Free A Proper Lover (Ganymede Quartet Book 2) by Darrah Glass Page B

slave, I tink.”
    She began laying the cards out on the table, giving each a moment's careful thought before laying down the next. “Vell! Okay! Zis card—” she slid a card aside and put her pointed nail on the one she meant—“is reversed. Tells me you have troubles, zat all hope is lost, but I do not see zat now when I look at you. Maybe is in past?”
    Martin said, “I was troubled until quite recently, Ma'am, but things have improved very much!”
    “Zen zat is it,” she said decisively. “I vill tell you, Martin, reading cards for slave is difficult. Is too entwined with fate of master, decisions made by master zat slave vould not make on his own.” She glanced at Henry with a look of faint disdain, and Henry felt a little offended.
    “Cards say you vill have many struggles, many contradictions, but zis card—” again, she pointed with a red nail—“tells me you vill do your best to make good choices. Cannot say same for zose around you.” Again, the baleful glance at Henry. “You vill feel despair, you vill be miserable, it vill be hard road, but take heart! Zis card—” she tapped it three times with her nail—“says it vill all turn out all right. Catastrophe avoided! New life and happiness!” She patted Martin's arm. “Is good slave fortune,” she tried to assure him. “Most slave fortunes very bad, no happy ending.”
    “Th-thank you, Ma'am. It was very interesting.” He sounded upset, and Henry wanted to see his expression, wanted him to turn around. Martin pushed the chair back and stood, then faced Henry. He looked pinched and pale behind his mask.
    “Are you all right?”
    “I'm fine, Sir. I-I'm just a little superstitious. I'm easily shaken by such things.”
    Madame Ersebet looked up at them with a hint of friendly impatience in her expression. “Okay, young master! Your turn!”
    “I don't have to do it,” Henry said to Martin. “If you'd rather just go.”
    “No, Sir, I want to hear what she has to say about you.”
    Henry sat.
    “Vat is your name, young man?”
    “Henry.”
    “All right, Henry. Show me your hands.”
    Henry put his hands on the table and Madame Ersebet looked at them critically a moment. “You're right-handed,” she decided.
    “Yes,” he agreed. “But how did you know?”
    “Most people are right-handed,” she said airily, seeming to imply that Henry was ordinary, whereas Martin was special. Even though Henry also thought this was the case, it seemed impertinent for some gypsy to suggest it.
    She picked up Henry's right hand and felt the flesh and bones as she had done with Martin, then turned it over to look at the palm.
    “Here is heart line. Is deep and straight—means you're jealous type, yes?”
    Henry blushed at this and nodded.
    “You vill have one great love,” she pronounced. “Is very clear. See here, zis line?” She pointed at a crease on the side of his hand. “Zat is your love!” She gave Henry's hand a squeeze. “Don't let jealousy spoil your love, Henry. Zat is my advice for you.”
    She turned his palm toward the candlelight.
    “Hmm. Head line not so strong in you. See how is wavy, not deep? Maybe you have trouble in school?” She cocked her head to the side, questioning, and seemed to expect a response.
    Blushing again, Henry admitted, “I don't get the best grades.”
    “Is because you can't concentrate. Not practical person. But is okay because you have Martin to help, yes?”
    “Yes,” Henry said grudgingly. He had expected this to be a lot more lighthearted and fun.
    “Finally, life line. Yours is interesting, also. Long and deep, vich is good, but here is break—” she poked it with her nail, which hurt—“vich means someting interesting vill happen. Maybe bad ting, but you vill be fine, live on.”
    She shuffled the cards a few times and put the deck on the table. “Cut cards, please!” Henry did so. “Take top card. Represents you.”
    Henry laid the card on the table. “Page of Cups. What does that