Page 15 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

“There she is,” says Fergus, gesturing toward a circular table in the center of the room.

Lady Maeve sits like a queen holding court, her silver-white hair cascading down her back in intricate braids interwoven with what look like living fireflies. Her skin has the luminous quality of moonlight on water, and her eyes—a startling violet—seem to see right through me when they flick in my direction.

“Seamus O’Connell,” she says, her voice like honey drizzled over ice. “How delightful. I was beginning to think you’d never accept my invitation.”

“Lady Maeve.” Seamus bows with perfect formality, though I catch the hint of wariness in his eyes. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“As does yours.” Her gaze slides to me, looking mildly intrigued. “And you’ve brought a...friend.”

“Bella Brewster.” I introduce myself before Seamus can do it for me. “Owner of Moonwake Café.”

“Ah, yes. I do enjoy your monthly metamorphosis specials. I sometimes have servants fetch them since I couldn’t be seen in a coffee shop, you understand.” She says it like it’s a preposterous notion.

I smile sweetly. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed them, Lady Maeve. You are free to come inside yourself if you prefer though. No one will mind.”

Her eyebrow arches, and for a moment, I worry I’ve overstepped. Then she laughs, and it’s a sound like silver bells that makes several nearby patrons turn in appreciation. “Sit,” she commands, gesturing to the empty chairs. “Fergus tells me you’re looking for something I might have.”

We take our seats. The table between us is inlaid with mother-of-pearl that shifts and swirls like clouds across a night sky. No cards or chips are visible, but I sense they’re just a gesture away.

“Perhaps,” says Seamus carefully. “We’re following a trail that led us here.”

“A hunt.” Maeve’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “How entertaining, and what makes you think I’ll simply hand over what you seek?”

“I never assumed you would,” he says. “I imagine you’d want something in exchange.”

“Smart boy.” She leans forward, and her gown, which seems to be made of actual starlight, shimmers with the movement. “Iwant to be entertained. It’s so rare these days to find anything truly novel.”

With a flick of her wrist, a deck of cards materializes on the table. The backs are golden and embossed with a familiar symbol—the same one from our previous clue.

“A game, then. Poker, but we won’t be wagering anything as mundane as money.”

“What are the stakes?” I ask, earning another appraising look from Maeve.

“Truths,” she says simply. “Seamus will play against me. Each hand he wins, I reveal something of value. Each hand I win, he tells me something true.” Her smile turns predatory. “I do so love collecting secrets from handsome men.”

Seamus doesn’t flinch. “And if I win the game overall?”

“You get the deck.” She taps it with one long, pearlescent nail. “Which I suspect is what you’re after.”

“And if you win overall?” I press.

Her violet eyes gleam. “Then I get to keep him for a night.”

My stomach drops. “That’s not—”

“Deal,” he interrupts, his expression unreadable.

“Seamus.” I hiss.

He gives me a look that saystrust me. I want to argue, but Maeve is already dealing the cards with elegant precision.

“Five-card draw. Simple enough even for mortals to follow.”

I sit back, fuming silently as the game begins. Hecate peeks out from my purse, her tiny eyes narrowed at the fae lady.

The first hand goes to Maeve. She smiles triumphantly. “A truth, Seamus O’Connell.”

Seamus considers for a moment. “I once stole a kiss from a princess of the Winter Court. She turned my lips blue for a month.”

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