The Winner's Curse(21)
If it was true, what then?
She paused, nursing that glow of a laugh that remained inside her, the question she had posed to herself unanswered.
Someone—a man—came up behind her and snaked an arm around her waist.
Not flirtation. Aggression.
Kestrel sidestepped and spun, pulling her dagger from its sheath.
Irex. His dagger was drawn, too.
“A fight, dear Kestrel?” His stance was easy. He didn’t know how to play Bite and Sting, but his skill at weapons outmatched hers.
“Not here,” she said stiffly.
“No, not here.” His voice was soft. “But anywhere, if you want it.”
“Exactly what do you think you are doing, Irex?”
“You mean, a moment ago? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I was trying to pick your pocket.” His tone hinted at a coarse double meaning.
Kestrel slid her dagger into its sheath. “Theft is the only way you will get my gold.” She walked from the cover of trees and saw, with shaky gratitude, that the party was still there, that the sound of porcelain and spoons still tinkled over low talk, and that no one had noticed anything.
No one, except perhaps Arin. He was waiting for her. She felt a flash of something unpleasant—embarrassment, perhaps, as she wondered how much of this afternoon he had overheard. Dismay to think that he might have witnessed that last exchange with Irex, and misunderstood it. Or was she troubled by something else? Maybe it was the thought that Arin knew perfectly well what had been taking place behind the trees and had made no move to interfere, to help.
It was not his place to interfere, she reminded herself. She had not needed his help.
“We are leaving,” she told him.
She let her bad mood seethe into the silence of the carriage. Finally, she couldn’t bear the vicious cycle of her thoughts, the way they kept returning to Irex and her stupid decision to humiliate him at Bite and Sting. “Well?” she asked Arin.
He sat across from her in the carriage, but didn’t lift his eyes to meet hers. He studied his hands. “Well, what?”
“What do you think?”
“About?”
“About the party. About anything. About the bargain we made that you could at least pretend to uphold.”
“You want to gossip about the party.” He seemed tired.
“I want you to speak to me.”
He looked at her then. She found that she had clenched her silk skirts in a fist. She let go. “For example, I know you overheard about Senator Andrax. Do you think he merits torture? Death?”
“He deserves what he gets,” he said, and went quiet again.
Kestrel gave up. She sank into her anger.
“That isn’t what’s bothering you.” Arin sounded reluctant, almost incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth.
Kestrel waited.
He said, “That man is an ass.”
It was clear whom he meant. It was clear that no slave should ever say that of any Valorian. But it was magic to hear the words out loud. Kestrel breathed a laugh. “And I am a fool.” She pressed chilly hands to her forehead. “I knew what he’s like. I should have never played Bite and Sting with him. Or I should have let him win.”
The corner of Arin’s mouth twitched. “I enjoyed watching him lose.”
There was a silence, and Kestrel, though she felt comforted, knew that Arin’s understanding of the afternoon had been fairly complete. He had waited beyond the laran trees, listening to her and Irex. Would he have continued to do nothing, had something else happened?
“Do you know how to play Bite and Sting?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“Either you do or you don’t.”
“Whether I know or don’t doesn’t matter.”
She made an impatient noise. “Because?”
His teeth flashed in the late, shifting light. “Because you would not want to play against me.”
11
When the general returned home and heard the news about Senator Andrax, he didn’t wait even to wash off the dirt of the previous days. He climbed back on his horse and spurred it in the direction of the prison.
It was afternoon when he strode back into the villa, and Kestrel, who had heard his horse coming from where she sat in one of her rooms, came down the stairs and saw him crouching by the pool in the entryway. He splashed water on his face and palmed it over his hair, which was spiky with sweat.
“What will happen to the senator?” asked Kestrel.
“The emperor doesn’t like to punish by death, but in this case I think he will make an exception.”
“Perhaps the kegs of black powder were stolen, as Andrax claims.”
“He was the only one besides myself with a key to that particular armory, and there was no sign of forced entry. I had my key with me and have been away for three days.”