Chapter 23: The Last Table

Marlo's POV

The kitchen table at Highcrest seated twelve, and the housekeeper had put every good chair at it.

She had also laid a white cloth.

Nobody had the heart to tell her it was a poker game.

The envoy sat at the head with a fresh deck and a ledger.

Caius sat at the foot with his hands flat on the wood, and he did not speak.

The Alphas from the half circle stood along the wall.

Winnie stood behind my chair with her arms crossed and her chin up.

Her mother sat beside her, knitting.

Dane sat across from me.

He had washed his face in the sink, and he looked like himself again, handsome and sandy and reasonable.

"One hand," the envoy said. "Five cards, one draw, one round of betting. The stakes are on the cloth."

I laid the IOU on the white cloth, flat, so everyone could read my name.

Dane put nothing down, and the envoy wrote that in the ledger.

"My word," Dane said.

"Noted," said the envoy, in a voice that said it was worth very little.

The envoy dealt.

I picked up my cards, and I did not look at them for long.

I had always known how to look at a person.

It was what I was trained for, the first thing the Healers taught me.

You listen to a body, and a body cannot lie to someone who is listening.

Dane's pulse was slow and steady under his collar, the way it always was.

I could hear it from across the table, a soft even tap.

"Open," the envoy said.

"Check," Dane said.

"Check," I said.

We drew.

Dane took two cards, and his pulse did not change.

I took one.

The envoy turned to him.

"Your bet."

"I'll bet," Dane said, easily.

"My name against the paper."

His pulse jumped.

It was only a tick, a small quick stumble, and I knew it.

I had heard that stumble every time he had said, quiet bond, it's just quiet.

I had heard it when he told me I didn't need to read the chat.

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