Page 64 of Rivals

The dealer flipped over three of the center cards, and Beatrice’s heart skipped. An ace, a seven, and another nine. Luck was on her side tonight. She had two pairs already: aces and nines.

“We can call off the bet now, if you’re having second thoughts,” Dmitri said, watching her expression.

Beatrice slid her cards carefully onto the green baize of the table. “No.”

Juan Pablo, the King of Spain, was clutching a cigar; smoke gathered overhead, casting the room in a dim haze. Conversations and gossip fell silent. Beatrice was suddenly aware ofeven the quietest background noise: waves lapping against the side of the yacht, the hum of the electricity.

The dealer flipped over the fourth card. It was a king.

“Shall we up the stakes?” Dmitri suggested. A low murmur swept around the table, like wind rushing through leaves.

“How so?” Beatrice asked coolly.

“If I win, you ask your Congress to eliminate the taxes on Russian companies operating in America.”

Beatrice glanced back at her cards, rapidly calculating the odds. Unless he had a pair of kings, which was highly improbable, there was no chance his hand could beat hers. He had to be bluffing.

Yet his features were stern, revealing nothing. She imagined this must have been what his ancestors looked like when they mounted their armored horses and rode into battle—resolute, emotionless, impassive.

Well,herancestors had gone to war, too. She could be every inch as tough and unreadable as he was.

“Then, if I win, you need to help me get more votes for the climate accord.”

“I already promised you my vote.”

“That’s not enough. I want you to help me drum up support. Become the climate accord’s greatest champion.”

Dmitri grinned and looked out over the room. “As you can see, we have a bit of a wager going. In the event Queen Beatrice wins, will you all agree to vote for her climate accord?” He laughed in a way that managed to convey how deeply unlikely he considered Beatrice’s victory.

Some of the observers pursed their lips, clearly reluctant to promise their support, but some—enough—nodded or cheered in agreement.

The footman flipped over the final card in the center of the table. It was another ace.

Dmitri let out a cry of excitement and threw down hiscards. “You’d better polish that tiara,” he exclaimed as the other monarchs burst into raucous shouts.

Beatrice blinked, stunned. He’d had a pair of kings afterall.

“Full house.” He swept a stack of chips, which they hadn’t even gambled on, forward in his eagerness.

“You’re right. You do have a full house,” Beatrice said slowly. “But so do I.”

She set her cards down and watched as Dmitri registered what had happened. He had a full house of kings, but Beatrice had a full house of aces, and in poker, aces counted higher.

He stared at her cards for a moment, shocked, then tipped his head back and laughed uproariously.

“Only in poker can anything outrank a king! Well done, Beatrice. I mean—Your Majesty.”

Beatrice smiled, gratified. “So you’ll vote for my climate accord?”

“Of course I will, and I’ll make sure everyone here does as well. I gave you my word, and a Romanov always keeps his word,” he said gruffly.

Beatrice watched Dmitri disappear into the crowd, accepting condolences and commentary on the game. Her body was coursing with adrenaline, as if she’d just completed some impossible task, scaling Everest or running a marathon.

“That was amazing,” Louise exclaimed.

Sam pulled Beatrice into a tight hug. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been so proud of you! That was an epic display of girl power—like nineties-girl-group-level girl power! It makes me want to put on a glittery wig and belt out pop songs.”

“We can go sing in the karaoke room, if you want,” Alexei offered. He turned to Beatrice. “That was impressive. I’ve been gambling against my father for years, and I’ve never beat him.”