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turned back to his visitors, shutting the door quickly so the warmth from the fire couldn’t escape.
    But the sweep of the door sent an errant draft curling through the room, brushing most of the blessing squares off the table. More than half blew straight into the fire.
    “Oh no!” Corene exclaimed, dropping to the floor and trying to rescue the ones that hadn’t swirled into the flames.
    Josie was laughing. “Maybe we’re not meant to choose blessings for Rafe Adova after all.”
    Rafe set the bread on the table, along with the mug that was no longer needed. “There’s still a few left,” he pointed out, because three folded squares remained on the table. “Maybe those are mine.”
    “Maybe they are,” Josie agreed. “And they’ve been chosen for you by the element of air.”
    “Maybe he’s elay,” Corene said, returning to her chair and reaching for one of the scraps of paper. She unfolded it eagerly, then stared at it wide-eyed. “Ghost,” she said, showing them the empty square.
    Despite himself, Rafe felt a prickle of superstition spiderwalk down his spine. Josie opened the second square. Not a mark upon it. Silently, she handed the third one to Rafe, and he smoothed it open.
    Another ghost. If the element of air had chosen his blessings, it had gifted him with absolutely nothing.

THREE
    C orene protested for about five minutes, but Rafe wasn’t surprised that Josie convinced her to lie on the bed, where she almost instantly fell asleep. Rafe should have been just as tired, since he’d been awake since noon of the day before, but he found himself oddly energized. As if he’d just had the first glass from an excellent bottle of wine, and it was glittering through his veins. He was pretty sure the intoxicant in this case was the young woman sitting so primly at his table, looking utterly incongruous yet perfectly at ease.
    He had been gone for a few minutes, cleaning himself up in the room down the hall, and now he dropped into the other chair across the table from her. He noticed that the fire was burning merrily; she must have added more fuel while he was out of the room. For someone who looked as dainty as an heiress, she possessed an impressive streak of practicality and a hard core of strength. Or so it seemed.
    “Anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?” he asked.
    “No, actually, I’ve been trying to think what we can do to make up for intruding on you. I’m sure you’re exhausted, too, and would like to sleep in your own bed.”
    “I’m good for another few hours,” he said. “But I suppose we’re all trapped here until her father arrives.”
    “I know. I apologize again for the disruption to your life.”
    Out of habit, he pulled the ever-present deck of cards from a hip pocket and began shuffling them. “I find I’m not minding it much,” he said. “It’s made for a more than ordinarily exciting evening.”
    “You’ve been very kind.”
    He risked the question. “Even though I didn’t sell your sister any red gemstones?”
    She laughed. “So you caught that, did you? Some friends of ours taught us that phrase years ago. They were itinerant traders and sometimes dealt with unsavory characters. It’s a way of asking if your friend or partner is in danger without letting anyone else understand the question.”
    He nodded. “I guessed.” In the small silence that followed, the ruffling of the cards sounded very loud. “So how would you like to pass the time while we wait?” Rafe finally asked. “Do you play penta?”
    She looked intrigued. “I never have. My mother always thought card games were vulgar.”
    He laughed softly. “Well, they’re often played by vulgar people.” Just to occupy his hands, he started laying the cards out in suits, face up on the table. Josie watched with seeming fascination.
    “The artwork is very intricate,” she said. “Do all decks look like this?”
    “Some are more ornate than others. I tend to buy the beautiful,