gods, was he tempted to screw the game, tell them all how the hatred was false, a game. Only now he wasn’t so sure whether the hatred was real or not. She was playing, but he wasn’t sure whether it was their game or one of her own, whether she’d tempted him here for revenge. Her arms slid over his shoulders and she circled her hips on his lap, slow and silky, her mouth curved next to his cheek. Just like she did when she wanted to get a mark onside, give them a hint of what they might get, and would never get. A game, a sham. A con.
The whisper was a warm breath by his ear. “You followed. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
His own murmur had his lips on her neck. “I had to, Josie love. I can’t not.”
“Good. Wait for my call, and we can be rich as kings. Richer.”
She kissed him then, hard and furious, a brief, tantalizing glimpse of what she was, pushing him back in the chair. Then she stood up, gave the chair a shove and sent him sprawling in the filthy straw. “That’s all you’ll ever be getting from me, Van Gast, excepting maybe a bullet in the face. No matter how much these dogs tell you otherwise. And I’m keeping your ship. My ship now.”
She strolled out of the inn to a roar of approval from the rest of the racks—seeing Van Gast in the straw was almost better than a fight, it seemed.
Skrymir held out a massive hand to help Van Gast up and pulled him to one side, out of earshot of the catcalling racks. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“Thanks. I think. Is she—” Van Gast didn’t know what to say, what to ask. His mouth still burned from the kiss, his hands from her warmth against him, making his head spin, making him crazy. Close but not close enough. He found his purse and it was still there, still clinking with gold. “I’m still alive and I still have my money. I’m taking these as good signs.” No robbing, no killing, which left the delight. Perhaps.
“Last week she was moping.” Skrymir shook his head, maybe in sympathy. Maybe not. “The week before, silent. Yesterday she cleaned out her gun while muttering your name and where she was going to insert the barrel. Today—I don’t know. Her mind’s on one thing. A twist, Kyr’s mercy, the biggest twist you ever thought of. Can we trust you? Do you trust her? Because you didn’t, couldn’t, and that’s hard to forgive.”
Van Gast ran his hands through his hair. All this honesty was enough to bring him out in a rash. “Yes, she can. And I’ll trust her over everything else.”
“Are you ready to prove that? That’s me asking, not her. You hurt her bad, Van, though I reckon you had your reasons. I won’t let you do it again.”
“I’ll prove it any way you like. I’d oath you on it if I thought you’d take the word of a rack.”
“Then may Kyr have mercy on you, because you’re going to need it. Kyr withdrawing her mercy is the proof of a woman when she’s crossed. And you crossed Josie in the worst way, for a woman, for a Gan and she’s both.” Skrymir planted a meaty hand on his shoulder that might have meant to be comforting, but only made Van Gast worry for his collarbone. “Look sharp, Van. She’s here for revenge, and some light robbery while we’re at it. You want to prove the trust? You want her back? That’s your chance, and I think she wants you to grab it, more than that, she needs it—you, whether she knows it or not. Listen hard for when she calls. Don’t fuck it up this time.”
Chapter Five
Rillen hurried along the pale corridors, past the blocky statues and badly daubed murals of dolphins and sharks and kraken that he was sure were only there because some previous councilor had heard of art and decided he must try some. His footsteps echoed among them, in and out of open archways that lined the corridor, through the plants that grew and tangled in every corner.
By the time he made it to the council chamber, he was hot, wet with sweat, and irritable. He held it in though, at the sight of the mages up on the dais. One of their rebonded slaves fussed around them and another watched Rillen with blank eyes,