Page 23 of A Fate Everlasting

The shift was almost imperceptible, but I felt it in my ribs.This wasn’t a game. It was a test. And if I played it right, it might cause enough of a distraction that I could make that phone call. I needed a minute to piece together the number, anyway.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a fan.” I leaned in. “But I like poker.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Dorian smirked, brandishing a deck of cards from the pocket inside his jacket, dealing me in. They were chartreuse and strangely patterned, the back of them covered in little diamond shapes with circles in the center.Eyes.For a heartbeat, I swore I saw them move.

Dorian moved leisurely, fingers trailing over the cards before flipping the first one face down. His gaze flicked to mine, all slow amusement. He liked watching me squirm. I liked the idea of poker. The reality? I had no clue how to play, and clearly, this was not the time to learn.

“Ante up.” Dorian took a slow sip of whiskey, watching me over the rim of his glass. Shriveled notes fell onto the table, along with gold coins. Dorian sighed, exasperated. “No,idiots. Verbal bets and offers. Try using your brains for once.”

No one moved.

Dorian sighed, running a finger along his lower lip. “Fine. Since none of you are remotely creative, the player with the weakest hand gives me… an offering.”

“Boo!” Rosaline pushed out her bottom lip. “We all know what that means, Dorian. Playing with money is more fun, less draining. Besides, we can’t risk our scores like that.”

“No, it isn’t,” Marcus snapped. “We aren’t allowed further than this town. Common money is basically useless to us.”

“It buys our pints,” Hugo pointed out. “Sounds like someone has a losing hand.”

“Sounds like someone is keen on cozying up with Rosaline,” Marcus countered. “Who says we can’t bet with both?”

“It’s settled. We play with common money and I take what Iwant from the loser.” Dorian snapped his fingers, and the barman arrived with top-shelf single-malt whiskey, pouring him a glass, neat. His head snapped to Rosaline first, and she tossed another coin into the pile.

I glanced at my cards, heat prickling down my neck. The game continued and my eyes narrowed on each of the players, trying to establish their tells.

The cards were all wrong. Not suits, but something like tarot.The Fool. The Nine of Swords. Death.I knew nothing about cards like these, not really. How were they assigning value to them? What constituted a flush?

“Check,” Marcus said, shaking his head as he avoided placing another bet.

“Hold on,” I interjected. “What are the values?”

“It’s not about values,” Dorian placed his hand face down. “It’s about what it pulls from you.” I glared at him. I wonder what he expected me to offer. A secret? A dare? I raised anyway.

“Raise.” I dropped a twenty-pound note onto the pile. Dorian’s smirk deepened, like he was in on some private joke. But my logic was sound.DeathandThe Hanged Manhad to be high-value, right?

Five minutes later I still couldn’t figure out how the hell anyone was playing this game. Hugo raised his bet on the last round, and I wasn’t feeling confident. As everyone revealed their hand, I placed mine proudly in front of me, ready to watch the look on Dorian’s face. He stared at me through narrowed eyes, his mouth contorted with suppressed laughter, and my insides churned.

Then he leaned in, whiskey-warm breath curling against my cheek. “You should have folded.” He paused, smiling, before announcing to the group, “Arabella has the weakest hand.”

A hush rippled through the group, followed by snickering.The heat that flared up my neck had nothing to do with the vodka. My heart thudded dully, my mouth dry. Dorian wasn’t just playing with cards. He was playing withme, and he was winning.

“I’ve never played with tarot cards before,” I snapped as the group snickered. Ruby was laughing—until she wasn’t. She caught my eye, sobering instantly. “I’m not following your rules when you don't even follow the rules of the game. These aren’t standard cards.”

“They weren’t supposed to be,” Dorian said. The room tilted slightly, the air thick and syrupy. I tried to steady my breathing, but something about the eyes on the back of the cards made my head spin. Or, maybe it was just the cheap vodka in my drink.

“Don’t be boring,” Rosaline goaded.

“Ah, man, Dorian,” Hugo shook his head, mussing his straight blond hair. “Give the girl a break. It’s her first night.”

“A bet is a bet, Hugo. It could just as easily have been you,” Dorian replied. I hated the way his cheek dimpled slightly but only on one side when he smirked. He was all arrogance.

“Ruby.” My voice was low, urgent. I nodded toward the back. “Bathroom. Now.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.” The bite of metal pressed against my wrist as I stood, Dorian’s rings. “The offering, Arabella?”

“Fifteen minutes, Dorian. Surely patience is still a virtue, even at Evermore?” He said nothing. Just watched me as I walked away on shaking legs, the burn of his gaze so tacky I felt it all over my skin.

Something dark flickered across his face. I didn’t wait for his answer. I slung my bag over my shoulder and slipped toward the bathroom, holding my breath against the sour reek of spilled ale.

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