Vassal Sterling D'Este (top 10 books of all time .TXT) 📖

Enyo. From the looks of things, it might make the warrior difficult.

“I’m not so bad in a fight, though your protector here looks like more than a match for me.”

“She’s as sweet-natured as a doe, I assure you. You just have to know the right leverage…” Enyo flicked his nose playfully and then settled more comfortably into his lap, clearly planning on staying for a good while.

“Teach me how to play the game you were cheating at,” she commanded, wriggling her rump against him experimentally.  He smiled down at her before pulling his face into a scandalized countenance and pressed a scarred hand to his chest.

“Cheating? Not I.”He pulled a small cup from a pocket, rattling with wooden dice, wrapping his arms around Enyo so that he could reach the table while keeping her snuggly on his lap. “The game is called Liar’s Dice, and for us to play now, you’d need your own set, but I can still teach you the rules. Besides, we’d need more people than you and your friend here to make it interesting.”

The warrior’s expression did not change at this new development, so the rogue casually ignored her. “Anyway, to start, each player rolls the dice in their cup and peeks beneath to get an idea of what they’ve rolled. Then the fun bit starts.

“Someone makes the first bet: maybe you think there’ll be four sixes or three twos across the table. The people around you either raise the bet or make their own. Then, everyone reveals their dice and those who’ve won their bets get to keep all their dice, and those who have lost their bet, leave one out for the next round.”

Tristan shook the cup, miming rolling the dice and then looking beneath. “Eventually, it gets down to two fellas, each of which have but one dice left. And of course, there can be money bet on individual rolls, who will lose their dice first, who will be left at the end, and on who takes the jackpot.”

He sat back, leaving his cup of dice on the table. “Easy as cake, and I’m not too bad if I say so myself.”

༄

Enyo picked up the cup, giving it a shake so that the wooden dice jangled about. It drew Delyth’s gaze despite the dullness of the subject matter. What did she care about the games of layabouts and thieves?

“So there is no skill involved at all?” Enyo asked, smirking. “And what happens to the loser, at the end? What is the price of losing this game?”

Delyth met Enyo’s gaze while the gambler laughed behind her, the hope evident in that ember stare. Not young, sweet hope like Alphonse, but dark and old. Hope that the answer was as vicious and feral as the Goddess.

“Isn’t it enough that he loses his money?” the man said, clearly jovial.

He couldn’t see Enyo’s face though, her eyes.

They had held the same look when Enyo had demanded the priestess drink Alphonse’s blood. Eager, lustful. Perhaps all of this was a game to her. A game for blood and sex and tribute, winner takes all.

Loser dies.

The rogue launched into what the warrior considered a tedious explanation of all the ways his silly game wasn’t just chance, but also a test of lying, of choosing bets to try and make the other players bet a certain way and lose.

Delyth didn’t listen. She just kept her eyes on Enyo, silent and angry.

The Goddess smiled, perverse creature. She enjoyed Delyth’s ire; it was just another part of the game.

“I see. How could I have doubted your prowess?” Enyo crooned, turning back to the man. She was docile enough in his arms though even as Delyth watched, the Goddess pressed her teeth to his throat, a python sizing up a meal.

And then, the look was gone. Enyo was bored again. “I will go get a real drink. Delyth, stay here with our new acquaintance. Be friends with him.”

As quickly as she had slid into his lap, Enyo was gone again. It seemed as if her body was boneless, graceful, but also eerie in movement—like a cat.

Or a snake.

❂

Enyo didn’t quite make it to the bar top, which was bustling with action.  She had gotten distracted by a very, very large man. He had a bit of a potbelly, but his shoulders were broad, and his beard was black and curling.

He had no hair on top of his head.

Immediately the Goddess caught him looking at her form and smiled, veering off course to greet him.  She licked her lips as she peered up at him. He was a giant of a man and carried an axe—a brutal weapon, meant for smashing and butchering.

“Show me your weapon, warrior, and I’ll show you mine,” she purred. The man growled in appreciation and reached for the wrong weapon, the one between his legs. His friends guffawed, and as quickly as Enyo had been interested in the man, she was displeased.

He had barely reached for her hips, clearly intending to feel their supple flesh, when Enyo’s hand snapped back, then forward. She punched him in the face, his nose snapping with a satisfying crunch. Blood spurted from it comically, and Enyo cackled, gleeful as it rained down on her face and hair.

The giant’s friends jumped to defend their companion from the onslaught of violence, lunging to attack Enyo. She laughed and jumped away, fox-swift, making the men bash into one another and stagger back into others at the tables.

༄

Although opposite in everything from coloring to demeanor, Delyth and the rogue stood as one the moment Enyo’s fist connected with the leering man’s face. The rogue glanced at her even as they both started towards the Goddess. “You grab her, I’ll clear a path,” he said.

Finally, something they could agree on.

The first man that stepped in Delyth’s way fell to the left hook that landed squarely against his jaw. She heard something crack but didn’t slow. Behind her, she was only dimly aware of Tristan breaking a chair over