“It’s your turn,” Drake offered helpfully.

“I know,” Gigi replied tersely.

She took a sip from her tankard, ears twitching in frustration. Gigi stared at her cards, hoping the numbers and suits found on them would change if she stared them down hard enough. How in the seven hells was he so good at this? When she suggested they play a game, she intended to win. However, they were six hands in, and she hadn’t won a single one. She should have been more suspicious when he suggested cards so enthusiastically.

“I thought you said you hadn’t played this before?”

“I haven’t.”

Drake shuffled his cards in his hand nervously. Every few moments, he would scan the tavern, making her nervous. She still hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask about whoever was after him. Did he think they were close? A sigh escaped her lips, and she didn’t want to spoil their last date before they started training with such a sour topic.

“Ugh, I fold,” she said in defeat. Her ears folded as she set her cards facedown on the table. Damn him.

“Really?” Drake asked in surprise.

“If you weren’t allowed to play, how, by the gods, did you learn?” she said, irritation soaking her words.

At that moment, a clatter sounded in the tavern. Drake jumped up from his seat, body tense and ready for a fight. It became apparent quickly that a server had just dropped a tray. The patrons of the bar stared at the strange human. He sheepishly looked to the ground and sat back down.

“Sorry,” he said.

“We can go?” Gigi offered.

Drake shook his head. Suddenly, Gigi felt terrible that she had envied the man before her a moment earlier. She knew she didn’t actually know what was going on in that head of his. In some ways, Drake reminded Gigi of a blank canvas, but she knew the truth was he wasn’t. He was simply a painting that had been hung in a room it was too dark for her to see. However, she wanted to set the room ablaze with light and reveal his truth.

“I wasn’t allowed to play, but I could watch,” he said finally.

“Wait, so you just watched? They didn’t let you play. Why?” Gigi frowned. Drake nodded.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged.

Gigi’s mind wandered to her upbringing, and while there was tragedy, there were games, joy, and silliness. Flour fights with her siblings, and flipping over a board game when she lost, looking up at the stars as a family, were a river of good memories. She gritted her teeth. Drake had never gotten to experience any of that. An urge to give him the home he had never had bubbled within her, to show him the life he had never had the chance to live.

“You just learned from watching?” She asked.

“Sorta. I learned the real game from watching. Sargent Cid taught me the rules of the cards,” he said, tapping the table.

“The real game?” she asked, perplexed.

Drake nodded and flipped over his hand of cards. “There are the numbers and suits, right?” Gigi eyed the cardboard royalty in front of her and agreed. “Some beat others, but what’s important is nobody knows what everyone else has. You can win with a bad hand just by seeing how your opponent reacts to theirs.”

“What do you mean?” Gigi leaned in as he spoke.

“The real game is reading the players. For instance, every time you have a good hand, you smirk and flutter your ears,” he said with a smile.

“No, I don’t!” she protested.

Drake laughed. “That last hand, I knew you would fold.”

Gigi perked up, bringing her drink to her lips. “I’m listening,” she said skeptically, taking a sip.

“When you have a bad hand, you get frustrated. You stop talking and start staring down your cards.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

She said nothing, sipping her brew some more and growing annoyed that, somehow, she was so easy to read. She thought back to their games. What had Drake been like? All she could think of was that damn cute but annoying smirk. Thinking back, she couldn’t recall anything special that he did other than ask the odd question. Questions she was beginning to suspect he already knew the answers to.

Gigi finished her drink and slammed it on the table. “Whatever, let’s go one more game!”

***

Drake laughed, happy that she was undaunted by the challenge. He dealt their cards, eyeing his with the same placid expression that had been driving his opponent crazy all night. No, he hadn’t been allowed to play with the other men. When he was younger, he had thought it terribly unfair. That was until he had been allowed to play in a secret game, one the captain was never to find out about. Sargent Cid and his mangy salt and pepper beard had set it up just for Drake.

However, once the cards were on the table, it became obvious that this would be a unique game. The men he played with yielded to Drake and folded at every turn. They would never challenge him, no matter how bad his hands or obvious his tells. They let him win, though he didn’t know why. At the end of the game, Drake had them keep their money. Taking it felt wrong. He had asked Cid why the men had thrown their pay at him.

“They’re scared of you, lad,” Cid told him afterward.

Drake considered this. He knew the men were uneasy around him, but he never thought the fear in their eyes was solely because of him. There had always been the idea that the nearby battlefield and the promise of death brought these men to cower. Cid told him the truth. These were the same caliber of men he had ferried to their gods in the thousands, and they knew it.

“You wouldn’t know this, but kings don’t take losing well,” Cid laughed.

“I’m not a king,” Drake demurred.

“Maybe not, but to these soldiers, you’re a god of death, lad,” the sergeant said, scratching under his eyepatch. “You don’t beat a god of death at cards. Sometimes losing is winning.”

Drake remembered those words as he sat in the tavern and watched the goblin woman grow frustrated before him. She must have a bad hand. He looked at his own. It was good. Great even. He shuffled them absent-mindedly, flipping them back and forth.

“I bet,” said Drake.

Gigi glared at him from behind her cards. “I bet and raise two shells,” she grumbled.

Drake looked at her and then his cards. “I fold.”

The goblin sighed in frustration before shock waved over her face. She stared at him for a moment. “I won?” Drake nodded and shrugged, admitting defeat. “I WON!” Gigi pumped her fist in the air. “Another round over here!” Gigi called to Uvara, the bartender.

Drake smiled to himself. Cid had been right. Seeing her happy was worth more than winning a thousand hands. Sometimes, losing really was winning.

***

Gigi shut her eyes to try to keep the world from spinning. It momentarily worked before even the inside of her mind began to warp and contort. Perhaps she had enjoyed her mead a little too much during their games. It had been so much fun, though. She groaned and buried her face into Drake’s shoulder. He had been gracious enough to offer to carry her when she tried to stand from her stool and fell. Now, he cradled her as he strolled through the night toward home.

“How you doing there, champ?” Drake asked with worry.

“I don’t feel good,” she replied.

“Can I help?”

“I like being in your arms,” she said in a haze. Memories of the joys of the night and the morning's obligations swirled in her head. Tomorrow, they would start her training for the fight after their chores for the bakery were done. Excitement mixed with a buzzing nervousness in her chest at the anticipation. Then, a worry she had been pushing back all night came slithering back to her: the knights after Drake.

Her drunken mind failed to hinder the concern this time, and a great sadness began to swell within her. She imagined faceless men in gleaming armor shackling a bent and broken Drake. Then, dragging him in chains out of her life and back into the hell he had escaped from. She thought of his scars and wondered how many were from battle and how many were from bondage.

Fury quickly burned away her sorrow. I won't let them take him. As she listened to his heartbeat, a resolve steeled within her. Gigi would fight to protect him. Even if the gods themselves came for Drake, she would stand in their way.

“I won’t let them take you!” she exclaimed in her stupor.

“Let who take me?” Drake asked, perplexed.

Gigi’s eyes popped open. Had she said that out loud? Her inebriated mind tried to find a cover but managed only to draw a blank. She sighed. It was time to ask him.

“Drake…the knights the witch mentioned, they’re looking for you, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, they are.”

Even knowing it was the truth, hearing him admit it made her heart throb with ache. She curled tighter into him. “If they come, I’ll fight them,” she promised. His heart beat faster against her.

“Gigi…”

“I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t want you to fight them if they come for me. That’s my burden. I can’t let you get hurt because of me…I’m not worth it.”

“That’s bullshit, put me down!” Rage coursed through her veins. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Not worth it?! Did he value his life so little? He complied, and she stumbled to her feet. She spun to face him, her eyes full of fire. “You once told me that I mattered despite what anyone else thought. Well, this is me telling you that despite everything that was taken from you, everything you’ve done, and whatever you think of yourself, your life matters, Drake! It damn well matters to me!”

He took in her words in stunned silence. She wondered if he would try to argue or refute what she had said. Instead, his shoulders sagged, and his gaze met hers again. For the first time, she thought she saw a glimmer of hope in his frosty blue eyes. “Thank you…Gigi.”

She responded with a fang-filled smile and hug that was probably too hard. “Anytime,” she said into his chest. She looked up at him with eyes that suddenly felt very heavy. “Now, please pick me up again.”

Drake laughed as he swept her off her feet and into his arms. She quickly found her groove against him again. As sleep began to invade her senses, she wondered if they should sleep in his or her bed that night. Gigi’s last thought before nodding off was they would sleep in her room. The door had a lock.