of envy. “I have magic, but no stage. Casine’s sure as hell doesn’t breed entertainers, so the circus became a platform. You have to chase your spotlight where you can, right?”
Kallia nodded, for she understood better than anyone.
“Now, enough talk.” Canary thrust a hand out to the empty seat beside her. “You still have to earn your entry into these fine tents. Ever played before, prima donna?”
The group surrounding them ooh-ed and pressed closer as the dealer on the other side shuffled. “Of course she hasn’t. Not with these cards, at least.” Between the older woman’s fingers, the cards flew from one hand to the other, effortless. “The girl is as much an outsider as your strange little gang.”
Kallia knew that cranky voice and had to turn to the dealer to believe it. “Ira?”
The seamstress gave a minxish half-shrug without breaking her focus.
“What are you doing here? What about your shop?”
“Those poor, lonely dresses. How will they manage?” She blew out a scornful sigh. “It’s my day off. I didn’t live this long only to sew. Besides, shuffling cards is good for the mind. And it’s cozy in here.” Neatly weaving two sets of cards together by the edges, she folded them back together. “Are you in?”
The precision of Ira’s movements captivated her. Kallia had hardly frequented the card tables back at Hellfire House. Sometimes, she’d played with Jack after they’d taken their meals. He wasn’t much for card games either, though he played her with the same kind of polish and expertise with which he handled others. He paid attention, observed, and won the game before it was even over. A tough one to beat, but with other players to contend with, she might stand a chance.
She slipped into the seat next to Canary with a sweeping glance across the table. No one else sat, opting to remain an audience over their shoulders as the cards were dealt. She’d seen enough of them at Hellfire House—Jack’s cards carried a simple design, black squares with spiked pearlescent white numbers—but these were foreign to her.
They appeared older, more traditional. In flashes, she spotted faded numbers along the corners of most, then more elaborate illustrations across others. All accompanied by little symbols etched alongside them. Squares, triangles, circles, and stars—the shapes scattered across the city.
“These are rare cards, ladies.” Ira dealt a hand to each player facedown. “My special collection, passed down in my family. They stopped printing them ages ago.”
“A discontinued deck,” said Canary, suddenly intrigued. “What’s the story there?”
Ira had passed out a small pile of cards to each player, guarding the rest of the deck under a clawed hand. “Not quite sure,” she muttered, scratching her head. “Might be the way they can tell pasts and futures if you know how to read them.”
That captured everyone’s interests. The Starling twins whined about how they were never told they held their futures right in their hands, while Kallia merely tapped a finger on her pile, contemplating what may lay in hers. “How could simple playing cards reveal such a thing?”
“Anything you draw by chance tells a little about yourself. It’s fate’s way of making fun, if you’re willing to see it.” Ira leaned on her elbows, eyeing the two players. “Now, this game is called Assembly. The first person to assemble a four-card hand I call out wins. So, say I want you to assemble the nonroyals”—she flipped through her deck, and pulled out a Handmaiden’s card with a star at its corner—“the fastest person to assemble a group of same-suited face cards without crowns is the winner.”
Canary released a low, ready whistle. “Oh, that’s easy.”
“You think so, birdie? There are an awful lot of cards to go through.” Ira used two fingers to push the main deck forward. “Go on. Draw one and decide if it suits your hand. Toss it in the middle if it doesn’t, but remember, your opponent can always pick up whatever you drop if they decide to forgo drawing a card, so be smart. And no cheating,” she growled. “You only need ten cards on hand, and I don’t like those who try forcing their luck. Neither does fate.”
“Why would we cheat?” Kallia scowled. “We’re not playing for anything.”
Canary’s face lit under a small, devilish grin. “We need to play like we’re fighting for something, otherwise it’ll make for a boring game.”
“A more dangerous one, maybe.” Ira stared hard at the cards before them. “Don’t joke about making deals here. It’s bad luck.”