It was too dim in the Fitness center to be sure, but I thought his gaze briefly flitted over to me. He blew out a sighof over-exaggerated hardship. “Not likely. What’re you doing, anyway?”
“Just playing Haburi,” Henrik said. “And we don't have to wager on it or nothing.”
“Life’s better with a little risk,” Zevrial countered, stepping forward. “Why don't we play, and if any of you can beat me at a single hand, I won't report any of you.”
Henrik's eyes lit up, but I heard the undercurrent of implied threat.
“And if we don't win a single hand?” I asked. Once again, his searing gaze focused on me, measuring. I had the insane impression that he could peel back all my pretenses with only his eyes.
“Then you’re fucked,” Zevrial replied.
“But, we can still leave? And you won't report us?” Izaiah pleaded, a minor tremor in his voice.
“No, I won't report cowards who leave, since no one has broken any rules. Yet.” Zevrial’s face was stony, but there was fiendish delight in his eyes and I hated how my chest tightened at the sight of it.
My pulse spiked when he headed forward to take his seat, near me. He slowed his approach, glancing down at his chest, frowning.
“I'm so gone,” Izaiah announced, climbing fully to his feet and rushing toward the exit.
“Me too.” Talissa rolled up from her sitting position. “Been great knowing you.”
My ego warred with my common sense. To stay or go? Go or stay...
This felt like another big choice to make, and so soon after selecting roommates too. Losing could mean going back to the Reformatory.
Sarina worried her hands in her lap, brows knitted while she licked her lips. She might leave as well, since being a Voyager was her childhood dream. However, she remained seated.
I had never been great at Haburi, but I wasn't bad either.
The rational part of me didn’t like the stakes. But I refused to entertain the idea that all of us couldn't win one round against Zevrial. Surely one of us could beat him at a single hand of Haburi, right? We outnumbered him five to one.
Another part of me stubbornly refused to acknowledge that I could potentially lose to him, at any challenge whatsoever.
Zevrial was too close now, ignoring the open spots that Izaiah and Talissa had vacated. Henrik scooted further away from me, casting me a curious look as he made space for Zevrial to sit beside me.
I tried and failed not to shiver from the heat radiating off his skin. From this close, I could see the lines and shapes of every Skinscript symbol on his nearest arm, all the way to where they reached his neck. Looking at the lines that curved under his shirt I wondered how far down—
Nope. I didn't let that thought stray further.
“Six rounds,” Zevrial declared, scooping up the cards and shuffling them. “We’ll play one round for every person here to be the dealer.”
“Seven,” I argued, not at all repentant as his gaze snapped to mine with narrowed eyes. “Some of us need a warm up round to remember the rules.”
“Seven then,” he amended, giving me an indulging look. Watching the ease with which he shuffled the cards was making my nerves tingle. He was way too comfortable manipulating them to be a novice. “But I deal twice.”
Unease kicked to life in my stomach but I squashed it down. “Once for the practice round. Agreed.”
“Does everyone have at least seven coins?” Orin asked. There was a murmur of agreement.
“Let's go, then.” Zevrial dealt, again with a discomforting amount of ease.
We went through the warmup round far too quickly. And the three that followed that, with the pile of coins in front of Zevrial only growing.
Henrik was dealing this round, and the sour tilt of his frown told me that he wasn't pleased at how things were playing out. He had been a real card shark back in the Reformatory, constantly hustling everyone. I couldn't blame him for feeling surly, I didn't love the direction things were heading tonight, either.
Because Zevrial was cheating, even worse than Henrik. Zevrial had to be cheating, because he was barely paying anyone but me attention, and he was still winning every round.
After the first few rounds it was apparent that Orin and Benji were open books. Both of them had obvious tells, which was unfortunate for the rest of us. Orin scratched his ear whenever he lied, and Benji became a little louder, more confident. They were unlikely to win any rounds.
