“I don’t think I know any courtly games.”
“We’re not at court.”
He still looks doubtful, but he shuffles the cards between his fingers. “Would you know Red Sevens?”
“I would.”
His eyes flare in surprise, probably because it’s a tavern game, usually accompanied by plenty of drinking and gambling, but hedoesn’t comment. I watch as he deals, flipping the cards down on the boards. Maybe the earlier conversation with Quint has stuck in my thoughts, but something about it is reminding me of my time as Sullivan, as if this is just another night that I’ve snuck out of the palace with my brother in tow.
I remember playing Red Sevens in the Wilds, laying silver on a table to bet while Cory chewed on his lip next to me, watching with rapt attention. I always knew how to tell if someone was lying—I’d learned early from watching consuls and advisers lie to my father. I could read the motion of their eyes or the set of their jaw. When I’d play cards in the Wilds, it was no different when men and women would try to cheat me in a tavern or across a table in the firelight. I always let the lying and cheating happen, and then later I’d ask Corrick which people were honest and who’d stolen my money. He always thought it was a lesson. A game for our walk back to the palace.
He never knew that I let the cheating happen because I had no guards at my back. I couldn’t risk a fight. We risked enough just sneaking out of the palace atall.
Thorin finishes dealing, then lays out the requisite four cards between us, and takes up his own hand.
As dealer, he should go first, but he hesitates. He studies his cards and then surreptitiously glances at mine.
I immediately see the problem. “You’re not to let me win,” I warn.
A smile finally breaks through. “Yes, Your Majesty. But you can go first.”
Fine. I lay down a six of spades. “I honestly thought Alice was afraid of you both,” I say.
He hesitates. “Well, she . . .was.”
My eyebrows go up, and Thorin glances away, abashed.
“When she brought dinner,” he says, “I told her she doesn’t need to keep running from me like she’s tossing food to a wolf.”
“And how did she respond?”
A light sparks in his eye, and he lays down a five of hearts. “She said, ‘Maybe I like wolves.’ ”
“Aha. Now I understand why she called you Wolf.” I lay down a queen of diamonds. “I supposeFoxwas taken.”
He laughs outright, but then cuts himself short, glancing at the door, mindful of Quint. “She came back an hour later, clinging to that tree there.” He nods at the darkness. “I asked if she was here for the king, but no. She said she was here for me, but she didn’t have any food to toss, so . . .”
His voice trails off. He’s blushing again.
Now I’m genuinely curious. “What?”
“So I asked how she felt about wolves who were good at cards.” His blush goes nowhere. “She sat down and told me to prove it.”
Maybe I should be out here askinghimfor advice on courtship. “Did you?”
“Oh no, I was definitely lettingherwin.” He grins, but it fades quickly, and he scrubs a hand through his hair. He peers at me as if he’s only just realized that he’s having this conversation withme. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It’s very late. May I . . . ?may I be of service?”
I shake my head. “I couldn’t sleep.” I gesture down at the cards that are still tucked in his hand. “Play your card, Wolf.”
But just as he lays down a king of spades, we notice movement along the tree line at the same time.
Thorin drops his cards and has his crossbow in hand before I’meven aware that the figure is moving toward us. He’s on his feet a second before I am, and again, the cards go spinning.
“Hold,” I say sharply, just as a woman gives a short burst of scream.
She’s cringing in the shadows, expecting to be shot by a crossbow, but I recognize her. Annabeth, the woman who haltingly told me about sneaking into the palace to lay explosives before the rebellion in the Royal Sector.
“It’s all right,” I say. “Thorin won’t hurt you.”
