“You tryin’ to cheat me, Bartouk?”
The shout came from the other side of the room. Two guards rose from the table nearest the bar, pointing fingers at each other.
“Me? You’re the one sliding coins out of my pile, Pane!”
The two men continued arguing until one of the waitresses came between them. With her blue feathers and petite hands straining against both men’s chests, the poor girl looked like bait between two birds of prey. But she managed to placate the two, and the den settled back into the easy commotion of the night.
Nes shook her head. Guards or not, all men were the same when it came to gambling. Sore losers.
She shifted in her seat, tucking a foot under her. She pulled it back out and tapped her toes on the rungs of the stool. She was just as bad as Toran. She needed to calm down, but she couldn’t take a deep breath without the smell of magic overwhelming her.
“What do you think this is? Charity?”
“If it were charity, I’d be giving away my coins instead of letting you poach them.”
“Me poach your coins? It’s the other way around.”
The argument—new people but the same sentiment—sprouted toher right this time. She glanced back at the table by the bar. The guards seated there were tense, agitation spurting from their fingers with every flick of a card, their gadots in piles close to their chests.
Curiosity made her take a long inhale. She froze.
Her own cards fell from her fingers like leaves shaken off a tree branch. They scattered across the table, some face down, others face up for the whole table to read.
“Nes?”
It was Toran’s voice. She knew that. Knew the question he hid inside her name, too. She just couldn’t answer.
She grabbed one of the gadots set before her. Then another. And another, squeezing the coins so hard they left an imprint in her palm. Nothing but the feel of metal, cold and harsh, bit into her skin. Her fear grew with each coin she picked up. It became a great beast inside her, making her magic spit and hiss like a cat.
She sucked in another long breath. The air was full of ale and sweat and the chill of winter. All normal. None of those scents sweet or luring as magic liked to be. But she had to be sure.
She shoved back from her stool, leaning over the table to the pot of money in the middle.
“What are you doing?” one of the guards seated with her asked. She ignored him.
She plunged her hands into the bowl of coins.
“Hey!” The same guard reached to pull her away, but Toran was already there—already pushing the man back into his seat, his words, “Don’t touch her,” like spears of ice hovering over the guard’s throat.
Her fingers swam in the money, searching for a spike of magic and finding nothing.No no no.
She rushed to the next table, throwing her hands into their pot. Then to the table beside that. Cold. Emotionless. Powerless. All of it.
She whirled, looking for—
“What is it?” Toran asked. His hands were on her arms, his eyes crinkled in the corners.
She couldn’t keep still. Her gaze flitted around the room, at the curious stares. This wasn’t the kind of scene she’d wanted to create tonight.
She grabbed Toran’s wrist and tugged him toward the bar. They bent down behind the bar, among the bottles and barrels. She ignored the way the waitress there muttered something incoherent under her breath and turned her back on them. The girl pushed through the door to the kitchen, one of the violet feathers falling loose from her uniform and floating to the floor in her wake.
“It’s gone,” Nes whispered. “The magic.”
Toran shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
“The magic is gone, so the coins are starting to disappear.”
No sooner had she spoken her theory aloud than shouts rose out over the lip of the bar. Like boomerangs, cries of indignation and surprise bounced off the walls. She and Toran stood in unison. The floor had turned to chaos. Fights broke out at every table. Tempers rose and accusations rose with them as people realized the coins they’d won were no longer in their possession, as, before their very eyes, the pots in the middle of each table dwindled to nothing.
