The Queen’s Gambit

The Queen of Cups sits in her Palace. Inside she is pure liquid rage. Beyond the arched window, the House of Cards loomed—spires of gilded parchment, trembling as the King of Spades’ laughter rattled the foundations. His latest decree echoed: her sacred pools drained to fuel his wars. Her silver goblet trembled in her grip, water within boiling to steam, scrying visions of his crown shattered, his cold heart pierced by a shard of her chalice.

But she did not move. Not yet.

Her reflection fractured into a hundred queens, each whispering a different betrayal—a poison draft, an alliance with the suit of Swords, a flood to wash his throne to ruin. She smiled, sharp as cut glass. Let him think her placid, a still pond. Still waters, after all, drown the loudest kings.