by Rae Carson
I hold up my empty hands. “That’s everything.” Except for my original stake, which I’ll need for the journey back to Glory.
“You must have something more.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t—”
“What about the deed to the Charlotte?”
My heart stops. “I couldn’t.”
“Surely you don’t plan to stay in San Francisco anyway. You’re going back to Glory soon, right? That’s why you wanted the town charter. You’ll have no need for the Charlotte if you’re not here.”
“Don’t do it,” whispers Becky. “I don’t trust him.”
She’s right. This was his endgame all along.
“But the Charlotte is my home here in San Francisco,” I say, loudly so everyone can hear. “I’ll stay there every time I’m in town. I’ve grown fond of it.”
“Yes,” Becky says. “It’s not Glory, but it’s a home of sorts.”
If I knew, for sure and certain, that I had provided enough of a distraction already, I would walk away right now. But I don’t know, and we won’t get another chance. I have to keep playing.
Besides, my head buzzes with the power I’ve used. The dice are my servants, doing whatever I ask. The crowd is cheering for me to take the risk. “You’re on a winning streak!” someone says. “You can’t lose!” says another. He’s right. With my power, I can’t lose.
“I’ve got this,” I whisper to Becky. And louder, for everyone’s benefit: “I put my whole stake into the Charlotte! What would the good Lord say if I gambled it away?” If I’m going to do this, I have to make a spectacle of it.
“Lee!” Becky pleads.
The governor himself saunters over. “I confess, I’m curious to see the Golden Goddess in action,” he says. In action? My heart takes a tumble.
I glance over at Helena Russell, whose eyes are suddenly the bright, rich purple of royalty. Something is very not right here.
“Dear governor, don’t tell me you believe miners’ tall tales!” Becky says with a laugh, and suddenly all eyes are on her. She spreads her smile around, bestowing it graciously on each besotted businessman. More than me, maybe even more than Hardwick, Becky is suited to this atmosphere, this world. She’s the one who practically glows in the golden lantern light, and I’m grateful for it. It gives me a chance to catch my breath, to calm my nerves.
Which is a good thing, because the governor’s sudden interest, along with Becky’s charm, has magnified everyone’s enthusiasm, and I hear cries of “Golden Goddess!” and “Minerva!” and “It’s your lucky night!”
“But what are you wagering?” I ask Hardwick. “What are you putting at risk?”
“Besides my reputation?” he asks, drawing a laugh from the crowd. “I mean, I’m taking a big risk being seen losing to a little lady, even one as charming as yourself.”
I grit my teeth. “Toughen up, Hardwick. Put something on the table, or I’ll take my winnings and walk.”
This electrifies the crowd. Cheers of “No!” and “Do it!” and “Place a wager!” sound all around us. The crowd presses in tight, waiting to see what happens.
I start to gather my coins.
“Hold on,” he says. He waves over the crowd to one of his servants, who runs off and returns almost immediately with a rosewood cigar box full of gold coins—I don’t need to count it to know it’s twice what I have on the table, worth more than I paid for the Charlotte. Hardwick starts to unload the coins.
He had this box prepared ahead of time, for it to turn up so fast.
“Throw in the box too,” I tell him, my voice shaking a little. “I like that silver inlay.”
“Very well.” He smiles, puts the coins back inside, closes the lid, and sets it on the table. The same servant returns with a piece of paper, and pen and ink. I scrawl out “Deed for the Charlotte,” and sign my name, and now everyone knows what a disgrace my penmanship is. I toss the paper onto the table.
“Will that do?” I ask.
“Not usually,” Hardwick says. With a sweep of his hand, he adds, “But with all these fine Californians to witness, it’ll do just fine.”
Echoes of “Hear, hear!” rise around us.
“This is a mistake,” Becky whispers anxiously. The baby fusses in her arms.
“Maybe,” I whisper back. I’m flexing my fingers under the table, and focusing my thoughts on the gold dice in Hardwick’s hand. “But I’m feeling lucky.”
Hardwick rattles the dice in his hand and then pauses. He glances over his shoulder, beckoning for someone. Helena.
Who is there, as always, watching. She squeezes through the crowd to reach him, and he holds out his fist with the dice. “For luck,” he says.
She leans in, smiles, and—keeping those shining violet eyes on me—blows on the dice.
Ice cracks down my spine.
Everyone is cheering. Hardwick draws back his arm, and I concentrate, waiting for the moment the dice bounce off the back wall of the table. He flings them hard, and—
One die goes flying over the edge of the table, bounces off the banker, and falls on the ground. The banker ducks down quickly and comes up with it. He starts to hand it back, and then pauses.
“One of the corners is smashed,” he says, almost apologetically. “It won’t roll evenly.”
He switched it. I can sense a third die still near the floor, maybe stuffed into his shoe. Or maybe I’m imagining it. There’s so much gold in this room, and none of it as familiar as my locket. I could accuse him of cheating, but if I’m wrong, or if I can’t prove it, I’ll be in even worse trouble. The banker hands the die around the table, so everyone can see that it’s ruined.
“Alas, gold is so much softer than bone,” Hardwick says. “I guess we’ll have to retire these dice and replace them with an ordinary pair.”
My pulse jumps in my throat. “Sure.”
Becky grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.
Hardwick pockets the damaged die, and the banker retrieves a conventional pair. They’re passed around for inspection, but I can’t focus enough to look at them. My stomach is churning, enough that I might throw up. I’ve played right into Hardwick’s hands again. Hardwick’s and Russell’s. They’ve been steps ahead of me the whole time. Hardwick knows what I can do after all, and he knew I’d use my power to cheat.
He makes a show of shaking the dice again, and pauses to hold out his fist for Helena. When she leans in to blow on the dice, he snatches his fist away, making everybody in the crowd laugh.
He pauses to look at me. “I’ll make my own luck this time.”
I smile, but I’m sure it looks sickly. The dice are undoubtedly weighted to favor his call. There’s not a man in the crowd that would admit to it, though.
Hardwick tosses the dice. Perfectly this time.
I close my eyes as they bounce off the back of the table.
They thump along the felt, rumbling to a stop.
Half the crowd cheers. Half the crowd groans in disappointment.
When I open my eyes again, the banker is pushing the stack of coins towards Hardwick. He picks up the deed for the Charlotte, snapping the corners.
“Oh,” Becky breathes. “This is not good at all.”
“You win some, you lose some,” Hardwick says, waving the makeshift deed, taunting me with my own signature. “Let me give this to the source of all my good fortune this year, the woman who deserves it most.”
With a flourish, he hands it to Helena. She smiles with gratitude, but there’s a tremor at the corner of her mouth, and after she folds the sheet of paper and tucks it into her bodice, she lets her hand linger over her heart for a moment, as if assuring herself the deed is actually there.
“That’s all for me here,” Hardwick says, with a wave of his hand. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to be a good host and visit with the other guests at my party. I return you all to your previous amusements.”
As he turns to go, the governor at his heels, I push through the crowd to
follow them. Becky grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Let him go,” she says.
“He played me. He played me perfectly.”
“He knew exactly what you were going to do,” she says.
“Because of his Irish woman,” I growl.
“No,” Becky says, circling around to stand in front of me and block my view. “No, he knew because the two of you were dancing, and you followed his every lead. You let him dictate the tempo and the steps, every step of the way, right up to the end when . . . why are you grinning like a cat that caught the cream?”
“I . . . I can’t say. Or even think it. Not yet.”
Becky’s eyes narrow. “I see.”
Quickly she guides me away from the crowds at the gaming tables to a quieter spot beneath a tree hung with lanterns. From here we have a perfect view through the double door of the proposed seal of California, and Becky stares at it, rocking the baby back and forth.
She says, “In that case, you have to calm down, control your thoughts, keep your eye on the horizon.” The baby yawns, which is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. “We still have a ways to go.”
“I know.” I glance around the garden, trying to reorient myself. Hardwick is giving another speech to a different crowd. Henry is still seated at one of the card tables, laughing like he’s winning, or at least having a good time. I see glimpses of Olive and Andy—or rather their hats—in the crowd around the band and dance floor. Maybe Becky should pretend to be more concerned about them.
But Jefferson and the Major are nowhere to be seen. When I turn toward the house looking for them, Helena is walking toward us.
Becky sees her at the same time. Taking hold of my arm, she steers me the other direction. “Let’s go. I prefer to be in polite company.”
“Wait,” Helena says. “I just want a quick word.”
I hesitate. Becky gives me a stern look, then hugs the baby closer as the other woman approaches. “Be careful,” forms on Becky’s lips as she hurries away. “Mind your mind.”
I think hard about grief. Over losing the Charlotte, Jim getting shot, the loss of my parents, now a year gone. Even the empty space at my chest where my locket used to be. Grief is an easy thing to think about. It fills me up, leaving room for nothing else.
Helena stops a few feet away, near yet wary. An infuriating half smile plays about her lips, as if she’s pondering hidden knowledge. Her gown and jewelry sparkle, her red hair stuns. You almost can’t tell she’s a hardworking mountain girl, just like me.
That’s what centers me.
I don’t want to be anything like her. I don’t want to be the special associate of some man. A trophy to be shown off at all the balls and parties. I just want Jefferson, a few friends, and work that makes me happy.
That’s the difference between me and Hardwick, I suppose, and people like him, too. No matter how much they have, it’ll never be enough. They’ll never be satisfied. I don’t want to always want.
“Thank you for the ship,” she says for an opening sally.
I open my mouth to say something possibly rude and insulting, but Mary catches my eye from across the courtyard. She holds up two fingers. The signal that all is ready.
I laugh.
Helena’s eyes—mere blue—flare slightly, the only indication of her shaken confidence. I nod toward her bosom, where she slipped the hastily scrawled deed. “Enjoy your slip of paper.”
Her next words are cold as ice. “What are you talking about?”
I can’t stop my grin, and I don’t want to. “I don’t legally own that ship. I never did. It’s in a man’s name. Even if I did own the ship, I couldn’t sign away the deed.” I bat my eyelashes. “I’m just a little lady. You see, it’s a matter of coverture—”
“Hardwick will testify,” she snaps.
“No, he’s leaving for New York tomorrow. Going to take his millions and buy his way into a political career. The businessman-become-president. He doesn’t care about the Charlotte. Or you. Unless he’s taking you with him?”
For the first time since I’ve met her, I see panic in her eyes. “I . . . turned down his offer to accompany him to New York.”
“And I don’t own the ship.”
She pauses, sizing me up. “You’re too honorable. You wouldn’t use the same laws that are unfair to you to treat another woman unfairly.”
“Not usually. But I don’t care if you were a poor girl down on her luck who found a way to escape some nasty problems. You allied yourself with a monster, so you don’t get concessions.”
It could be a trick of the flickering lantern light, but I might see tears shining in her eyes. “Seems I backed the wrong horse,” she says.
“Do you see that with your power, or are you just guessing?”
“Neither. I knew justice mattered to you, even before I saw into your mind.”
And there it is at last. All our cards on the table, with not a bluff left between us. She does see our thoughts. I suspected it, acted on that suspicion as if it was fact, and yet her admission still chills me. “You can’t own the Charlotte either, as a woman,” I point out. “You’d have to find a man to hold the deed for you. Someone you trust as much as you trusted Hardwick.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, I don’t trust him at all. I’d never go to New York with him. But you’re right. To do business here, I’ll have to find someone I trust.” She taps a lip thoughtfully.
I admit, it warms my heart a little to know Helena doesn’t trust Hardwick either. Maybe we have more in common than I thought. “I had several people to choose from,” I say. “It was no problem at all, finding someone to hold the deed for me. Trust is a great benefit of having real friends. I highly recommend trying it.”
She glares. “Don’t act so holier-than-thou with me. People like us don’t have real friends.”
This poor woman. “They’ve proven themselves over and over. Whenever I’ve had trouble that my own abilities couldn’t solve, my friends have been there to help me.”
“Your abilities.” She raises an eyebrow. “Power is more like it. Your power is amazing. Like no gift I’ve ever seen.”
I glance around, making sure no one is near enough to hear our conversation. The music of the band provides perfect cover. “And . . . you’ve seen a lot of gifts?” My question is tentative, even though I want with all my heart to know the answer.
“Not a lot. People like us are very rare. Always women, though. I knew a water dowser who could call water. And I’ve heard tell of others. Menders, who could fix things with the touch of their hand. Storytellers who could make you believe any lie was true. Weather witches, who knew a storm was coming even with a clear horizon, or pull a few drops of water from a cloudless sky. I once heard about a healer who could call on her powers to save a mother and baby in a childbirth gone bad. But I’ve never known of any power in the world like yours.”
My breath stumbles. Other women with amazing gifts, people who can change the world around them for the better. “But you can see the future! Read thoughts!”
She shakes her head. “I glimpse them, at best. My mother called them the second sight. Claimed they came from the old country, way back. Mother to daughter. That’s why she packed up the family and came to the States before the potato famine. She saw nothing but death if she stayed.”
“You must have been young.” I need to know more.
“Born on the boat over. Mother said being born on water gave my powers extra strength. Said I drew on a deep well.”
“She’s gone?”
“I saw her death coming, and so did she. We couldn’t stop it.”
My own mama passed before my very eyes. She always hinted about a childhood gone wrong, got angry whenever I used the word “witch.” Now I know she was hiding powers of her own, and something awful must have happened to her in Boston, something I’ll probably never know.
Helena’s eyes darken with memory—whether hers or mine, I can’t know. She turns as if to leave, but I g
rab her sleeve. “Wait! I have to know . . . how do your powers work?”
She stares down at my hand on her sleeve, and I let go, my face reddening.
“Why should I tell you anything more? We’ve played nice long enough.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just . . . I’ve never met anyone else who . . .”
She turns to go.
“Helena, I will give you the Charlotte.”
She whirls back around.
“Well, I’ll give half of it to you,” I quickly amend. “If you tell me everything you know, and if you stop helping Hardwick right this instant.”
“I thought it wasn’t yours to give,” she snaps. But she can’t hide the sudden hope in her eyes.
“The gentleman who holds it in trust for me would give it away on my word, no questions asked. Look into my mind and know it to be true.”
She is silent a long moment, studying me, considering. Her eyes glow violet, and I wish I could see what she was seeing.
“I even know someone who could hold it in trust for you,” I coax. “Someone who would never go behind your back.”
At last she says, “I believe you.”
“Do we have a deal?”
She glances over her shoulder, as if Hardwick might suddenly appear in the gardens. Then she says, “We have a deal.”
All the air leaves my body in a rush. “So,” I say, grinning. “Tell me how your power works!”
She shrugs, seeming more resigned than happy with our new arrangement. “Let’s say a fellow, like your friend Henry, comes into Hardwick’s gambling den to win some money. I get glimpses of him—his intent, his need, a direct thought if it’s strong enough, sometimes a peek of him at the end of the night. Maybe he’s got all the chips, maybe he’s about even, or maybe he’s flat broke and crying into his mead.”
“How does that help Hardwick?”
“I steer him toward the tables with the losers and away from the winners.”
I think back to the first time I met her, with Becky in the law offices. “You saw Mrs. Joyner coming with Henry in disguise to claim her house? That’s why Frank Dilley was waiting for us.”
She smiles. “Yes. One of my clearer visions.”
“But you can’t change the future, even when you see it?”