I furrow my eyebrows, as if thinking hard. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”
“That’s alright, I’ll explain the rules to you as we go,” he says, offering me one of his bright smiles.
Ten minutes later, I’m laying down my cards with a triumphant grin.
“King’s hand—I win.”
Stratton gapes, but Damia raises an eyebrow at me.
“Why do I doubt this is beginner’s luck?” she says.
I shrug, collecting the cards and reshuffling them.
“Do you remember where you first learned four-man blind, Stratton?” I ask mildly.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Here, in Trova. Some of Palquir’s men taught me it when we were stationed outside Mistwell.”
“So maybe they mentioned back then that four-man blind is played in just about every pub in the land,” I say, dealing the cards. “Not much has changed in eighty years.”
Tira and Kit knew the game better than anyone after years of watching their parents’ customers play it, and they passed their tips and tricks on to me.
“Well done, Stratton,” Alastor says. “You’ve invited a shark to our game.”
I laugh, and we play another round.
“Did you all fight in the War of the Laurels then?” I ask.
“We three did, and Eryx, though he wasn’t in our unit back then,” Alastor explains. “Phaia and Hyllus joined later.”
“How come?” I ask.
Barb, Damia’s serpent, slithers out from beneath her collar and slowly winds her way down her arm. Even though her scaled head is only about the size of a large coin, I shift my hands away, remembering the punctures in the security guard’s skin. But the snake just coils herself up on the corner of the table, her beady black eyes glinting in the lamplight.
“They weren’t overqualified misfits like us, so they were late to the party,” Stratton says.
Damia rolls her eyes. “Overqualified I’ll take, but misfit? Speak for yourself, pretty boy.”
Stratton holds out his hands in defense. “Look, there was a reason the rest of the army wasn’t lining up to claim us in their ranks. Alastor was the best interrogator they had, but no one could stand his rudeness.”
“Fair,” Alastor says. “And Stratton’s an excellent fighter, but he can’t keep his dick in his pants long enough to swing a sword.”
Stratton shakes his head. “You show a couple of general’s daughters a good time, and suddenly you’re persona non grata.”
“And a niece,” Damia adds.
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about Serena,” Stratton says, a lascivious smile telling me he’s reliving fond memories.
“And you?” I ask Damia.
“Oh, well, obviously Damia’s death on two legs,” Alastor says. “But no one wanted anything to do with her because of her family.”
Barb raises her head and exposes her fangs, hissing.
“But, er, that’s a story for another time,” Alastor says, picking up his cards.
The snake settles back down, and Damia gives her a fond pet on the head. My eyes drift to the closed door of Leon’s cabin.
He might be ruthless in some ways, but not when it comes to the people he chooses to trust. Each of these fae found a place in his unit when others rejected them. Their pasts and flaws didn’t matter to him. He was willing to give them a chance to prove themselves, and that’s obviously stood him in good stead over the years. I’ve seen the way the group are around him—they might grumble at him, but they’d follow him anywhere.
