“Tough loss, lad.” The burly man raked a pile of coins toward him, his grin yellow and crooked. “Not much for cards, are you?”
Will watched as Aidon took a long pull of his drink, his expression sour. “Apparently not.”
“Let us buy you both another round,” the man’s friend chimed in. “Least we can do for bleeding you dry.”
The men shoved back from the table and elbowed their way to the bar, not bothering to wait for the barmaid. Will hadn’t seen her in over an hour, anyway.
He waited until they were out of earshot before rounding on Aidon.
“What the hells are you playing at?” he spat, his eyes darting to the depleted pile of coins in front of the king. Aidon had won an early hand, but he’d been steadily losing since.
“Relax, would you? I have them exactly where I want them,” Aidon assured him. “You could win a hand or two more, you know. It’ll look far less like you’re trying to help me win if you did.”
Will’s jaw clenched. Hehadbeen trying to win ever sinceAidon started losing so spectacularly. He was just rubbish at cards. And if Aidon’s smirk was any indication, he knew it.
“This isn’t a game,” Will bit out.
“It is quite literally a game, and one I am very good at,” Aidon shot back, all trace of humor gone from the deep baritone of his voice. His gaze shifted over Will’s shoulder, clocking the return of the men. “You do your job and let me focus on mine.”
Will swallowed his retort as the men slammed four mugs down on the table, sending the ale splashing onto the already sticky surface. He nodded his thanks before he took a hearty swig. But his frustration was steadily mounting. It was nearly impossible to pick out conversation in the crowded space, and the snatches he had heard thus far were utterly useless.
“…cold is going to kill the saplings…”
“…say the Ventaleh wind returned to the Malas. This late in the season, can you believe…”
Perhaps a more direct approach was warranted.
The burly man began to shuffle the cards, his cheeks flush with the heat of the crowd and the alcohol steadily coursing through his veins. Slowly, Will let his affinity reach toward him. It had been a lucky thing to find two humans looking to gamble a few hours away.
Add it to my list of sins, Will thought as his affinity wrapped gently around the man. It was a subtle thing, letting the feeling of drunkenness deepen just enough to be useful to them without raising any suspicion from the man or his comrade. Will didn’t need to push much. Just enough to loosen the man’s lips so that he might get some crumb of information after three weeks of wandering the wilderness.
But before he could even begin to raise a single question, the man was asking one of his own. “I can tell by your accents you’re not from around these parts. What brings you two to Maumart? Can’t be the gambling,” he added with a wry chuckle.
“We were dockworkers in Dunmeaden,” Will lied smoothly. “Barely escaped the attack. Thought it best to get as far away as possible.”
“No docks for you to work at here,” his companion chimed in, frowning at his hand of cards. “What’ll you do now?”
“Might try our hands at felling,” Aidon replied. “You wouldn’t happen to know any carpenters looking for men to add to their company, would you?”
“Aye,” the first man mused, his eyes glazed as he looked off in thought. “Ned Gallows lost a man in an accident last month. He might be worth talking to.” He blinked and frowned at Aidon. “Not eager to get back to Trahir, are you?”
Will kept his attention on his cards—another terrible hand—but he saw Aidon still for a beat in his periphery.
Relax, it’s just your accent he recognizes, Will silently urged.
Relief swept through him as Aidon flicked a coin into the center pile, his movements turning loose and easy as he said, “Haven’t been in years. As it is, I’m not sure I’m up for crossing the Anath at the moment.”
The smaller man shuddered. “You couldn’t pay me to leave Maumart.”
“You think we’re safe here?” His friend scoffed. “They’re killing humans for sport. Just look at what happened in Sitya.”
Will glanced up from his cards, his brow furrowing as he felt the sharp twist of the man’s anger brush against his affinity.
The man tossed a card down on the table and drew another. “I told you, didn’t I?” he said to his friend. “ThatSecond Saintwas no saint at all.”
Will’s heart lurched. He could feel Aidon’s gaze on him, but he forced himself to throw another coin into the pile, to continue the game, even as every instinct screamed for him to move, toact.
He pushed his affinity harder, influencingandsensing. Pouring in trust, searching for deceit.
