Rena
I wish I could say I'm able to push that stupid card reading out of my mind, but it sticks with me for days after, living as a little knot of dread in my belly that I don't let myself inspect too closely. The fortune teller's words echo in my thoughts at unexpected moments—during quiet afternoons in the palace library, as I lie awake at night listening to Armani's steady breathing beside me, even as I absentmindedly run my fingers over the slight curve of my abdomen. I know better than to believe that sort of woo-woo stuff. In my normal life I'm all about books and facts and science, rigorous academic analysis and peer-reviewed studies. I've always prided myself on my rationality, my ability to separate fantasy from reality.
But I almost feel like a different person here in Montovia
