Chapter 18 #2
Elyse watched Killian closely the next few rounds.
His face was still impassive, but he had a bold air about him that she’d rarely seen before.
Any other time, it might have been entertaining, but right now she needed him to focus.
There was no way she was leaving without the Blade of Hanael, and if that meant she had to strangle each of them with her bare hands and no magic, then so be it.
“Concentrate,” Elyse snapped at Killian after he made a particularly brazen snipe at the twins.
“Relax,” Killian huffed. “And stop brooding. I’ve got this.” He gestured toward the sizable pile of coins before him.
Elyse had to admit he was winning a lot of hands—though half the time his cards weren’t any good. He simply had a keen way of knowing when to fold, when to bluff, and when his cards would dominate. But on his other side, Death sat with just as many coins in her possession.
The Madame, as Julian called her, had been mostly silent throughout the game. The only time she showed any emotion was when she laid down a winning hand, but her placid facade always returned a moment later.
Four rounds later, Norvick met his end as he laid down a busted hand.
“Ha!” Nathanial barked at him, returning the taunt from earlier.
“You’re out, too,” Killian pointed out.
“I am not,” Nathanial retorted immediately, eyes wide with denial.
“Yes, you are. You have the same tell, and your cards are just as shit as his,” Killian said, sounding bored.
“They are not,” Nahtanial protested.
“Then lay them down.”
Elyse couldn’t help her smirk as Nathanial held Killian’s flat stare for a moment longer, then laid down an utterly useless hand.
“Told you,” Killian remarked. This time, though, it was Death who added the coins to her collection.
Julian gathered the cards before him and began shuffling them. “Instead of waiting until one of you finally dispels your entire hoard of coin,” he began, a smile playing at his lips, “I propose a final round to settle the game—winner takes all.”
“Fine by me,” Killian said simply. Death nodded her assent.
Elyse’s heart began to race. It seemed like a stupid decision. Killian could play the long game, letting good hands outweigh bad ones, and have a better shot at winning instead of potentially throwing it all away in one round.
Even so, she was eager for this to be over with.
Her attention traveled toward the Blade of Hanael, sealed away in its glass box.
The silvery sheen of its blade seemed to spark with brutality, and a wicked bloodlust had Elyse wanting to wrap her hands around its hilt and test its powers. It would become hers.
Yet as captivating as the Blade was, she found her focus wandering toward the chest bound in chains. It called to her, even as a twisting sensation in her stomach had her wanting to run far, far away from the locked box.
Julian dealt the cards with a more serious demeanor than before, though excitement still crackled from him.
The defeated players leaned closer, their faces hovering above the table.
Even the collateral, stashed away in the glass container, seemed to be watching, eager to learn who their new owner might be.
Killian’s eyes remained on the table, watching as Julian slid one card at a time across the slick surface. When five cards sat before him, he picked them up and arranged them carefully. Elyse squinted, as if doing so might help her discern any emotion from Killian.
“Madame?” Julian asked, offering her the chance to wager.
Death subtly shook her head, declining the offer. Elyse’s blood chilled. If Death didn’t want to wager, it meant she already had a damn good hand.
“Mr. Southwick?”
All eyes landed on Killian. He stared at his cards until he selected two and slid them toward Julian, followed by two coins. Death watched closely as Julian dealt two new cards, and Killian added them to his hand.
Elyse held her breath as she scrutinized Killian’s expression. She could have sworn she saw his nostrils flare—if only for a heartbeat—but she had no idea if that meant he was pleased, or if he’d just lost it all.
“Ladies first,” he said quietly, no hint of sentiment in his voice.
Death’s lips tightened ever so slightly—a smile or a grimace, Elyse wasn’t sure. Death placed her cards down neatly, and Elyse read them upside down.
Councilor’s seven, eight, and nine. A straight, and a decent one at that.
“Intriguing,” Julian said, dragging out the single word. “Can Mr. Southwick counter?”
Premature fury rose inside of Elyse. Killian had lost. She knew it. Her gaze flicked toward the Blade, her mind racing with how to steal it away.
Killian, cool and impassive, flipped one of his cards around to face them.
“Councilor’s one,” he said, and set the card on the table.
Elyse’s blood burned with ire.
“Councilor’s two,” Killian said as he flipped the second card and set it atop the first.
Elyse was enraged. Her lip curled into a snarl as her hands clenched into fists.
Killian revealed the final card, a Mage.
“Councilor’s ten.” He slid it beneath the Councilor’s one. “The straight rolls, and the highest card wins.”
Elyse had to stare at the cards for a moment before realization assaulted her. He’d won. He’d won, the lucky, insolent bastard. And Death was now frowning, even as she congratulated him.
Julian clapped his hands together. “Oh, what a dramatic reveal!” He beamed at Killian, utterly delighted by the theatrics. Elyse was certain Julian would be inviting Killian to the next game night.
“Good match,” the others chimed in. But Elyse didn’t care. She was unsettled, her nerves alight as she waited for Killian to choose the fucking Blade.
Julian stood and slid a key from his pocket. “What prize shall you claim?”
“He wants the Blade of Hanael,” Elyse answered—or rather, demanded.
Killian shot her a look that she couldn’t read. She stared right back at him, willing him to remember her promise to exact vengeance if he fucked this up.
Unfazed, Killian turned his gaze toward Julian. “I choose the Blade,” he said coolly.
A smug grin slithered its way across Elyse’s lips. She watched with contentment as Julian unlocked the glass case and lifted the Blade. He held it out to Killian, who stood and took it in both hands. He examined it with the curiosity of a soldier, testing its weight in his hand.
“Out there,” Killian mused, a hint of savagery in his voice, “each of you has magic that can overpower my own.”
He lifted his eyes first to Elyse, then the rest of the room, who stared at him with an unnerved attention. Even Death seemed to recoil ever so slightly at his tone.
“But in here,” he went on, that savagery building. “In here, I’m a god, and you just handed me a weapon.”
In a blink, he shoved Julian aside and yanked Death out of her chair. Elyse stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, and reached for her dagger, realizing too late she hadn’t brought it. By then, Killian had Death pressed against the stone wall, the Blade of Hanael pressed to her throat.
Gone was Death’s sultry indifference. Her stormy gray eyes, the same shade as the Blade’s hilt, were instead filled with panic.
Killian’s voice was feral as he whispered in Death’s ear, “I hear you like to make bargains.”