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Grant’s smile was wan. “It calms my nerves. Besides, you’re going to have to learn how to gamble if you intend to be part of this crew.”
I had no intention of fitting in with Demery’s crew, but that was beside the point. “I already know how to gamble,” I returned archly. “I grew up in a tavern, Mr. Grant.”
“Ah, yes, you have alluded to that before.” He leaned into the doorframe, boot still lodged in place. “Where? Maybe I passed through.”
I tried to close the door again.
“Well, then, I don’t believe you. You’ve probably never even held cards before.”
My pride rankled, ridiculous and wholly inappropriate.
Grant saw my expression change and pounced. “Prove it,” he teased, leaning into my room.
I opened the door wide, shouldered past him, and sat down at Demery’s big table.
We played late into the night, slapping down cards and gambling away odds and ends from our pockets. I lost the solem Demery had gifted me, but consoled myself there would be more on the way.
Around us, the ship groaned, feet passed across the deck and the sky beyond the gallery windows was swallowed by snow. We had no chance to see the Mereish ships with our naked eyes; the storm was fully upon us.
The wait was strained. Tension ate at my stomach, but I channeled it into the game, feet braced wide beneath the table so I wouldn’t slide off my chair with each beleaguered roll of the ship. Grant did the same, his focus narrowing as time passed. We raided the galley for bread and cheese and uncut carrots, and wrapped ourselves in piles of blankets against the cold when Bailey ordered the stoves put out. We discreetly lit a candlelantern—Demeryhad nodragonflies—andhung it in the center of the cabin, both knowing it was probably unwise, but neither taking the step to care. We discussed the games we played, taunted and teased, but neither of our hearts were in it.
“How did you become a highwayman?” I finally asked, half because the question had been bothering me, and half to distract him. He’d won two games in a row.
Grant laid down a card. “Debt. Many of my stories hinge on debt.”
I laid a card of my own, eyeing him promptingly.
“My father’s a count,” Grant confessed. “But I’ve five older brothers, no responsibility and no real inheritance. Father intended to send me into the army at seventeen, which was a terrible idea by all accounts. Luckily for me, a week before I was to head off to some Saint-forsaken fort on the north coast, I met a beautiful woman who was unreasonably good at dice. I found myself rather destitute, but she offered to wave my debt if I joined her in a certain venture, which may have included waylaying travelers.”
My stomach turned, and it had nothing to do with the rolling ship. I thought it unlikely that Grant had been connected to the highwaymen who’d attacked my own carriage in the Lesterwold, but I couldn’t know for sure.
I laid down Rosser’s Mereish coin as my wager and eyed my hand. Its three coiled serpents glistened in the lanternlight. “Is this Mereish?” I asked, off-topic, and pointed to the coin.
“Mm. I’d say.” Grant laid down two pieces of his own and resumed his tale. “That woman was Abetha Bonning.”
My mouth fell open. So much for distractingGrant—nowI was the one completely preoccupied. “You knew Abetha Bonning?”
“I did! Lovely woman. Terrifying woman. You two really do lookalike—honestly,it’s a bitbizarre—butshe’s ten years your senior and not nearly so prudish.”
I was growing so used to his jibes that I only flicked him a glance. “Then what happened?”
“Abetha never works in concert for long, so after I paid off my debt I struck out on my own. That was six years ago.”
My suspicion abated. If Grant worked solo, he hadn’t been involved in my carriage’s capture. “And eventually you were arrested?”
“Queen’s Guns dragged me out of my favorite tavern.” Grant laid down his hand. “You won.”
I glanced at the cards in surprise and grinned widely. “Well, would you look at that.”
It wasn’t until near midnight when we heard the rumble of the cannons being run out, the coordinated shouts of gun crews. Grant left the table, opened one of the hatches in the stern windows and peered through.
I crowded close behind him, a heavy blanket clutched like a cloak. “What do you see?”
“Ships’ lanterns.” Grant stepped aside, holding the hatch for me to look through.
Sure enough, two lanterns glowed out through the veil of snow, rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves. They were eerie things, diffused and faint, but the threat of them made supper spoil in my stomach.
“Where’s the third ship?” I asked.
