Page 16 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

Maeve laughs delightedly. “Naughty boy. Titania’s youngest, I presume? She always did have a temper.”

The next hand goes to Seamus. Maeve sighs dramatically.

“Very well. A truth from me.” She taps her chin. “The cards you seek were crafted by my great-grandmother, who had the gift of foresight. They show not just what is, but what might be.”

Seamus nods, clearly filing away this information as he deals the next hand.

As the game progresses, I watch Seamus carefully. He’s very good at reading Maeve’s tells with practiced ease. He loses when the stakes are low, offering up amusing anecdotes about his misspent youth that make Maeve laugh but reveal nothing truly important. When the hands matter, he plays with ruthless precision.

Maeve seems more amused than annoyed by his strategy. “You’ve played this game before,” she says after he wins a particularly crucial hand.

“I’ve played many games.” He shuffles the deck with nimble fingers.

Through her “truths,” we learn that the Golden Path Deck is more than just a set of cards. It’s a magical artifact that can guide its owner to what they truly seek. We also learn that someone has been asking about us around town, someone Maeve refuses to name but describes as “old and patient.”

The final hand builds with excruciating tension. Maeve’s gaze never leaves Seamus’s face as they each discard and draw new cards. The air around us seems to thicken, the ambient noise of the gaming hall fading away until all I can hear is the soft sound of cards against the table.

Seamus reveals his hand first. He has a full house, kings over tens.

Maeve’s smile doesn’t falter as she lays down her cards, revealing two pair of aces and eights.

“Well played,” she concedes, pushing the golden deck toward him. “The deck is yours, as promised.” She smiles again. “Ofcourse, it will return to me when it has served its purpose in this little game.”

Seamus collects it carefully, tucking it inside his jacket. “Thank you for the game, Lady Maeve.”

She leans forward, dropping her voice to a silky murmur. “Until next time, Seamus O’Connell. Bring your little witch again. She has spirit.”

We watch her glide away, the crowd parting before her like water.

“We should go before she changes her mind.”

I nod and follow him quickly out of the gaming parlor. Outside, the night air feels shockingly normal after the magical intensity of Finnigan’s. We walk several blocks in silence before Seamus pulls us into a small alcove between buildings, away from prying eyes.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he says, producing the deck.

The cards feel warm to the touch, almost alive. Seamus spreads them in his hands and immediately, one card seems to glow brighter than the others. He pulls it free, revealing the Crossroads Card, showing an old stone well surrounded by wildflowers.

“’Where time stands still and echoes of the past remain, seek what was left beneath the rain,’” I read the golden inscription aloud. My heart skips a beat as recognition dawns. “That’s your old cottage. The wishing well in the back garden.”

Seamus nods, his expression guarded. “It has to be.”

“We should wait until tomorrow,” I say, remembering his neat garden, which has probably become overgrown unless there are new tenants at the house Grizelda made from a lily. “It’s late. It would be safer to tackle the wishing well with daylight.”

He nods. “I’ll walk you home.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“Humor me, Bella.” He looks somewhere between stern and pleading. “Please.”

I sigh, nodding my agreement. Hecate pokes her head out of my purse, looking between us with obvious interest.

“That was quite a show,” she says as we start walking. “Lady Sparkle-Pants seemed very interested in our leprechaun friend.”

“She’s a high fae,” Seamus explains. “They collect interesting experiences like humans collect souvenirs.”

“Is that why she wanted to keep you for a night?” I ask, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

Seamus grins. “Jealous, Bella?”

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