a/n: hi, guys! thanks for reading this! if you have any questions, just drop a comment and I'll answer the best I can! happy reading, and merry christmas!
THE EIGHT OF SWORDS
upright: isolation, self-imposed restriction, imprisonment
reversed: open to new perspectives, release
Evarose sat by the window in the study, her head lolled against the glass. As she stared out, she imagined a world she only read about in her books: trees that changed color and shed, a vibrant sky with explosions of color, fields of flowers, and a circle of homes.
Of course, none of those things existed in the Heris, the glacial mountains where she had been living in since she was six years old. Trees were dark pine dusted with snow. Flowers never lasted long. There were no seasons and not much sun; color and warmth meant very little.
But if Evarose had to be honest, she wouldn't want to stay anywhere else.
After a while she grew tired of watching the snowfall and got up to pull the curtains over the windows. She paused then, narrowing her eyes at her towering bookcases as she wondered what to read next. Perhaps a collection of tales, or maybe one of her father's atlases? What had she not read in her library yet?
All of a sudden she heard a ringing bell.
She glanced out of the window again. Someone in black clothes was treading in the snow.
With a wide grin, Evarose hurried to the door, her skirts billowing behind her. She continued running down the lantern-lit hallway and the staircase, nearly tripping on the carpet that covered every inch of floor in the whole manor. Shame burnt her cheeks, even though there was no one to see her.
She arrived just as the front double doors creaked open and a man donning winter-wear stepped inside, bringing in the cold wind and flakes of snow with him. He set down a large pack that he'd been carrying on one shoulder.
"Nicolas!"
"My lady," said the man, giving her a wide smile as he yanked his hood back and brushed ice off his clothes. "Always the first one I see."
Evarose's cheeks reddened, embarrassed because it was true, but then she frowned when she saw him. "You're scattering the snow everywhere."
"Ah." He looked down at himself, at the snow already melting into the carpet. "Don't tell your mother."
She offered a furtive smile. Eagerly she dashed forward and hugged him, pressing her face against his chest. He smelled like pine trees and old ocean salt.
Nicolas was an old family friend and something like a messenger. Since Evarose and her mother rarely left the manor, he was the one who traveled to places to pick up supplies, letters and news. He was a free spirit, but no matter where he went, or how long he took, he always came back to them.
To Evarose, he was the older brother she never had, feeding her foreign fairytales and information about the outside world. Most times he would sneak her little trinkets from his journeys. Mother used to disapprove it, saying he was spoiling Evarose, but eventually even she got excited for the gifts.
"So . . . How was your trip?" Evarose asked him.
"Nothing much to tell. I just went to the ports again." Nicolas dug into the pocket of his coat and handed her a gift. "For you, my lady."
