The Decoy Princess (13 page)

Collin leaned toward the merchant, his eyes carefully away from the man’s cards. “With incentive, I could pull my workers from nets and shift them to ropes. Ropes will be in high demand if we war with Misdev.”

“To the Misdev dogs!” the cheat said loudly. “May they rot in hell.”

“May they rot in hell!” the men returned. The man eating soup weakly joined in, and I belatedly raised my tankard, pretending to drink the swill. Excitement tingled my toes as the cheat slipped the queen into his sleeve and replaced it with another while we drank. It was very quick, and I never really saw it, but my games with Kavenlow assured me that’s what happened.

“Pay the pot or fold?” the cheat asked, his brown eyes innocent as he discarded.

Collin chewed furiously on his stick before tossing in a coin.

“Fold,” said the merchant, placing his cards unseen on the table.

“Me, too,” the cheat said, unable to show his cards and risk someone recalling he ought to have the queen I had thrown away.

Immediately I put a coin in to join Collin’s to further the illusion I was foolish. After losing the queen, I had a very bad hand. Collin won, and he gathered the coins, looking pleased.

The cards went to the merchant, and he shuffled them. “I’m surprised you aren’t at your shops,” I offered as he slid my cards to me. “The town seems to think it’s noon at midnight.”

“People fleeing war do not buy spools of flax,” he said shortly.

“All this talk of war is foolish,” the cheat said. “What does it matter who she marries?”

His stick clamped between his teeth, Collin picked up a card and threw a black wolf down with enough force to almost send it off the table. “I’d rather the princess marry a goat keeper than one of King Edmund’s spawn,” he muttered. “My grandfather came back with his hand black and stinking from the last Misdev war. He lived long enough to touch the sea, then died among the nets he could no longer even mend. And what did he die for? A strip of forest.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised me. “It wasn’t for a strip of forest,” I said as I took up the wolf.

“He died to keep the Misdev devils out of our harbors.”

“May they rot in hell!” the men shouted, and I found myself joining them. My attention wandered as I realized my father almost put King Edmund in our harbors, the very thing my grandfather had fought so hard against. Distracted, I never caught the man cheating, and he won.

“And what do you do, sir?” I asked the cheat as Collin dealt a new hand.

“I’m in trading,” the young man said without hesitation, his eyes on his cards.

My eyes flicked over him. “Trading?” If he was in trading, I was a dock whore. Which I wasn’t. So far. Despite what I presently looked like. “What do you trade in?”

He glanced at me. “Black sheep. When I find a farm with such an animal, I buy it.”

“Black sheep,” I repeated. I discarded a priest, taking up the red sun. I was betting the cheat would take the priest. Instead, he chose from the unseen pile.

“And what is it you spend your daylight hours upon?” the cheat said sarcastically.

My mocking mood went bothered as I realized I didn’t do much of anything. “Purchasing,” I said. “I purchase large amounts of goods for sundry reasons.”

“You tend house,” he said, his tone making it an insult.

“You would be surprised at the amount of planning that goes into one,” I said hotly. “But you wouldn’t appreciate it, seeing as you don’t stay in one spot for the span of a moon’s life—chasing black sheep as you do.”

The merchant glanced at Collin. “Ah, I’m sure you keep a fine house, ma’am.”

“Then why is she leaving it?” the cheat asked.

“The Misdev curs,” I answered, unable to keep my eyes from dropping.

“To the Misdev curs!” the cheat asserted.

“May they rot in hell!” the other men returned.

I watched closely as they drank, but the cheat didn’t shift his cards. I wondered if he knew I was watching. On my final turn, I was lucky in picking up a river card. I had a strong hand containing all the elements. No longer needing my king, I discarded him. The cheat’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he picked it up. I waited for him to pocket it, but when the game ended and I had won, he still held all his original cards.

It was my turn to deal, and I almost missed his treachery in the rush of cards upon the table. The cheat only returned four. The fifth went into his boot as I pretended to slop my ale and Trevor solicitously blotted it up. My eyes narrowed. I was sure it had been the king. It was the only good card he had held.

“Gentlemen,” I said, intentionally shuffling the cards so they threatened to spill from me.

“My—husband used to play a game with me when we were first wed.” I grimaced, putting a tone of irritation in my voice. “We used to play for sweets. Of late he refuses to play anything with me at all. I still recall it fondly, though. Do you know spit in the wind?”

The table went still in speculation. The pot built upon itself quickly in this game, reaching dangerous proportions with four or more players. I knew the cheat would be unable to resist. The two honorable men looked at each other, clearly unwilling to take advantage of a woman with a tankard of ale in her.

But the cheat nodded. “I know it,” he said. “I’ll play one hand. More would be too rich for me tonight.”

“Well,” Collin hedged, “if it’s just one hand.”

“One hand,” the merchant agreed.

I dealt out the six cards per player, a thrill of warmth starting in my middle. Taking a steadying breath, I picked mine up, planning out how to use them. My pulse increased as I anticipated the end, and I concentrated on keeping my breathing even.

There was a jingle as we all contributed a coin. Spit in the wind was too fast for sleight of hand. The cheat’s cards would stay right where they were. Everyone simply played the card of his choice. The highest card won, pulling in the coins along with the cards. The winner then had not six cards to chose from but nine. The losers had five. Play repeated with additional coins being bet until one person had all the cards—and all the money. The winner would have taken six coins and turned it into twenty-four at the very least. I had an even chance of walking away with the pot. I would either win it outright or blackmail the cheat into losing it to me.

The cheat won the first round, then I won the second. The merchant won the third, setting everyone to seven cards except for Collin, who had three. “I’ve got fish offal for a hand,” the man said, knowing he couldn’t come back from such a low position. Spitting his stick onto the floor, he threw his cards on the table. “I’m done. I’ll buy my cards out.”

I stifled a smile. I had been hoping he’d do that. What it meant was he would contribute three coins to the table, one for each of his remaining cards, instead of playing to the end. My pulse hammered as the coins hit the table. I had to win this.

The cheat won the next, and I the next two, then the cheat again. It brought the merchant down to three cards to the cheat’s and my nine each. “That’s as far as I’ll go,” the merchant said, easing his cards down and emptying his tankard. Three more coins joined the center of the table. He remained watching, as did Collin. Both wanted to see the end.

Together the cheat and I laid down our chosen cards. My jaw clenched. I hardly bested his by the color, and the man’s mocking brow shifted to concern.

The merchant leaned toward Collin. “When this is done, I’d like to talk with you. I might be willing to loan you money to hire more workers if they make cord for my shops.”

Collin’s eyes went distant in thought. “I’ll starve if we go to war and I’m making nets.”

I was ahead by two cards. I should act before I got behind, making his concession look forced. “Do you think it will come to war?” I said, surprised at the quaver in my voice.

Immediately the merchant became reassuring and jovial. “Not at all, milady,” he said, his reassurance falling flat on me. “King Stephen dislikes war as much as the merchant guild. Princess Contessa will be wed in such a manner that no one will think to go to war. I can’t see the king abandoning his comfortable slippers to put on boots and march or sail away. Still, it is best to be prepared, eh?”

The cheat made a rude noise and reached for his tankard. Clearly he didn’t care. “Ah,” I said cryptically, thinking of the card in his boot. “But a
king
can find himself in the oddest of
boots
occasionally.” I looked at him squarely, eyes wide and innocent. “And a
queen
often finds herself on the strangest of
arms
—from time to time.”

The cheat froze as he took in my carefully accented words. His tankard slowly descended to the table, and he stared at me. “Is that so?” he said, shoulders tense.

I nodded slowly, confidently, as he forced his shoulders down. “It is. I’ve
seen
it.”

His clean-shaven chin was thrust forward, and I wasn’t surprised when he jostled my ale to spill it as he reached to place another coin. “The cards!” the merchant called, and as he and Collin pushed the discard pile to safety, the cheat leaned close to me.

“What do you want?” he muttered, his eyes almost black in the dim light.

“Lose to me,” I whispered breathlessly, “or you’ll lose your hands.”

The barmaid sighed at the spill so loudly I could hear her from across the room. The cheat kept his eyes upon his cards as she blotted at the mess. I knew he was trying to decide if I would call him on his cheating, and what would happen if he couldn’t escape. He eyed the coins on the table. His breath quickened as his gaze went to the door. I narrowed my eyes in threat.

“Fold or play?” the merchant prompted. The cheat reached for a card in his hand.

“Innkeeper?” I called loudly, my eyes riveted to the cheat’s brown ones. My heart pounded. I knew that I couldn’t turn him in; they might cut off his hands. But cards was a game of not just skill but bluff—and Kavenlow had taught me well.

His mouth twitched, and his thumb rubbed the second finger on his hand. “Ah, hell with it. I fold,” he said, grimacing as he threw his cards to mingle with the others.

The two men leaned back with a sigh. I didn’t reach for the coins, surprised when my exhaled breath shook. I jumped when the innkeeper bumped my shoulder, brought by my earlier call. “I’m buying the table a round of ale,” I said. “It was a wonderful game, gentlemen. If you will excuse me?” I sat on my bench and smiled at each in turn as my pulse slowed.

The merchant rose immediately, knowing from experience a lady wouldn’t put such a large sum away while anyone was watching. “A pleasure, ma’am,” he said, inclining his head and going to the casks where the innkeeper was drawing four tankards.

The bench scraped loudly as Collin rose with a pained slowness. He had a new stick between his teeth already. “Ma’am,” he said shortly, almost hobbling as he went to join Trevor. I wondered if he suffered from bone-ache, and the stick was from a willow.

I turned to the cheat. For all of three seconds I resisted the urge to cock my eyebrow, then gave in, making him scowl. There was no joy in taking his money. I had been lucky.

“That’s my money,” he said as he placed seven coins atop the pile to pay for his loss.

Immediately I stiffened. “Not anymore, it isn’t.”

He leaned closer, clearly going to say something. I could smell horse sweat on him, and earth.

Glancing at the door he muttered, “Purchasing? You’re good. You’re very good.”

On edge, I shifted all but one coin into my bag to pay for the ale. “If you mean I know how to play cards and spot a cheat, yes. If you mean I cheat? You are sadly mistaken. I could have won it all from you honestly, but I’m in a hurry.”

Silent, he glanced at my bowl of soup before he pulled the king from his boot, the queen from his sleeve, and a priest from behind his collar. “We made a good team, didn’t we?”

My jaw dropped. “This is my money,” I said as I stood. “All of it. Get out of my sight before I tell the innkeeper and you’re thrown into the pillory.”

He stood slowly, clearly not alarmed as the cards were now upon the table and not on his person.

Gathering them all, he wedged them in a stiff leather box and tucked it behind his shirt. The man had his own cards. How could he not be a cheat? “Good-bye, Lady Black Sheep.”

I frowned at the connotation as he went to get his ale. He said a few words to the merchant and cord maker before he left, swallowing his tankard in two breaths to make his Adam’s apple bob.

My bag was substantially heavier, and knowing the target I was, I motioned for the innkeeper. The flush from my win vanished as he brought me a new tankard. “Do you have a son who can accompany me as I shop tonight?” I asked.

He nodded and took the coin I had left on the table. “I’ll fetch him, ma’am,” he said. “Though if I were you, I’d wait until morning.”

“Everything will be gone by then,” I said, clutching my arms about myself. He walked away, his head nodding in understanding.

The merchant and Collin were deep in conversation as I waited for the innkeeper’s son. I felt ill, the fish soup sitting uncomfortably in my knotting stomach. My first stop would be to get a new dart pipe. I expected the cheat was a thief as well, and despite the assurance of an escort and a topknot of deadly darts, I was alone and vulnerable.

My eyes closed, and my jaw clenched. My parents were dead, I was a beggar’s get, and the only person I had left in the world had let me live a lie. And there wasn’t a soul I could tell.

Nine

“No horses!” I flicked my gaze past the stableman to the stalls. “What are those?”

The man took the lantern down from an overhead hook and rubbed his whiskered face.

It was blessedly warm inside the stable, but my arms were still wrapped around me. To my disgust, the innkeeper’s son had been half-drunk in addition to being half-witted. After fending off his groping hands, I had left him on a corner singing of women to finish my shopping alone. I was safer without him.

And I wasn’t as out of place as I had originally feared.

Scores of people were in the streets shopping by lamplight. Being under a terrible time constraint and too dispirited to care, I had accepted inferior everything: my blankets were one thickness not two, my cooking utensils were made of copper and wood instead of clean metal, and the change of clothes shoved dismally into the bottom of my pack had been worn before.