SOPHIA
“We have a lot in common, I think,” Harrison Augustine told Sophia as they waited in the restaurant in the Kipling’s Hotel. “Our families being what they were.”
“I don’t want to talk about my family,” Sophia grumbled, ignoring the bread basket or the waiter filling her glass with water. She hadn’t had much of an appetite lately—either that or she’d eat too much at once and feel bloated and uncomfortable for hours, as though her body had completely forgotten how to take care of itself. If she grabbed the butter knife beside her and plunged it into her hand, she wouldn’t be surprised if her blood ran out taffy green.
“Well, I think it’s important we get to know each other,” Harrison said, and Sophia restrained herself from barking out a laugh. They were hardly friends. “I don’t think you know how long we could be waiting.”
“Will Delaney and Harvey really take that long?” Sophia asked. Their table was set for four.
“That isn’t what I meant, and Harvey isn’t coming. I saw him earlier, and I decided he needed space.” After murdering Zula Slyk, Harvey probably needed therapy, not space, but Sophia didn’t bother voicing this. They were trapped in a game of life and death. None of them were getting what they needed. “What I meant is that this game might not end for months. Years, even.”
Years. Sophia couldn’t even contemplate her future into next week.
“Three players have already died,” she pointed out.
“But it will take five cards to end the game. We still have a long way to go.”
“Unless the Bargainer gets bored. I’m sure she could win fast, if she tried.” Why she hadn’t tried yet, Sophia had no idea.
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this grim? You can manipulate your own luck—that must count for something.”
She considered snapping at him.No, I’m not always this grim. But my boyfriend was just murdered, and that’s been a damper on my month.But, thinking better of it, she instead murmured, “I’m not sure all the good deeds in the world could change these odds.”
“Remind me not to bring you to parties.” Then Harrison’s expression softened. “We have something else in common. The people we loved were both murdered by my mother.”
“What? Are we supposed to bond over that?” Sophia growled.
“The Families are gone. We’re all that’s left. It feels like a place to start.”
“I’m not your trauma friend. I’m your...” She couldn’t say the word, not even to him. “We can start and end at that. As far as I’m concerned, you’re exactly like your mother.”
He bristled. “That isn’t true.”
“Then why use your talent at all?” She stared him down, and he looked away. She wasn’t surprised. Those designer suits he bought didn’t come with a backbone.
“The same reason you aren’t fun at parties,” he said softly. “Trust issues.”
Delaney and Poppy appeared behind her and took seats at the table. Their hair was wet—they’d come freshly showered from rehearsal, Sophia guessed. She wondered what it was like to have such a pretty, glamorous life outside of the game. She had nothing to do except dwell on it. And sleep. And bicker with Harrison Augustine over a restaurant table, apparently.
The mood changed instantly, as though they’d been dowsed with Brint water. Sophia thought first to blame it on the circumstances—they were meeting because the House of Shadows had failed to provide them any answers about how to kill the Bargainer.
Then she realized it was Poppy, the daughter of Harrison’s electoral opponent. The man who, according to Levi’s stories the night after St. Morse, Harrison had had killed.
Poppy looked good, far better than Sophia did, after her breakdown last night over a beheaded corpse. She’d brought a notebook, and the ring she’d purchased at the House of Shadows glimmered on her finger as she flipped open its pages. Her eyes were fixed on Harrison.
“’Lo,” Harrison said politely, but not warmly. “I wasn’t expecting you to join us, Miss Prescott.”
“Neither was I,” Delaney muttered.
“I’m a player in this game, too,” she said haughtily. “Or is there a specific reason why my being here makes you uncomfortable?”
Sophia’s heart clenched. Poppy hadn’t come here to help them—she’d come to interrogate Harrison about the death of her father. Likely that was the reason Poppy had bought that cursed ring in the first place.
But he answered, “Not at all. I’m merely surprised, but happy to have the extra help.”
His words were smooth—not slurred. Why hadn’t he been compelled to speak the truth because of the ring? The only jewelry Harrison wore was the emerald Augustine ring on his fourth finger. But he was familiar with the House of Shadows. Perhaps he carried protection in his pockets.
Maybe he did have trust issues. Or maybe he just had a lot to hide.
