Jess had wandered off to look at the wares. Kestrel did not need them.Īs for the whereabouts of her escort, she was wondering the same thing. Well, as for a slave, they had been left at her villa. And she knew what they would say.Īnd if she had no friend or family available to escort her to the market, where was her slave? Kestrel guessed the words people didn’t dare whisper as she passed. She saw it in their eyes as she threaded through market stalls offering open sacks of spice, the scents mingling with salty air that wafted from the nearby port. No, General Trajan was going to want to know why his daughter was in the city market alone. It wasn’t the gambling that would infuriate her father, or the company she had kept. This hour of thrilling risk was going to cost her. Kestrel especially liked it when they cheated. They flipped cards with feral tricks, swore when they lost, swore when they won, would gouge the last silver keystone coin out of a friend. But sailors were much better adversaries than the average aristocrat.

The silver wouldn’t begin to pay for her silk dress, snagged from the splintery crate she had used as a stool. The sun had lowered, and caramelized the color of things, which meant that she had played cards long enough to be noticed by someone who mattered.Ĭards wasn’t even her favorite game. “Stay,” said another, but Kestrel cinched her wrist-strap velvet purse shut.

This is what Kestrel thought as she swept the sailors’ silver off the impromptu gaming table set up in a corner of the market.

The Winner's Curse by Marie Rutkoski