“Shan, did you ever play Miss Match at your foster home?” Jahree asked, glancing in Shan’s direction as they sat in one of the inn’s dimly lit rooms while the officers met with Raylee. Shan frowned as if pulling up a memory he’d rather leave buried. “All the time. The other kids thought I could feel the ink on the cards.” Jahree raised an eyebrow. “Can you?” “No,” Shan replied with a slight smirk. “But I was still the best in the home. My sense of touch isn’t as sharp as my hearing or sight, but it didn’t have to be.” Tellic, who had been listening, cocked his head in curiosity. “What’s Miss Match?” Jahree shrugged nonchalantly. “Just cards.” “Just cards, my tail,” Zan laughed, clapping Tellic on the back. “It’s gambling. Though, you foster kids had nothing on the merchants of Resdelk.” Shan’s eyes sparked with interest. “You play?” “Not for coin. My dad would’ve blistered my bottom, and my mom would’ve blistered my ears if they’d ever heard I cheated a foster kid out of money.” He grinned, his expression growing mischievous. “Do you know what it’s like having your ears blistered through hearing charms?” Jahree chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t say I do, but I imagine it’s as bad as being dropped while someone tries to levitate you upside down.” Shan shuddered at the thought. “I’m glad I grew up in Yotiuy.” “You aren’t immune to magic. You wouldn’t have been dropped,” Jahree pointed out. “Sai and Tey are both good with magic.” “So... do you want to play?” Zan asked, his tone as casual as if he were suggesting a stroll. “Actually, I was thinking,” Jahree mused, “we need some money, and gambling winnings don’t leave the same trail as a banker’s note.” Shan’s brows knitted together, then raised in understanding. “So, you want to play the locals?” “If it’s a foster kid game, how will locals know how to play?” Tellic asked, his curiosity piqued further. Jahree grinned, the slyness of a schemer glinting in his eyes. “It’s not the game that matters, Tellic. It’s how you play.” “You mean, you cheat,” Tellic guessed, a touch of disapproval coloring his tone. “Come on, Tell, let’s go grab an ale while these two conjure up their mischief,” Zan suggested, ushering Tellic toward the bar with a light-hearted nudge. Tellic followed, casting an inquisitive glance over his shoulder as they walked away. Once alone, Jahree and Shan exchanged knowing looks. They pulled out a deck of cards and played a couple of quick hands to synchronize their movements. With a few discreet signals, they could communicate without a word. After a few rounds, they were confident. Time to put on the show. They descended into the crowded dining room, and Jahree chose a table within sight of Zan and Tellic. After a few rounds of casual play, a few patrons took notice and gathered around, drawn by the quiet yet calculated way they dealt and played the cards. “Deal us in,” a burly man finally demanded, plopping down in a chair across from Jahree. Another man took a seat beside him, eyeing the table with a glint of suspicion. Jahree glanced at Zan, who subtly signaled that he couldn’t see one of the new player’s cards. Jahree nodded in understanding. It wouldn’t matter much—Jahree had no intention of going all-in. The trick was to let others win sometimes, too, keeping the flow casual and unsuspecting. As the games continued, Jahree expertly executed the moves they’d rehearsed, all while making it seem like a genuine back-and-forth between players. The beauty of Miss Match was that it wasn’t about the rules of any specific game but about a hidden language of gestures and expressions. And tonight, Zan had even incorporated a few new signals into the mix, adding a fresh layer of subtlety. Over time, others joined to watch, and the stakes rose. Jahree made sure not to win every hand, sharing a few victories with the newcomers. He and Shan each slipped portions of their winnings into his pocket discreetly, careful not to draw attention to the full extent of his success. But as the crowd thickened, so did the tension. One of the larger men at the table, a Yarb with a permanent scowl, leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the modest stack of coins before him. “You’re done?” he growled as Jahree laid down the deck. Jahree shrugged, gesturing to the coins on the table. “If I keep playing, either I lose my winnings, or you start accusing me of cheating. Best to quit while we’re all ahead.” “I’m already accusing you,” the Yarb grunted, rising from his chair. The crowd stirred, and Jahree could feel the atmosphere shift from friendly banter to something darker. Several others stood as well, forming a loose semicircle around Jahree and Shan. From the corner of his eye, Jahree noticed the bartender and his hired muscle slipping quietly into the back room, clearly deciding not to get involved. Jahree held up his hands, palms out, trying to defuse the situation. “If I were cheating, wouldn’t I have won more? Just take the money and call it a night.” The Yarb sneered, his hand inching toward the hilt of a blade strapped to his side. “Only if you wanted to be obvious about it. I’m not letting you get away with this.” The knife gleamed as he stepped forward. Jahree edged back, quickly calculating their options. They were outnumbered, and the few patrons who might have sided with them had already retreated to safer corners of the room. “No need for that,” Jahree said, trying to keep his tone calm. “Take your money. I’m not walking away with anything you can see here.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m letting you cheat me and walk out with so much as a copper?” “I’m giving it back,” Jahree insisted, nudging the coins toward him with a steady hand. “You take the winnings. I’ll take my leave.” The Yarb barked a laugh, a cruel glint in his eye. “I’m taking more than your money tonight.” He advanced on Jahree, fingers tightening around his blade. #fantasy #magic #dragons #hiddenlands