Page 58

“I have coin.”

Her hand paused mid-air, the Queen of Clocks perched between her fingers.

“Always the mercenary, Lady Bryer.” Kato flicked a coin purse into the air, catching it in his palm with an easy grin.

Aimee considered him. “Are you sure you want to do this? The last time you played me, I relieved you of more than just your coin.”

Kato grimaced as if remembering. And who knew, maybe there was a sliver of recollection left in his wine-soaked memory—a sense of wordless, unexplainableuneasethat something terrible had happened.

The Emrys brothers had one thing in common—their hatred for the court season. And while Skylen bided his time attending parties and hopping from bed to bed, Kato liked to drink himself into oblivion and wander the gambling halls.

That’s where Aimee first met him. She’d been playing the tables since she was 16—when she’d discovered how easy it was to relieve men of their fortunes with a few coy smiles and a little sleight of hand. Her stepfather wouldn’t approve, of course, but it was the one bit of rebellion she’d ever allowed for herself. An endeavor lucrative enough to warrant the risk. The only value to be found in Picolo was the blood, sweat, and tears her father had put into it, and Arys had pissed that away in the first few years. She had big dreams—dreams that went beyond being some demi-Fey nobody always forced to do what others said. And if she was going to rub elbows with the rich and famous, she needed funding.

Kato dropped the coin purse onto the table with a decisive thunk. “Deal me in.”

Aimee’s smile was nothing short of feline as she swept a hand over the table, destroying the game to start anew. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She shuffled quickly, deftly, throwing in a few swivel cuts and waterfalls for flair.

“That’s a nice ring, by the way,” Kato said, watching the outrageously large ruby on her right hand catch the light. “I take it I paid for that?”

“Among other things.” She tilted her head just so, letting the matching earrings sparkle.

Kato leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. “I was glad to see your name on the list of survivors.”

Aimee dealt the cards. “I never took you for being sentimental.”

He shrugged. “I’m not.”

She gathered her hand, eyes skimming the spread. “I suppose I’m glad you’re not dead either.”

“How’s Arys? Still terrible?”

Aimee trilled pleasantly, “I think about murdering him every day.”

Kato matched her bet and raised. “So this must be like a vacation for you. No evil stepfatherloomingover your shoulder.”

“Oh, yes, the constant threat of death hanging over my head is, indeed, very freeing in comparison.”

He chuckled. “You’re good.”

“Excuse me? I don’t follow.”

“You know that thing where you smile when you actually want to scream? You’rereallygood at it.”

Kato was considerably more perceptive when he was sober. She didn’t like it.

With a graceful sweep of her hand, Aimee fanned her cards across the table. “Curse.”

Kato glanced at his cards, then hers. “That was fast…”

“Even for you.”

She dealt the next hand. Curse was played in three rounds. They both made their bets going into the second, and she took the opportunity to turn the conversation.

“What are you doing here?”

Kato’s eyes bobbed from his cards to her and back. “I’m getting my ass handed to me, I think…” He put down two cards.