Page 12 of Heart of Thieves

I release Laurel’s hand, pocketing the voratium, and begin to deal the cards. “Do tell.”

He leans in so close I could count the freckles on his sunburned nose. “You know when someone is bluffing. Not because of tells or tics, like the rest of us, but because of your . . . magic.” He says the last word on a whisper, as though afraid someone might overhear. His eyes flick warily to Laurel, who gives him a knowing smile.

I chuckle. “You’re not very religious, it seems.”

“I’m not a zenithic,” he retorts, nose wrinkling. Laurel stiffens next to me, and I press my knee to hers to reassure her.

“But you believe in the gods?” I set the deck between us and flip over a two of stars.

Forsyth runs a hand through his straw-colored hair. “I do.”

“So you’re one of the reformists,” I conclude with a grin. “You don’t agree with what the zenithic priests claim about my brother and me being charlatans. You think I’ve been bestowed with real power. That I’m starblessed. Here to cleanse the earth and guide it back to belief or some such nonsense.”

Laurel’s hand wraps around my elbow tight. A warning. I may play the Liar for her purposes, but insulting the gods? That might be too far. I give her a careful nod to let her know I understand.

A muscle twitches in Forsyth’s jaw. “Where else could your power have come from if not the gods?”

“Where, indeed?” I repeat. “You make the first bid.”

As if noticing the deck for the first time, he blinks, then shakes his head. “I’m no fool. We’ll play Riptide.”

“A game of strategy, not bluffing,” I say, lounging back in my stool. “You want an even playing ground.”

Forsyth tips his head. “Aye.”

“How would you feel about making things a bit more . . . fun? A wager of secrets. Whichever of us loses must reveal one to the other.”

Laurel’s grip on my arm relaxes. She sees where I’m going with this. Rather than finding a way to get rid of Forsyth, I’m looking for intel on other people to track down. A way into St. James’s network.

She’s pleased.

Forsyth swallows, considering.

“What could you do with a secret from a star made flesh, eh?” I ask softly. “What sort of life could you buy with such a treasure?”

He licks his lips and nods. “Very well. A secret it is.”

My mouth curls. A smile Forsyth will read as cunning and Laurel will read as confidence.

But it’s a lie, just like the rest of me.

CHAPTER FOUR

LOLA

The pain that rushes through me at the sight of my father is one that should have dulled by now. After all, I’ve been meeting with him as the mythical seaspawn I’ve named Nocturne for weeks.

Yet his eyes locking on mine cleaves me in two.

Once, I might have hated him. The girl I was before the Liar’s Dice Tournament would have. But now my memories echo with his strangled cry from the secret revealed on Nic’s stage, when he slammed his fist into the corpse he thought was Enzo, when he believed I was gone. And because of that, my anger has changed.

No longer do I hate him because he didn’t come for me, didn’t try to rescue me, didn’t look for me. I hate him now for all the choices he made that led us there in the first place.

He bargained my life in exchange for something he valued more. The father I thought he was never would have done that.

So, though the little girl inside me longs to sink into his embrace, to breathe in the familiar scent of coffee and orange liqueur that cloaks him like cologne, the hardened thief I’ve become holds her distance.

“How have you been, Nocturne?” Father asks, gaze traveling across the illusory mist of my face, the snakelike smoke of my hair.