“The straight rolls, and the highest card wins,” Julian announced. “The pot goes to Madame Death.”
“What?” Elyse seethed. She flattened her palm over her cards, blocking Julian from taking them.
“Straights roll, Elyse,” Killian said calmly. “Ten, one, and two. Nine, ten, one. They count as consecutive numbers, and whoever has the highest card always wins.”
Elyse shot daggers at him with her eyes—who was he to be so condescending? Thomes let out a haughty snort that had her baring her teeth at him.
“Laugh at me again, you little shit, and I’ll use the Blade of Hanael to cut off your testicles.”
Thomes’s jaw dropped and his face paled. He looked like no one had ever deigned to speak to him with such vulgarity, especially not a woman.
“While I love your enthusiasm, Ms. Crenshaw,” Julian purred, “please refrain from threatening the other players.”
“Fuck you,” Elyse shot back, but she shoved her cards toward Julian. “Deal the next hand.”
Julian let the cards cascade from one hand to the other as he held Elyse’s glare. “Gladly,” he said, and dealt the cards.
A dozen rounds later, with Killian and Death taking the majority of the wins, Elyse found herself down to four coins.
She put in her ante—two coins—and played it cool as she inspected her hand.
Councilor’s four and five, General’s three and four, and a Saint’s six to spare.
She tried not to grumble at her shit luck. With two coins left, she could wager for a chance to complete one of her straights. But which one to choose? She’d have to give away two cards, meaning one of her potential straights would be broken up. It was the worst position to be in.
Deciding that a General’s straight would be the best outcome, Elyse discarded her Councilor’s four and the Saint. She pushed her final two coins into the pot and held her breath as Julian passed her two new cards, hoping she had made the right choice.
She had not.
A Councilor’s six and a Saint’s one. If she’d held onto her Councilor’s four instead, she would have a straight.
“You may remain in without matching the bets,” Julian informed her. He glanced pointedly down at the empty space before her. “Given that you’re out of coin.”
Elyse gave him a nasty look but held her cards close to her chest. She could still win this. She just had to hope everyone else had shit cards as well.
“Just fold, Elyse,” Killian said as he matched Death’s bet. “We all know it’s a waste.”
Elyse tilted her head at the cocky bastard. “Excuse me?” she said, her tone lethal.
“It’s true,” Nathanial added. “You’ve never once folded, no matter how bad your cards are.”
“I’ve folded,” she argued, but Killian cut her off.
“No, you haven’t. Not in eighteen rounds. You’re arrogant to a fault, and it’s about to cost you.”
He laid down a run, and Julian declared him the winner of the pot. Killian was sure to give Elyse a cunning smirk as he scooped the coins toward himself.
“Ouch,” Thomes said, grinning at Elyse’s misery.
“Shut up, Thomes,” Killian snapped back. “You’re two hands away from losing.”
Elyse leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her shrewd gaze landing on Killian. He had better win, and he’d better do it fast, before she lost her patience.
Sure enough, two rounds later, Thomes was out of the game. He slumped in his chair, mirroring Elyse’s despair.
“Cheer up, Dandelion,” Killian called to him. “There’s always next time.”
“May the gods take mercy on me,” Julian breathed as he dealt another hand.
