Excerpt: Queen of Swords

“The Prince of Hansarda has asked your hand in marriage.”

Ophelia choked on her eggs, finally spewing them all over the table. “You’re joking,” she wheezed.

“You know better, daughter.” A smiled pulled up the edges of Marianna’s lips. She got up and grabbed a hand towel before returning to the table to clean up the mess Ophelia made.

“But … why the hell would he want me?” Even as she asked, a suspicious thought squirmed its way into her mind. When her mother just watched her expectantly, Ophelia gave it voice. “Because of the guns. He thinks that marrying my will give him an in to the family business.”

Marianna smiled and dropped the dirty towel into the laundry shoot. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he has heard tell of you.”

“Unlikely.” Ophelia made it a point to keep a low profile. The only exception was her nighttime activities but Keiluna was a party planet, after all, and it would have been odd if she spent so much time her and didn’t drink herself stupid with some regularity. But whenever she was off-planet, she was the very figure of discretion.
Ophelia steepled her hands and tapped her fingertips to her lips. “Obviously you didn’t call me so early in the morning to tell me this. And Papa wouldn’t be in a twist over something that was so obviously a ploy. So what else has happened?”

Marianna motioned to Ophelia’s bag, which she’d set on the floor near her feet. “Do a reading.”

“Now?” Even as she asked, a sick feeling started in her stomach and radiated outwards. There was only one reason her mother would insist on a reading and Ophelia had the nasty feeling she wouldn’t like what it said.

Still, she did as her mother commanded and reached down, pulling her bag into her lap. Her cards were stored in an engraved box made from the wood of Beshmai. The planet wasn’t even on interstellar maps; it had been found by Ophelia’s great-grandfather and he’d kept his promise to the natives and told no one.

Shaking off her thoughts, she pressed her fingers on the dual switches and the lid popped open. Ophelia set the box on the table and lifted out the silken bag that contained her cards. When the upended it, her cards poured into her hands like long-lost friends. She set the bag carefully in the box before pushing it aside.

Her next movements were borne with the ease of long-practice. Ophelia shuffled the deck and cut it three times. When she looked up in askance, Marianna said, “Just a three-card reading will do, I think.”

Ophelia flipped over three cards in quick succession. It was only years of training that kept her from jumping from her seat and fleeing the room. She closed her eyes and took a few cleansing breaths before she opened them again and faced what those three little cards said.

Her hand moved almost of its own will and she touched the first card. “The Fool.” A journey begun. She moved on to the second card. “The Wheel of Fortune.” A turning point, whether for the good or bad. And the final card. “The Ten of Cups.” A fortunate marriage, contentment of the heat, and perfection of human love and friendship.

It couldn’t have been clearer than if the cards spelled out "Marry the Prince."