Ace of Shades (The Shadow Game #1)(42)

Levi couldn’t argue with his logic, though it irked him how easily Reymond had taken the lead...even if Reymond was the one who’d suggested they survey the Sauterelle in the first place. Whereas Levi had always needed to work for his authority as a leader, being a lord came naturally to Reymond.

“Fine,” Enne said.

It also irritated him how quickly she’d agreed.

“Well, fine, then,” Levi muttered, then made for the stairwell.

Following the striptease act was a duo juggling knives. They weren’t ordinary daggers—they were hooked in a way that faintly resembled scythes. Levi studied the two girls tossing them, searching for the trick. They spun between throws, danced with blades between each of their fingers, played with the steel as though it were ribbon. It must’ve been a hoax.

But then he noticed the white hair of one of the performers. She was a Dove, a member of the most feared gang in the city. The assassins. It was no trick, then. He was surprised the Sauterelle let her perform, lest she frighten the audience. Or was the hair part of the show, too?

Levi slid into an empty seat at his selected table and put down a few volts. He was directly beside the handsome card dealer, who was very much the sort Levi liked in men. Delicate lips, rosy skin, all soft and boyish.

“I haven’t played here in ages,” Levi said casually.

“You don’t look familiar,” the dealer replied.

Levi gave him a moment, wondering if he’d recognize him after all. Half the other dealers here were Irons, and besides, Levi was famous to anyone who enjoyed Tropps. But when the handsome boy remained silent, Levi regretfully continued, his ego wounded. “I only come here on occasion. I like the arts scene. Pretty different from the university.”

The dealer nodded, showing he’d heard, though he had to pause to finish out the hand. Levi folded the first round, as he always did. It gave the impression he wasn’t an aggressive player. Gave the others a false sense of ease.

“South Side, eh? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“It doesn’t suit me.” Levi shrugged. “But I’m good with business.”

The hand ended, and to his luck, Levi was dealt an excellent new one—not that he needed one to win. But he preferred not to resort to cheating, unless he thought he might leave the den with his pockets lighter than when he’d entered.

Fifteen minutes later, Levi had won the pot. He slid the small pile of chips toward himself with satisfaction.

“You play a lot?” the dealer asked.

“On occasion.” Levi glanced over his shoulder. “It’s the crowds I like. No other place like this. All sorts come here.”

“I don’t really pay much attention,” he said blandly.

Levi realized he wasn’t likely to find either much information or fun with the dealer, so he decided to try for a different form of entertainment. He ordered himself his favorite drink, a Gambler’s Ruin, and planned to bet his entire pile on the next hand, even if his cards were mediocre. He liked playing it cocky, especially when the stakes got high. He needed to dig himself out of the rut from last night and lift his spirits.

By the time he had his drink in hand and a new music act had taken the stage, Levi was in an excellent mood. He plucked the cherry out of the bourbon and twisted the stem between his teeth as he played, trying to tie it in a knot. It was easier to focus on this than maintaining his poker face, especially when he felt so certain he would win.

Besides the handsome but disappointing dealer and himself, there were two other players at the table: a woman who was as large as two Jacs put together, and a boy who was making a point to match Levi’s every bet.

Levi held two two-of-a-kinds. Certainly the boy could’ve held something better, but it wouldn’t matter—not if he broke first.

The dealer passed out a new card. It did nothing to help Levi’s hand.

But still he bet.

The woman folded; the boy kept going. Levi sat up straighter, took another sip, added another chip. Tropps was a waiting game, one of the few where the bluff was worth more than the cards themselves. The players began with three cards but, if they played out the whole hand, ended with twelve. That rarely happened, though—players folded, players broke. Especially after the first play, seven cards in, when the players were required to turn over at least three cards.

Levi turned over his cards first, revealing the lower of his two pairs. The boy’s cards were random, mismatched of suit and number. Worthless. Yet still he bet.

Levi spit the knotted cherry stem into his glass. The night was getting interesting.

But in the end, the boy broke, as Levi knew he would. Levi pressed him up until the eleventh card, then, finally, he folded. They each showed their cards. The boy had four sixes, all hiding in his hand, while Levi had finished with a full house. Levi would’ve lost, had they reached the last trick.

It was his favorite way to win, knowing he’d been within an inch of losing.

The boy, to his credit, didn’t look irritated. He nodded at Levi with approval.

They played ten more hands. It took Levi only a few to pick out the boy’s tell. Whenever he was bluffing, his eyes drifted more often to the stage, searching for a distraction to hide his expression. He wasn’t as handsome as the dealer, but he had an interesting face. His skin was several shades darker than Levi’s, his hair black, straight and tied at the nape of his neck. He had a small tattoo of a pair of dice beneath his jaw, and he wore a smoking jacket with a gold tie.