“Hopefully, they’ll just leave them be until the storm clears. Then they’ll show themselves and probably try to sneak out of town to sell them off.”
Argos shrugs. “It’s a good guess.”
“Either way, we can’t do much about it at present. I just hope Rustion, Nisa, and the rest of the folks at his place don’t suffer for our inaction. I wonder if they are employed by him or they simply took shelter, leaning on his good nature.” I wave my hands. “No use going on about it now. We’re stuck and so are they. Let’s eat and try to stop fretting.”
Cyrus brings us some beer in pewter mugs that keep the brew pleasantly cold. Soon, we are at a table with a few others playing cards and making increasingly fantastic bets.
“If you defeat me in this hand, I’ll hang from the beams and sing you a song,” Argos says.
“What about you singing is a win for me?”
“You’ve never even heard me sing, have you?”
“No, but I assume you have an awful voice or you would’ve tried busking before doing dangerous magic.”
“You, my scary witch, assume wrong.” He stands and begins belting out a song about an innkeeper, three goats, and a bard which details an incredibly questionable polyamory affair.
The whole place dissolves into laughter as he takes a bow and ends his little ditty.
I put my dried beans on the table. “I take it back!” We didn’t want to try to use real coin since most of us only had a few on hand. Argos had suggested beans and the idea had caught on well. “But what do you get if I lose?”
The others excuse themselves to join another group playing dice near the back of the pub. It’s just Argos and me now.
“How about a kiss?” he suggests.
I roll my eyes. “Please.”
“Fine. Then let’s up the risk. How about we forget kissing and singing? Whoever loses the next hand must remove a piece of clothing.”
“Right here in the middle of the pub? I mean, I’m game, of course, but most folks don’t have my level of not giving a piece of shite for what others think.”
“I’m the same way. Although, perhaps we need to take this game upstairs?”
I’ve had just enough beer to sayyes.
Laughing, we drag a small card table up the stairs. Always up for fun, Cyrus is applauding us as we work the table through Argos’s doorway.
The room isn’t spinning. I’m not hammered. I’m just woozy from all the twists and turns of the day and ready to throw it all away for a while. Argos deals the cards. His hands mesmerize me with their quick and graceful movements.
I have a killer hand. “Get ready to expose yourself, good sir.”
“Oh really? I don’t know if this is going to go your way.” He shifts one card behind another and purses his lips.
After another drink and five more fast hands of cards, Argos is only wearing his undershorts and I haven’t removed a single item. With every loss, the minotaur took his sweet time pulling off his belt, tunic, boots, socks, and finally trousers. He kept his gaze on me the whole time and to say I was heated up would be a massive understatement.
I tip my hat at him. “Perhaps you should give in before this gets serious?”
He leans forward on the table and my mouth waters just a little at the set of his horns over his intense face.
“Never.”
I play my four empress cards, ease back, and grin up at him. “I’ll take those shorts now.”
He stands, grinning wickedly, and tugs off his undershorts. I lean back and admire the view.
“We should make this a little more fair,” he says, going to a bag he has stashed in the corner. He pulls out some rope and holds it up. “What if I tied you to the bed?”
“You’d die trying.”
