Page 2 of The Crow Games

“Maven, don’t be like that.” She stuck her lip out even farther.

“Don’tmakeme be like that,” I groaned. “You know it isn’t safe for us. I don’t mind you flirting with them a bit, but having a night out with those two—”

“Not just those two. The whole city!” Mischief gleamed in her sable eyes, and her smile filled her cheeks. “Bram likes you,” she cooed.

A fluttery heat warmed my stomach, a sensation I hadn’t experienced in longer than I could remember. It made me feel centuries younger, an unwelcome reminder that even I was still susceptible to loneliness sometimes. “I’m quite certain they’re both smitten with you . . .”

I admired her magnetism, but I didn’t envy it. It was safer for witches like us not to draw attention.

The twist of her lips was smug. She leaned her hip against the counter behind her. “That’s not true. I have it on good authority that Bram’s mind is full ofyou.”

I scoffed. “He talks to you when he visits. Not me.”

“You won’tletBram talk to you. As soon as he comes around, you growl at him and shuffle off to do chores.”

“Exactly. How can you be so sure that he . . . ?” My jaw went slack as realization dawned. Fluttery hopeful butterflies died slow deaths in a pit in my abdomen. “Did youpossesshim? You didn’t! Please say you didn’t. Oh, you can’t do that, Lis!”

Chewing her cheek sheepishly, she didn’t deny it, and every overzealous survival instinct I’d honed over our years in hiding took over, narrowing my vision. The pulse at my throat surged.

Our powers left a mark for those with the ability to see. They drew unwanted, divine eyes. The gods weren’t omniscient, but their spies could be anywhere. My gaze snapped frantically from one corner of the shop to the other, searching for signs that shadowy nightmare spirits or beastly garm hid between the shelves.

“I can’t always help it.” Lisbeth slid away from the counter, palms up like she was surrendering to a gunman. “He bumped into me, and I bumpedintohim for just a bit . . .”

I pressed my fingers over my eyes. “Oh, please tell me they didn’t notice!”

“It was for a heartbeat, no longer than that,” she insisted. “You saw him. Perfectly undisturbed, he was. Bram didn’t notice a thing, and neither did Saul.”

I raised a brow at her. “His name is Seb. Not Saul.”

“Is it really . . . ? Never mind that.” Lisbeth crossed to me, steps measured as though she were approaching an angry crocodile and not her very ancient and very cranky sister. When I didn’t try to bite her—an act of great restraint on my part—she tugged puckishly at my arm. “Bram was too distracted by you to notice a thing. I saw it. His thoughts were full of you. You treat everybody like they could turn on us at any moment, and apparently he likes that in a woman.”

I repressed a grin. Then my nose wrinkled. “He’s awfully young though, isn’t he . . . ?”

She waved my words away. “Everyone is young compared to a witch like you. They’re both adults and very pretty all cleaned up. Didn’t you see them?”

“I saw them, but—”

“It’s just for a bit of fun, Maven. He’s a strong arm to hold on to, to dance with, to stay warm beside on a cold autumn night. If you’d prefer to dance with a woman, I’m sure the festival will provide many lovely options. Don’t overthink this. It’s not as though we’re going to keep any of them.”

“We’d better not,” I grumbled. “Witches have been hanged for much less than keeping someone against their will.”

“No one would hang me for that. No one would tell on me.” Her lips curled villainously. “Who would complain ifIkidnapped them?”

A chuckle snuck out of me. Leave it to my sister to charm someone she’d imprisoned. “Perhaps they wouldn’t . . . Let me think on it.”

“I’ll give you ten whole minutes. Six hundred seconds to think on it, come to the correct decision, and dress in what I’ve laid out for you.” Lisbeth’s pushiness made her an excellent salesperson. When it was time to add up the books, I appreciated that about her. Now, it grated.

“I don’t know, Lis.” I put my back to her. That little frown of hers had wielded a merciless power over me since she stood no taller than my hip, and I busied myself with the sideboard display of oils and perfumes, straightening them and avoiding her.

She cut into my peripheral with that powerful pout of hers. “Maven,” she cried, “put away your tired excuses, I beg you. I adore this place, but I’m sick of being a sad hermit trapped inside it.” Lisbeth gestured dramatically at the shop like the walls were made of prison bars instead of peeling wallpaper. “Aren’t you sick of it too?”

“About that—”

“I already know you want to leave. You’re as subtle as a dull ax with your heavy hints.” Her sigh was long-suffering. I moved to refill vials from the supplies in the drawer below, but she took my jar captive. “Three years in Kosh is probably longer than we should linger this time, but just hear me out.”

“Much, much too long to linger.” I snatched back the jar. Lavender water sloshed out the opening, coating my hand. I wiped it dry on my apron.

“Give us this one night of fun—real, reckless, ruleless fun.Don’tmake me pack a bag that weighs more than I do in case we have to flee,” she said, counting off her points on her fingers. “Don’tdemand that we stay on the outskirts of the festival.Don’trefuse to talk to anyone. Dance with me, for the sacred Crone’s sake! Do this, and tomorrow after it’s all done and we’ve recovered from drinking far too much, we’ll make plans to move.”

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