, needing to take a breath themself.
“The first is that no one can really hurt you unless you give them the power to. I know exactly who I want to be, who I am deep down, so all the Cains and Lilys and Rosas of the world can’t touch that part of me. I just… I wish you could find that for yourself.”
A look then comes over Cleo’s face—one I’m not sure I recognize.
“Because the second thing I now know for sure is something I’ve been too terrified to admit for way too long. I’m in love with you, Amelia.”
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“No,” Cleo answers, “Rosa was right about some stuff. I am worried about something all the time, something I’m too terrified to say out loud.”
Tears form in Cleo’s eyes, but they quickly brush them away.
“What is it?” I ask immediately, my heart straining. Suddenly it’s as if, seeing Cleo’s pain, all the panic crumbles out of my body like loose dirt. My body somehow understands making sure Cleo is okay matters far more than everything else. “You can say anything to me, Cleo. Anything.”
“I don’t…” Cleo tries, taking a deep breath. “With sorting out my gender, I haven’t really even touched my sexuality yet. But…”
“I’ll love you no matter who you discover you want,” I say when Cleo doesn’t keep going. Don’t they know that they don’t have to come out to me by now? Or if they do, that I’ll support them no matter what?
“That’s the thing,” Cleo finally replies. “I might not have a label for it, but I do already know who I love. Who I’ve loved for a long time.”
Cleo raises their eyes to mine, and they don’t need to say another word. Because I see it there, written all over Cleo’s face.
It’s me.
I’m the one Cleo loves.
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The thought takes immediate root, grounding me and flooring me at the same time. How could… How could I not have known? Or could it be I’ve always known Cleo feels this way, somewhere underneath it all? Could I ever feel the same? Or is it even possible that I… already do?
Cleo’s revelation might have swept away the mudslide of panic I was beginning to experience, but now this has only been replaced by an even more complicated emotion: crushing confusion.
“Hey, are you two coming?”
Chase’s voice sounds from way up ahead, where he stands at the doorway to the Repentant shack. Seeing the verdant structure again, I can’t tell if I want to run toward it or just run away.
“I know my timing is terrible,” Cleo says. “But I couldn’t keep waiting for the perfect moment anymore.”
“Cleo, I don’t—”
“You don’t feel the same,” Cleo mumbles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to change—”
“No, it’s not that,” I interrupt. “I’m sorry, I need to say this before we go inside. Honestly, I am surprised. I haven’t ever thought of us that way. But I don’t… I’m not afraid to? Or I mean… I just need time to sort out what’s even possible for me in that realm?”
“Hey, I get that,” Cleo says. “I’m the walking poster child for that.”
I release a nervous laugh, and so does Cleo.
“All I know is—” I start to say before catching myself. I want to say nothing will ever change between us no matter what, but I know that’s not something I can promise. I want to say I’ll love Cleo back, but that’s another promise I can’t make yet. So instead, I tell Cleo the truth, unfiltered.
“I am so glad you told me. The rest we’ll sort out together?”
Cleo looks back at me, more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen them. Still, they nod. They even smile.
And it melts my overworked heart.
Standing in the Repentant shack, a single seed plants itself in my bones.
Being back here after our coven afternoon, that seed begins to sprout into righteous anger. How dare Rosa mess with our heads the way she did? How dare this false queen lay claim to what doesn’t belong to her? Quickly, this fury then branches into purpose. If nothing else, Cleo just reminded me exactly what matters most. They reminded me that I am The Empress, which makes Pentacles my turf. Finally, this affirmation blooms into determination, flowering out through my limbs: I am reclaiming what’s mine.
If I ever felt guilty about taking the deck back from this house of step-witches, that falls away. Now I have a job to do. And nothing will stand in my way.
These are the thoughts that fill my head while the others solve Perilli’s tarot equation. It turns out my hunch was absolutely right—the remaining clues we needed were indeed written inside the pentacle platform compartment. Knowing this makes me feel I’ve
done my part, especially because I still can’t offer the depth of my tarot knowledge without giving us all away. Besides, Chase is more than capable of working out the details with the coven. This leaves me all the space I need to focus my full attention on getting away with the King of Pentacles once it’s unearthed, along with the rest of the deck.
Cleo had an idea they shared, right before we entered the shack. Once the King of Pentacles is either recovered or possibly destroyed, we use the distraction to snatch the deck from Rosa and run like hell back to Charvan. Inelegant, but straightforward.
Luckily, that’s my jam.
Now it’s up to me to be bold enough to pull this heist off.
Having discovered a Perillian poem written inside the compartment in gold strokes, Rosa, Sherwin, and Chase read it out loud.
THE ARTIST’S DAWN
First, above all else: the work.
Then, the inevitable worry: ineptitude, reception, rejection.
Finally, acceptance and success: a perfect duality.
Most importantly, once stability is achieved: risk it all over again.
We’ve been solving the Repentant equation using tarot history.
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We’ve been solving the Repentant equation using tarot symbols.
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Given the poem’s title, we realize the equation is clearly linked to the Golden Dawn society, as suspected.
Once the others have absorbed the poem, they begin matching this blueprint to the narrowed number set. Quickly, the “King of Pentacles as artist” card story becomes clear: Three of Pentacles, the artist at work. Five of Pentacles, inevitable worry that reminds us to remain present—as Rosa just read for Cleo. Two of Pentacles, flowing forward from balance achieved. Four of Pentacles, stability should inspire risks, not stasis.
Sherwin makes an argument to swap the four and the two, but he is overruled by Chase and Rosa—rightfully so, in my opinion. The initial interpretation just seems to click. It has brought us to this moment, this specific place and time, with the artist’s story fully drawn.
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Rosa uses a flashlight from her phone to check the rest of the compartment. She doesn’t find anything else, but she does illuminate little symbols embedded inside one letter in each line of the poem:
A brush, a frowning mask, arrows of transference, and a raised fist.
From there, it doesn’t take the others long to assemble the narrowed number set in order. A brush for the Three of Pentacles, which represents a leader at work. A frowning mask for the Five of Pentacles, which represents inevitable worry that reminds us to remain present—as Rosa just read for Cleo. Arrows of transference for the Two of Pentacles, which represents flowing forward from balance achieved. A raised fist for the Four of Pentacles, which suggests that stability should inspire risks, not stasis.
Sherwin makes an argument to swap the four and the two, but he is overruled by Chase and Rosa—rightfully so, in my opinion. The initial interpretation just seems to click. These symbols capture the different seasons of the King of Pentacles’ nature too perfectly.
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“So who’s going to do the honors?” Rowe asks.
“You children have been invaluable,” Rosa answers first. “There’s no way I could have figured all this out on my own. But if you don’t mind, I’ve been waiting for a long time to take my place in Perillian history. If we’re wrong, I’ll bear the burden of destroying this priceless artifact. However, if we’re right, I’d like to be the Queen who unearthed Perilli’s final King of Pentacles.”
As expected, no one challenges Rosa. So she approaches the pentacle lockbox, her eyes beginning to sparkle with anxious anticipation.
For once, I’m actually happy to let someone else take the lead. Instead, I find myself in a new position, lurking like some renewed hunter, every muscle in my body primed for action. I watch as Rosa sits on the pentacle platform, placing the deck down beside the lockbox. I glance over at Cleo and they also note this, their own fists clenched in anticipation.
After one last deep breath, Rosa begins scrolling through each combination to lock in the chosen sequence: 3 5 2 4. Once the numbers are set, Rosa looks around at each of us…
Then she presses the button set above the King’s 14.
For a moment, nothing happens. For a moment, we collectively hold our breath—because we obviously got it wrong. The liquid is about to discharge from the lockbox canister, I just know it…
Until the lockbox lid clicks and separates, popping right open. Inside, the King of Pentacles is revealed, nestled into a plastic slot. Above it, a clear tube is suspended, but no liquid dispenses.
We did it.
Rosa gasps, clapping her hands together like a giddy child. I can’t make out the details of the unearthed King of Pentacles from this angle, but it doesn’t matter. My body swirls, fully charged. It’s time to do this.
My eyes find Cleo’s and we both nod.
Cleo moves first, darting toward the platform. With all eyes currently on the revealed King, Cleo is able to grab the deck off the platform before anyone realizes what they are doing. By the time everyone does, Cleo is halfway to the door.
“No!” Rosa screams, scrambling to her feet.
“Run!” I scream at Chase. He freezes for a split-second of shock, but then takes off at a sprint after Cleo.
I take advantage of the chaos to make my move. Rosa must expect me to follow my friends, but instead I rush directly at her. I use my momentum to knock her sideways off the platform, sending her falling into a bed of nearby flowers. It’s petty, but I have to admit—it feels good.
I then snatch the King of Pentacles out of the lockbox and make a run for it. I don’t know if the coven kids are too shocked or too afraid of me after my visible hip-check, but none of them move to stop me.
“Go after them!” Rosa shrieks from behind, just as I slam the door shut.
We have a head start, but not by much. As I begin sprinting, I realize the sun has just begun to set. Which means we don’t have to worry about being chased through the woods in pitch darkness, at least. I stride to catch up to Chase and Cleo and suddenly see Cleo topple forward, their foot probably catching on some unseen root. Immediately, I flush with an instinct: I must help Cleo.
But Chase makes it there first. “Are you—”
“Totally fine,” Cleo interrupts. “Let’s move.”
The three of us begin running again, panting as our legs churn. Adrenaline surges in my system, but unlike before, I welcome it—my body should be feeling some urgency right about now. I hear a branch crack behind me and realize the coven kids must be following us, after all. Probably even Rosa herself, since she changed into sensible sneakers before we trekked out here. I think of what she’ll do to us if she catches us… Far worse than that fear, however, is the prospect of losing this chance to take back the deck.
It’s a careful dance, letting the fear fuel me instead of freeze me. Moving as fast as possible, but not so fast that I fall into the dirt. Branches slap against my body as I sprint behind the others, scratching my cheeks and clipping my arms. I clutch the King of Pentacles in my hand, hoping I don’t damage it in our chase.
We reach a small clearing and I push myself to run faster, my lungs burning in my chest. Golden sunlight spills across the grassy openness, and I raise my hand in front of my face to glimpse the King of Pentacles. Goddess forbid Rosa catches us, I at least want to lay eyes on this lost creation. Glancing up at the card in punctuated bursts, I am immediately haunted by the King’s gaunt face. His head is topped with a crown of leaves and wildflowers and he sits on a throne of twisted thorns. Pentacle coins fall from his outstretched hands, cascading into the grass below and sprouting like seeds.
“I see you!”
I feel doubly haunted as Rosa’s voice screams behind us. I turn my head to find her just across the clearing, looking feral. Supriya sprints at her side, joined for the hunt. They’ve caught u
p to us quickly—too quickly. And where did Sherwin and Rowe go? Fear trickles into my muscles. We’re not going to get away with this.
Just then, a thought bursts into my brain. Cleo has the deck up ahead of me and they are the fastest of the three of us—that’s what matters most. But I hold the King, and obviously Rosa cares about that card most of all…
The question quickly arranges itself before me: Do I somehow visibly leave the King of Pentacles behind for Rosa and her coven? It would be a consolation prize, giving them the chance to make back some of the money they gave Anwar. More important, stopping to gather the King would maybe slow them down and give us a better shot at making a clean getaway. Or do I continue running forward and keep the King of Pentacles with the rest of the deck, where it maybe really belongs?
Chase made exactly this kind of decision for me earlier with the Prince of Wands, and that has never sat right with me.
So now is my time to make up for that, Empress I remain.
I leave the King of Pentacles behind for Rosa and her coven to treasure.
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I keep the King of Pentacles. Completing more of the deck is a risk worth taking.
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As this decision locks into place, I know it’s the right thing to do. So, taking one last look down at the King of Pentacles, I say my goodbyes.
However, I find this moment doesn’t feel bittersweet at all, because I know now for sure these physical cards are not what really matters. What matters is the journey. The lessons. The truth. What matters is how I become the kind of person Grandma would be proud of.
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