Prelude (Underworld Lucian Fanfiction)

82 - Chapter LXXXII: A Queen of Spades

One hour later.

It was not still there.

Weylan now gripping his chair, fully cognisant of what was happening, but entirely helpless to do anything about it. Miss Jeanne Antoinette having little more to say on the subject of her tell when she could simply thrash her opponent into dust as her rejoinder. The lycan-master losing the equivalent of a groom's annual salary in the space of twenty-five minutes, after which he began increasing his debts in the form of memorandums. Each written on the back of a card flicked into the centre of the table. Like a king burning his wealth to stay warm. Unable to see when he'd gone too far.

Lord Foster bowing out early—citing a preference for horses over cards—thereby leaving the six of them: the lycan-master, Miss Jeanne Antoinette, Rena, himself and the Cavendish twins. Currently styled as the Honourable Matthias Cavendish and his sister, the Honourable Hannah Cavendish. The only loose ends left at the table, despite their invitation to Hangrove suggesting a long history of familial discretion, if not loyalty.

Two of the society darlings, whose parents, like Master Raze and Lady Allegra, represented a new mark of affluence. A generation whose lives were boldly lavish behind closed doors. Often closeted from a less honourable mortal world where their skin colour was not welcome—and by that virtue, associated with wealth. The brother possibly open to a bribe considering his lack of nuance; while the sister seemed more a passive figure—one who'd do anything to avoid embarrassment, thereby providing a point of leverage for any with the right connections.

Which he had.

Indeed, the more Weylan thought about it, the more he realised the entire night could be salvaged. That rumours were simply rumours; and provided he gave a true and exacting report to Master Raze, they could easily convince Miss Jeanne Antoinette to return her winnings before the following evening. Thereby sweeping the entire matter into the same hole where they'd buried all the lycan-master's other problems, confident that in the grand scheme of immortality, history was written by the Lycan Privy Council, not the Line Rumour.

All of which sounded very official on paper, but rapidly burned when subjected to the fire of circumstance or how quickly news could travel from a second-floor games room to every corner of the den. The lycan-master starting the fourth round just as Miss Hannah suddenly got to her feet. Smelling of extreme embarrassment. Causing the rest of them to look past the lycan-master's shoulder to where Miss Freyja Gottfridsdatter was now standing in the door.

Beautiful in her evening wear. No longer the Northern garb she used to wear during the initial visits, but the long draped panels of the south. Satin and velvet paired with a geometric necklace made of ivory. Like a marble statue come to life, save where the fractures were starting to show. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around the other hand as she stepped into the room. Seeing all that was occurring and looking momentarily bereft...

...before she smiled. "Hannah, could you please inform Lady Allegra that we've finished in the Great Hall?"

Miss Hannah was not slow. "Yes, milady."

The lady gave a graceful nod, now gliding to the sideboard. "Matthias, would you escort her?"

It was like a waltz.

Matthias having missed the mood, clearly a bit miffed to leave the game, but willing enough to see his sister on her way. The twins leaving. But only three of them watching as Miss Freyja retrieved the decanter, bringing it to the table to refill the glass of her lord before she said it. Unable to look at him.

"You bet the watch?"

He continued dealing.

"I did."