I take the next round, too, winning favors from both Micah and Lucius.
Micah gives me a mock glower. “You can’t be that lucky.”
“It’s luckandlogic,” I murmur, already sweeping up my next hand. “When I lived in the Thorn, I spent hours playing these games.”
Years later, when I was bodyguarding, I’d watch hand after hand, standing silent as I fought off boredom so mind-numbing, if I hadn’t had my brothers to think about, I almost would have wished for the excitement of the arena.
“Don’t be a poor sport,” Neris tells him.
Tiernon winks at me, and I hide my smile behind my cards. I’m not at all surprised when he takes the next round, winning a favor from Rorrik, who takes the round after that.
“My brother taught you this game, didn’t he?”Rorrik’s voice is a low taunt.
I stiffen, ignoring him.
The corner of his mouth curves, revealing a hint of fang.“You play just like him. I know, because I used to play him too.”
I can’t imagine them as children. Can’t imagine them ever playing together or even cooperating in any capacity.
“I know what you want,”Rorrik says when I don’t reply.“You’re hoping to bargain your way into the imperius.”
I startle, my hand clutching my cards. When I meet his gaze, his eyes are steel.
“When you’ve lived the kind of life I have, you’ll find most people—and their motivations—are entirely predictable. You’re hoping to beat Tiernon. I wouldn’t recommend usinghisfavor in such a way. If he’s seen skirting the rules for you, things will go badly for him.”
I raise one eyebrow.“As if you care.”Silence. I chew on my lower lip, gazing sightlessly down at my cards.“I don’t have a choice.”
“I can also get you a spot on the imperius.”
I go still.“The imperius is Tiernon’s.”
Rorrik lifts his gaze from his cards.“If I want to add a novice to the pool of imperiums willing to put their lives on the line for my father, I can do so.”
“Andwillyou?”
“Perhaps. If you manage to beat me.”
There’s a spark of something in his eyes. An invitation to … play.
Ah. Rorrik is bored.
And he’s also likely enjoying the strained glances Tiernon is sending our way. He knows I’m deep in conversation with his brother.
Which is, of course, why Rorrik is taking this public game and making it a private competition between him and me.
“I don’t trust you.”
His eyes glitter with displeasure. But his words from the bathroom are still echoing in my head. I can still see him at my lowest moment, twisting the knife as he watched me hungrily, enjoying my pain.
He quirks one eyebrow and I stare him down.“Let me be perfectly clear, Rorrik. Yousucceeded.I don’t trust you. And I willnevertrust you.”
Rorrik places a card down, taking another. But a muscle jumps in his jaw, and I don’t miss the predatory gleam in his eyes.
My hand is strong, but Rorrik has successfully distracted me, and I have no idea what the others have. I’m forced to fold, and Tiernon sweeps up my favor with a smirk.
I write another, and his smirk widens to a grin, his dimple flashing. Something wrenches in my chest. Gods, I missed that grin.
I’m still so, so angry at him. But I know exactly how fragile joy is. I know how happiness can be snatched from you without warning. And seeing him here, relaxed and enjoying himself … it’s a brutal reminder of the years we shared.
