Phelan, frowning in contemplation, set down his cards to mirror mine, and I saw that he had been holding the spymistress. Mazarine. Her horns flared and then vanished, and I swallowed the questions I wanted to voice, questions that would betray all the things I shouldn’t know.

“My mother painted these cards,” he confessed at last.

“I noted that she is a magician when I met her in your bedroom,” I said carefully. “I didn’t realize she is also an artist.”

His gaze flickered to mine. “Not many people know of her skill. She hardly speaks of her deviah magic to me.”

“Have you ever asked her why she paints these cards?”

“No.”

“Does she know that the knight has wounded you twice, now?”

“Yes, of course she knows.” He was becoming agitated with my questions.

I swept the cards off the table and shuffled them. Phelan watched me with hooded eyes as I dealt us a new hand.

“Your mother is making these enchanted cards, unaware that she is also giving someone the chance to wreak havoc on the new moon,” I said. “You and I need to discover who the knight is, and what they want. Perhaps they are simply seeking a challenge, but perhaps they have a bone to pick with your mother. Hence why they have attacked you twice now, Phelan.” And why the knight appeared in Hereswith, the day before the brothers had arrived. As if the knight had known they were coming.

Phelan looked pale in the firelight. “You think the knight will come on the November new moon if one of us loses at cards and dreams tonight?”

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t tell him that I believed the knight had specifically targeted him, and that it was vital we discover who this vengeful person was before they killed him.

“Then whichever of us loses must also choose to forgo a remedy, in order to dream tonight, Anna.”

“Yes,” I said again, softer. I bit my lip. I couldn’t afford to be the one to lose and dream. I needed it to be him.

He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. I didn’t look away from him; I held his eyes as he held mine. Even as he seemed to steal my breath.

“Very well.” He picked up his cards, as did I. And my hopes were dashed when I saw that I held three different wraiths. The advisor, the lost one, and the lady-in-waiting. If I was going to win, I would need Phelan to trade cards with me three times.

He refused to trade at all.

I lost with the three wraiths in my hands, and when I surrendered them, faceup on the table, Phelan fell quiet.

“Another round,” he murmured, and worked to shuffle and deal.

I didn’t want to acknowledge what he was doing, or why. But he purposefully lost the second round.