Ilain’s expression turned confused just as the announcer called out the names of the first two fighters. “Bartras the Bludger and Eogahn the Axe.”
Ilain scanned the two men walking toward the ring. “Why do they all have such ridiculous names?” she asked.
Rising, Ethenn withdrew his hand. “Because it’s expected,” he said flatly. “Excuse me, I need to see to something.”
Without waiting for their approval, he slipped to Rafferty’s side at the card table. Coins of copper, silver, and bronze were piled high in the center as the final cards were dealt. Ethenn glanced at Rafferty’s hand and grimaced. “Bad luck,” he said casually.
Rafferty pulled back his winning cards incredulously. “Don’t tell them that,” he whispered dramatically. Then he smiled atthe men with a falsely nervous chuckle. “My friend doesn’t understand Flock’s Fleece. I’m not bluffing, of course.”
Greedily, the men around the table smiled, thinking that Rafferty was, in fact, bluffing. They each added to the pot, sure of their success. When it came to Rafferty, he thumbed his cards anxiously, saying, “Time to reveal then?”
Across the table, the men laid down their hands.
Rafferty let out a low whistle, seeing one man’s trio of kings, the figures holding a crook in one hand and a sword in the other, and a pair of princes. “That’s a good one,” he noted. Then he laid out his run of five with matching black ivy leaves under their numbers. “Unfortunately, I was telling the truth. I wasn’t bluffing.”
As one, the men blanched with disappointment.
“Pleasure doing business, chaps,” Rafferty said, scooping up his winnings.
There were grumbles of discontentment, but as none of the men could accuse him of cheating, they let the pair go.
Once they’d found their way to the far side of the room, Rafferty slipped his winnings into his money pouch at his side. “You need something, little Lox?” he asked pleasantly.
“I need you to start some bets on the fight,” Ethenn said.
Rafferty raised his brow. “Oh, yeah? I can do that. What’s the take?”
“I want people betting against me,” he said.
“Won’t work.”
“Why not?”
His light eyes flickered around the tavern. “These gents won’t stand against you,” he said quietly. “The first round, Imayget some good bets against you, but you’re going to win. And then, you’ll win again. And I’m going to be stuck convincing a shepherd his prized ivory ewe has spots.”
Ethenn didn’t flinch. “I’ll take some hits.”
“Somewon’t cut it, Lox.”
“I did this for eight years, Raff. Give me some credit.”
Rafferty raised his brow. “You think you can fleece them?”
“If you want to convince a shepherd his ivory ewe has spots,” Ethenn raised his brow, “throw dirt on her when he isn’t looking.”
Rafferty sniggered merrily. “You’re a rotten scoundrel.”
Having heard the exact sentiment from his uncle before, Ethenn said, “I know,” then turned away.
Most of the tavern occupants had already risen from their seats to surround the ring in the corner. Men and women stood on chairs and stools to see over the crowd. Thom and Vayden peered over in interest but remained in their seats. Brea surveyed from her vantage on the raised platform, likely criticizing the fighting stances of the men in the ring. Meanwhile, the rest of the troop ignored the fight.
When the first pair concluded, the announcer called out the winner: the Bludger. Cheers and boos reverberated through the room. Ethenn stepped over to the table with Rafferty at his side. Thom looked up at their approach. “Should I be concerned?” he asked casually.
“No,” Ethenn said.
Thom turned to Rafferty. The weasel gave a snide grin. “Certainly not.”
“Now,I’mconcerned,” Vayden remarked. “What’s happening?”
