Page 104 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
“Usedto own gambling dens,” comes a voice from behind me. “His are all burned down now.” Damia circles the table, sitting herself down in the empty chair beside me.
“And a terrible shame it is, Mr. Wadestaff,” says Moss as he eagerly pockets my coins.
“Thank you, Moss,” I say archly. “It’s good to know that at least someone here has heart enough to lament a man’s misfortune.”
“What’re you playing?” Damia asks.
“A Trovian game,” I say casually. “I doubt you’d know it.”
As I hoped, her eyes flare in challenge.
“Try me.”
“It’s called the Cleric of Agshire,” I say. “One of my favorites. Hand of seven, aces are high, and fours reverse your fortune—got it?”
“Oh the Trovians didn’t invent that one,” she says, a smile twisting her lips. “We have it in Filusia. But I’m not surprised it’s your favorite game. We call it Cockroach.”
Esther laughs, nearly choking on the ale she’s drinking, and I give Damia a wide grin.
“You Filusians have such a way with words, I’m surprised more of you aren’t poets.” I scoop up the deck and begin to deal. “Instead, you seem to be much more interested in running around cutting and stabbing things.” I lay out the last few cards for the players.
Damia laughs as she picks up her hand. “And Trovians are all peace-loving lambs, I suppose?”
“Peaceful? No. But it’s true that some of us enjoy spending our timeloving,”I say with a knowing look.
Esther rolls her eyes, but Damia’s cheeks darken.
“Then I’m surprised you bothered to come on this mission at all,” Damia says, her voice low. “There’s not exactly going to be much opportunity for it.”
“We’ll see,” I say, and I feel a spark of excitement at the look she gives me in return.
“I’m serious,” she says. “You’d have been better off staying in Tread, where you could happily avoid sticking your neck out for anyone but yourself.”
I pretend to be offended as the others stay with their hands or draw.
“Excuse me? I’m a very crucial part to Princess Morgana’s plan,” I say. “Besides, the Temple wrecked my city, and it’s only fair I pay them back in kind.”
“Funny, I didn’t think a crook like you paid anyone back,” Damia replies.
Esther clears her throat loudly. “Can we just place our bets please?” she says. I can tell she’s getting impatient with our flirting, or bickering, or whatever it is we’re doing. Yet I can’t seem to help myself. There’s something about Damia that just gets under my skin, like an itch I can’t scratch.
Damia stares me down as she drops a couple of florins onto the table.
Yes, I’d very much like to scratch that itch.
Two minutes later, I’m laying down my winning hand and watching those green eyes spark with annoyance as I collect my spoils.
“I give up,” Esther says, standing up from the table.
“Don’t quit so soon, miss,” Moss says imploringly.
“I have to before you all make a pauper of me,” the rebel says, ducking beneath a beam and heading toward her cabin.
“What was that you said about the Filusians inventing this game, Damia?” I say smugly.
“I need a drink,” the fae says, abruptly standing and stalking off toward the galley.
I can’t resist, dropping the cards and pocketing my winnings. “Sorry, Moss,” I say. “But looks like the game’s over.”
