he offers a shrug. “I guess it’s just not your day.”
The girl falls back, bewildered. “But I could have sworn … Which one’s it under, then?”
I watch the merchant’s hands, which use a mix of both Ker time and Valukan air magic to slip the shell from his sleeve and back into the middle mug with lightning speed before revealing it fully.
Still not used to seeing multiple magics used so fluidly, my heart skips at the sight. It might be nothing more than a parlor trick, but it’s one this boy’s skilled at.
Defeated, the girl groans and runs her fingers through her hair dramatically. “That was going to be my next guess. I thought I had it that time!”
And both times, she had.
“Gotta train your eyes to be nice and sharp like mine,” says the merchant. “You could always try again if you feel up to it?”
Though the girl looks ready to sacrifice whatever money she’s got left in her pockets to prove she can do this, I’ve no intention of letting her go broke for a rigged game. Not to mention that I need a way to scope out this town without Bastian and Casem breathing down my neck, and this kid’s given me an idea.
“Do you fancy a game, Vataea?” I ask, ignoring Casem’s tired groan.
A grin curls wickedly onto her lips and she loops her arm in mine. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Wait a second,” Ferrick calls as we start forward. “Did I miss something? What are we doing?”
Bastian shrugs. “I’ve found it best to just follow along, mate.” The buckles of his boots clink quietly as he tails us, and Casem and Ferrick follow a second later. Ignoring the protesting huffs and annoyed comments, Vataea and I push our way through the crowd, not stopping until we’re directly before the merchant’s table. His eyes flick up to me, skeptical.
“Would you mind if I try?” I ask with the sweetest voice I can muster, though I don’t wait to take a seat. The girl who’d previously been playing turns to me as if ready to protest, but I slip off the hood of my cloak and let the shock register. It doesn’t take long for the quiet gasps and whispers to spread like wildfire through the streets. Thanks to these parchments, now all of Visidia knows my face.
“Your Majesty!” The girl scrambles to her feet, mumbling a stream of apologies as she half bows and half curtsies before stumbling away. “Of course!”
Vataea takes a seat behind me.
“The queen wants to play my game?” The merchant tries to be charming about the way he says it, but beads of sweat form a line above his upper lip. This close, I see he’s younger than I thought—perhaps fourteen or so—and it’s clear he’s processing whether it’s worth letting me win. He’d be foolish not to. I’m the queen of Visidia, after all. And a queen should always look her best before her people.
By how much he sweats, he must know this. But as I press a solid gold coin onto the table, starved shadows darken his eyes. Though I’ve no doubt he makes good money from his scheme, a single gold coin is likely worth a week’s work for him.
“Don’t take it easy on me,” I tell him earnestly.
Determined now, the merchant nods and shows me that the shell is still beneath the far-right mug—and I intend for it to remain there. Because seashells come from the sea, after all. And mermaids rule the sea.
The mugs begin to shift. Slowly at first, then impossibly fast. The moment the merchant’s time magic kicks in and he’s about to slip the shell back into his sleeve, Vataea begins chanting quietly from behind me to keep the shell in place with her magic. I pretend to keep my eye on the mugs all the while, but as his speed increases, it’s impossible. My eyes have never been trained to follow time magic, and even if my life were on the line, I’d die before I was able to confidently guess which mug contains the shell. Vataea, however, is prepared.
The moment the mugs stop moving, the tip of her fingernail grazes my left arm, so gently I almost think it’s a trick of my brain, and so casually that no one else would notice it.
I point to the left mug.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” the merchant says as he lifts it. “I’m afraid you’ve chosen—” The crowd roars, and the merchant’s face blanches when he