Chapter Twenty-Five After #4
Then Valerian swung a leg over the back of an empty chair, tall enough to pass over it, and sat soundly at the card table.
The smallest huff of breath left his mouth, chest rising and falling between the folds of yet another shirt open near to the navel.
Not once did his eyes leave Cat’s face, his stare enough to keep her nailed to her chair.
Her gaze wavered only an instant, flashing to the feast of bare skin and curling chest hair.
She ventured she could draw it from memory, the lines of hard muscle, the scars and the tattoos, every looping necklace of beads and gold and precious gems. A single burning emerald stood out among them, catching her eye. It was new to his collection.
Her mouth went dry, recognizing the cut of the green stone.
Morovant was stripped of everything before they executed him, Cat knew, the sight seared in her mind. He wore only a prisoner’s shift when they tied him up, one limb to one horse. No plumed hat, no velvet coat, no bracelet of fierce emeralds winking green fire.
She assumed the governor had helped himself to the jewels.
But not this one. Her head tipped, studying it. Trying to imagine the path the stone took from Archenport, under the thumb of the Meridian navy, all the way to Valerian Kane.
But the emerald was not so puzzling as the other addition to his treasures, sticking out sharply as a broken finger, small as it was.
A rope of Lyrian-blue stone, beads smaller than pearls, with a battered gold amulet half hidden amongst the other chains. It was an odd shape, and an odder color. Darker, older. A cylinder with notches along its length, barely bigger than a knuckle joint.
Cat had never seen such a necklace before, and she knew every piece of him.
Intriguing.
But not more than the man in front of her, who held her fate in once-treasured hands.
Her pulse thumped. Suddenly Cat regretted her choice of dress, the bodice fitted enough she worried all the room might be able to see her heart ramming against her ribcage.
He opened his mouth, and Cat saw a fate worse than the noose. She knew what it was to face death on the waves, having seen it before. Black waters and the crushing weight of the sea.
Then Valerian grinned, the smile sharp and bitter, his single gold tooth a demon’s fang.
“Deal me in, Vex,” he growled, leaning in his usual way, the legs of his chair balancing, a boot on the table, and one on the floor. Precarious, cocky, and entirely Valerian in nature.
In her pocket, Cat’s fingers fell away from the pistol, and her mind spun. She barely dared to hope, but kept her face blank, buying whatever time she could to puzzle out what lay before her.
A trap? A parlay? A moment of reprieve for old time’s sake?
Valerian always did like to play with his food.
Again, she glanced through the crew of the Covenant. Some of them were smirking. But none of them rippled with anger. They did not look like men betrayed but men amused.
Ana always was the smartest of them, she thought, pieces slotting together.
Her pulse thumped again, more desperate.
And against her nature, hopeful.
He never told them what I did.
Cat drummed her fingers. There was a chance yet, however small.
Valerian Kane was a ruthless man, but he carried a foolish heart.
The cards shuffled, slapping against each other as Vex dealt around, agile despite his missing fingers. Cat checked her hand with a passing glance, knowing Red River was not only about the cards one held but the cards one did not.
With a clink of metal, she counted out six silver coins with the Esperese cross and pushed them to the center of the table. Vex wrinkled his nose but matched with one Arcayan crescent, the half-moon coin an etched gold.
“Place your bet, Captain Kane,” Cat murmured, watching him think. He finally dropped his gaze, letting her observe him without scrutiny.
Again, she eyed the strange necklace, trying to place it. The beads were Lyrian stone, mined from the islands, the pale color of tropical shallows. And the odd gold piece—perhaps from the Southern Continent?
Like a jealous miser, Valerian counted out exactly six coins from the purse at his belt, matching the pot but not raising it.
Cat could not help but put on a show, her lips puffing into a pout.
“Oh, come now, Captain. I know you’re worth more than that,” she said.
His gaze snapped to hers, and she realized his easy manner, the jovial captain returned, did not reach his eyes.
“I am,” he answered flatly. “You aren’t.”
A low murmur went through his crew, whispers passed behind raised hands. Cat pretended to ignore it, holding her composure, though she could hardly control the heat in her cheeks. All she could control was her own actions, and the game in front of her.
There would be no pushing the pot, not with Valerian. She would not be able to bluff him out of a jeweled ring or stake in a ship. He long knew better than to rise to Cat’s bait. There was only decisive victory, and the glory of a good kill.
“Very well,” she answered, discarding her entire hand in a flip of heavy paper. It was a vicious, daring move.
Again, the crowd whispered, a few gasping. Those who did not know before saw clearly—the lady at the table was no beginner. And those who did know, pressed in.
“The Widow Rose,” someone murmured, and Cat could not help but smile.
Captain Kane was a legend, but she had her own legends too.