Therese flirts with Sebastien in the evening. It has nothing to do with all the roussir she’s drinking, although in the morning, she’ll likely blame the roussir. Maybe not, though—for the first time, she looks happy.

I work on my mask, my fingers sticky even though I use the edge of one of my old knives to adhere feathers to the sap spread along the edges. The iridescent butterfly wings are frail and the work takes precision, but I don’t mind. Tonight, I need to focus. Lucien sits across the fire, not far from Therese and Sebastien, and every time I look up, his eyes are on me.
He wants me to lead at his side. All I have to do is prove my worth.

Therese giggles and stands up, blowing Seb a kiss. She makes seduction look so easy. I turn back to my mask, some unnamed feeling growing up through my stomach and sticking in my chest. Frustrated, I jab at the butterfly wings. One tears, and I growl under my breath.

“Joella.” Therese is there, right in front of me, her blond braids shining in the firelight, her mouth forming that crooked grin that says she has every intention of getting us into trouble.

“What now?” I ask.

“You look lonely.”

I make a huffing noise. “Hardly. I can’t get my mask right.”

She gently takes it from my grip and sets it aside. “It’s perfect, chère. You’re morose because Monsieur hasn’t made you his Madame yet. But I’ve come up with the perfect solution.”

Raising my eyebrows, I say, “Oh, I’m sure you have.”

“Take a drink,” she says, handing me her cup of roussir. “Actually, finish the whole thing.”

The liquid scorches as it moves down my throat. My body heats immediately.

“Now take out one of your knives.”

I do as she says, pulling one from the sheath on my leg. She must have some strange idea in mind, because she’s never asked me to do this before. She holds out her hand, and I give her the knife.

“Ask me any question,” she says.

I laugh. Now I know what she’s doing. Therese came to us from another nomadic tribe—a tribe that made all of its decisions based on divination, usually scrying with firelight. My knife has a shiny, reflective surface.

“Hmm,” I say, pausing as if seriously considering my question. “What did I have for breakfast this morning?”

She makes a noise of protest. “No, you know what I mean.”

“Okay.” I try to think of a question she’d like. She probably wants me to ask about Lucien, but I’m through thinking about him for a while. “Will I survive our next raid?”

Her eyes go serious, and she studies the way the flames and shadows flicker in the reflection on my knife. “Oui.”

“Will I make us unbelievably rich?”

“Oui,” she says, but before I can ask another question, she says, “and no.”

“Yes and no? What kind of answer is that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t control the shadows of the fire—I merely read them.”

“Teach me,” I say. It’s a miracle I’ve gone this long without worrying about Lucien, and I’m eager to keep my friend close. I pretend to listen as she demonstrates with her nimble fingers the different ways the flames can play against the edge of the knife, and how to read the direction for my answers.

“You can’t read your own future, though,” she says. “So here. Read mine.”

I take the knife, feeling silly. “All right. What’s your question?”

“I want to know what’s after this, for me,” she whispers. “Will I have a home? After the raiding, am I finally going to settle down into a bright future, happy and whole?”

It’s the most wistful, earnest thing I’ve ever heard from her. I follow her gaze across the bonfire to where Sebastien sits next to Lucien. Is something changing in the heart of my friend?

Then I remember I’m supposed to read her answer. The flames lick one way, and then the other, and I allow my eyes to lose focus for a breath as I concentrate. Someone drops another piece of wood on the fire, and the flames send a starburst of light and shadow across the knife.
According to Therese’s instruction, that’s not a good sign.

Her eyes are still closed, but she opens them at the sound of my gasp. “So?”

I lower the knife, carefully. If my hands are shaking or I drop it, it’ll give something away, and I don’t want to scare her. I smile wide. “Bright future ahead, chère.”

It’s the first lie I’ve ever told her, but I don’t believe in divination, anyway.