It clicked for Honey then.
“Officer Theodore Nolan?” she asked, rearing back. “You’re the community liaison to the bureau.”
“That’s me,” he said, not the least bit abashed.
She gestured broadly to the illegal spellwork, the glamour-imbued drinks, the very existence of this underground speakeasy. “And this doesn’t bother you?”
He shrugged. “What’s the point of being the liaison if you don’t know where the fun happens?”
Honey clamped her lips shut. She supposed she wasn’t one to talk since she was a member of the bureau and not planning on including any of this in her report.
Ethan took a sip of his drink then leaned closer to Theo. “Anything new pop up?”
His gaze flicked to Honey and back. “You sure you want to do this on your date?”
Before Ethan could respond, or Honey could ask what they were talking about, Clover sidled up. “I may know something.”
“What?” Ethan said, taking half a step toward her.
“Are you playing or not?” Clover asked. There was a clink as she moved tiles around in her hand.
“We’ll play,” Ethan said.
“I didn’t bring any money,” Honey cut in, though she was also thinking that Ethan shouldn’t be gambling.
“No worries,” Clover said, eyes gleaming. “Tonight, we’re bartering in secrets, and I have a feeling that man of yours has many questions.”
Before Honey could tell her that she’d gotten it wrong,Clover was slinking away to a table. They followed her to where a couple sat alone, and then the table shifted to make space, literally. Honey watched the chairs rearrange themselves with a lazy scrape of wood on stone.
The game was called Witches’ Track, and Clover explained it while shuffling the tiles in a small circle, her fingers deft. “You start with seven. The goal is to build two lines from the center and complete a loop before the others do. But…” She tapped the glowing circle in the center. “…the board moves. The tracks shift based on what we’re hiding in our hands.”
Honey picked up her tiles and arranged them in order. Beside her, Ethan fanned his tiles against his chest, a look of unguarded hunger on his face. Not for money. Not even for winning.
For secrets.
And Honey, who’d spent her whole life locking truth away in vaults, felt something flutter in her chest like a key turning in an old lock.
Let the game begin.
By the fourth round, the couple at the end of the table had grown tired of losing and wandered off to flirt at the bar. Theo slipped away to referee a game of darts. The lanterns seemed to burn lower, and Clover gathered the tiles into a neat circle in the center of the table. Now it was just the three of them—Clover, Ethan, and Honey.
“You sure you’re still in?” Clover asked, one brow arching over eyes that sparkled with mischief. She leaned forward, her elbow resting on the table, and her smile predatory. “You lose the next round, Hale, and you’ll owe me another secret. Not sure Honey’s ready to hear the next one.”
“Ethan—” Honey started, but before she could say more, Ethan slid his hand under the table, and rested it gently on her thigh.
Her brain short-circuited, the words on her tongue crumbling to ash. She looked at him—expecting maybe a smirk, a warning, anything—but he was watching Clover with total, infuriating calm.
“I’m sure,” Ethan said simply.
Each round he lost, she expected Ethan to get wound tighter and tighter. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, resting his other arm loosely on the empty chair on his other side. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was completely unaffected.
Clover sent the tiles spinning with a flick of her fingers. They clattered against each other, then rose into the air and floated into each player’s hands, seven pieces each. The candle beside her flickered, its light dancing over the worn wood and the glint of her silver rings.
Honey looked at hers, two doublets, four strongly positioned tiles, and a wild tile that shimmered between numbers. A strong opening set. She’d picked up the rules quickly—longer tracks scored better, holding a wild made the tracks shift, and doublet tiles could shift if placed at the right time.
Maybe she could win this for Ethan.
Honey tried to focus, but Ethan’s fingers tapped lightly on her thigh. Once. Pause. Twice in quick succession. Then again.
