A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)
A Game of Hearts and Heists: Chapter 11

Stirling and I arrive at New Imperium Park early. The park is an odd shape, most of it is a giant hill that overlooks a lake and a wooded area. The stone arbour we’re meeting at is at the top of the hill with an amazing view of the city, and if you strain hard enough, you can make out the shimmering haze of the Border in the distance. Stirling and I stand under the arbour for protection from the rain, which is spitting.

I notice The Poisoner before she sees me. Her head is bowed, her breathing elevated as she trudges up the giant hill. A flicker of irritation passes through me, that I’m not the one making her pant. I suppress it. Stupid thought. She’s wearing jeans that hug her curvy hips and a tiny crop top. A slip of flesh showing between her belly button and waist.

I swallow.

“And you don’t like her?” Stirling says, shaking her judgmental head. “Put your cock away and stop drooling.”

I glare at her, refusing to bite. “Go do a final scout around. Make sure we’ve not been followed. Make sure there’s no one in the park.”

“Just think about it… about letting it go and being happy,” she pouts at me, but I point at the park and she leaves, stepping into the growing rain and jogging to the edge of the woods at the bottom of the hill.

She runs the periphery of the woods, a giant circle around the base of the hill. But the park is empty. It’s late, for one. Second, it’s starting to rain. And third, my senses aren’t prickling. That’s one of the first things they train you to heighten in the Assassin’s guild. I trace my fingers down the tattoo that’s now a scar. Even though I’m not connected to the Assassin’s guild building anymore, I still have my natural born magic. Sure, it’s not as powerful as it was when the guild building had collected me. But I can still tap into my training, my skills. We’re safe here tonight.

The Poisoner finally looks up, her eyes dart to Stirling running around the hill. Her cheeks are rosy, where she powered up the hill. We’ll have to train her hard the next couple of weeks before we go into the Borderlands. If we’re trekking through the city on foot, there’s no room for stragglers.

Much as I try not to let it inside, I smile at the prospect of making her sweat. But I’m not sure if it’s because I want to make her sweat in the gym or the bedroom.

I knead my temples. This is going to be hard. But I’ll be damned if I’m telling Stirling that. I’ll prove her wrong. I’ll seduce The Poisoner, find some incriminating evidence to cripple her business and then leave her heartbroken.

I’ve changed my mind. It can’t be that hard, can it?

But then she crests the hill and smiles at me, and the rest of the park disappears.

“Hi,” she says and looks up at the sky, her eyelids fluttering as droplets of rain patter against her cheeks.

“Hi.” I need to relax my jaw and stop grinding my teeth. It’s deeply unattractive. I gesture at the arbour behind me. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” she says and hustles the final few feet. She’s got to be almost a foot shorter than me. Gods, she’s going to slow us down in the Borderlands. This was a terrible idea. As if she can read my mind, she strides out in front of me, marching to the other side of the arbour.

My eyes slide down her back to her arse.

It swings from side to side. Boom, boom, boom, as her hips kick out.

No. It’s just an arse. Nothing special.

Whatever.

Stirling, thankfully, is jogging up the hill, a welcome distraction. The rain grows heavy, droplets pounding a rhythmic beat on the arbour roof.

“So,” The Poisoner says.

“So,” I say.

Stirling appears at the entryway drenched, water peeling off her in long threads of dripping splashes. Her hair sticks to her face in strings.

Stirling glances from me to Quinn, her features pinching. “Well, this is delightfully awkward. Shall we make a start?”

We move into the middle of the arbour and stand there, as awkward as Stirling said. Oh, this is ridiculous. I open my mouth to start, but The Poisoner butts in.

“We should address the fact none of us trust each other,” she says.

I press my lips shut, narrow my eyes at her. Nice point. Alright, I’ll give her that.

“I agree. Let’s lay everything out on the proverbial table. Why we’re doing this. What we want out of it,” Stirling says.

A thick silence follows. When no one offers anything, The Poisoner thrusts a hand on her hip. “Fine. I’ll start. I have a sick relative, and none of the training I’ve had as a medic is working. The only thing I can do now is try a piece of Sanatio. But I can’t do that because it’s prohibitively expensive and most of the time, you don’t even get your application authorised to buy a piece, never mind the money.”

Stirling folds her arms. “An honourable motive, for sure.”

“And you two?” The Poisoner asks.

Stirling looks at me. I take a breath. “We need to right a wrong against our family.”

“Your legacy?” she asks.

I nod.

“But your parents tried to steal the map. They were caught, were they not?”

Stirling stands straighter, the muscles in her neck stiff, her veins popping as she flexes her jaw.

“We don’t believe it’s true. They were framed,” I say.

“Then why not prove it?”

“There’s no evidence.”

“I see,” The Poisoner says.

“But that’s the reason we want to go after the map,” Stirling says. “If we can retrieve the map, we can ask for our legacy status to be reinstated, and then we’ll have access to the resources we need to prove our parents’ innocence.”

“Another honourable motive,” The Poisoner says, repeating Stirling’s comment. “We’re all in this for the right reasons. That, at least, will make it easier for us to trust each other.”

I start to pace. “How the hell are we going to pull this off? Not only will we need to infiltrate the old palace, we’ll need to get across the Borderlands city, and that’s all besides the fact we need to enter the Border undetected.”

“Well, that’s why the prize is so high,” The Poisoner says. “I can sort the way in if you guys are able to source team members. The city is about fifty miles across, it will take us two days to get to the palaces if we’re on foot. The actual city crossing itself won’t pose much of a problem. It’s the entry and the palace that will be tricky. We’re going to need ample supplies, and carrying them might slow us down.”

Stirling glances at The Poisoner. “How is it that you know so much about the Borderlands, anyway?”

Quinn takes a deep sigh. “For one, I was born and grew up in that part of the city, and two, I have relatives inside that survived The Tearing, so I try to visit when I can. Which means I’ve spent more time there than most, given I have a resident’s permit.”

Stirling and I both frown. But I open my mouth first. “A what? How did you get one of them? You had to be inside The Tearing when it happened to have one.”

The Poisoner shrugs. “I was.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I look at her anew, a wave of respect washing through me. I didn’t know that about her, but it makes sense. The toughness, the ruthlessness by which she’s encroached on my territory. I wonder if she’s sending money home. The Tearing was horrific, so the stories go. The earthquakes, the skies ruptured, winds tore through the city, buildings collapsed. Ice fell, crops died, the magic went on the fritz. And they were all trapped inside. It wasn’t until the land settled that the Border allowed people through, started swallowing passersby.

Stirling pipes up this time, “Then how are you out here living in the new city? I heard there were only a handful of people allowed out.”

Quinn looks at the ground. “There are. The Border Lord keeps most residents inside the Border. You might hate me for taking your commissions, but it’s the same talent with herbs that got me out. Plus, I pay Border taxes. I guess that helps. Or it could have been luck.” She shrugs.

I glance at Stirling, my brow furrowed. Do I believe her? Seems… I’m not sure. Suspicious. Though, if I think about it, she really is that talented. Not that I’d admit it to her. But I’ve never seen poisons like it. Once I’d gone on a job in the southern quarter of the city. A woman wanted to kill off her husband, who was a nasty piece of work. Not my normal work, but thanks to Quinn, I couldn’t afford to be picky. Anyway, I’d waited until the end of the husband’s shift. It was twilight at the steelworks and he was the last one there, locking up. I was ready to pounce, make it look like a random mugging. When fucking Quinn stabbed me in the neck with a needle. I have no idea what she injected me with, but she managed to paralyse half my body. I had to drag myself one armed, one legged out of the industrial estate. And then there was the time she blinded me for a day with some powder after we both turned up to a locker location for a job commission. I’d got there first, we fought, we fucked, and then she blinded me. Thankfully, it was only temporary. Still, I can’t deny she’s skilled.

“I don’t believe in luck,” Stirling says.

The Poisoner stands straighter. “Then I guess I’m that talented. And given the way I’ve crippled Scarlett’s business, stolen her clients and completed commissions she couldn’t, I don’t think any of us need to question that.”

Heat instantly bubbles in my chest. I need the reminder that the only thing she’s interested in is destroying me. And as for completing commissions, I couldn’t. The only reason I couldn’t complete the drowning kill was because she blew puke poison in my face and I was too busy wrenching my guts out to hold the guy’s head under the water.

She’s here to ruin me, remembering that will make it easier to gut her life when this is all over. Instead of knocking her out, which is what my Assassin instinct wants to do, I smile sweetly and say, “Well, perhaps you can teach me the tricks of your trade, then. Make it a fairer competition.”

She smiles, a thin, malicious thing.

“The only competition here is securing that piece of map before the Border Lord catches us and hangs us all. We both know I’ve already won the murder game.”

Prickles of hot, spiked rage course through my veins.

“Watch your tongue before I make you kneel and punish you.”

Stirling wipes a hand over her face. I ignore it because The Poisoner steps up to me, her mouth twitching as if she’s suppressing a laugh. She pulls my chin down to meet hers, “Calm down baby, it’s just a joke. We’ll all be winners at the end of this, remember?”

Her stare drives right through me. Into my heart, my skin, my bones, as if a piece of her buries itself in my soul.

She’s infuriating.

I hate her.

But the soft warmth of her fingers on my chin against the chill breeze whipping under the arbour is enough to calm me down.

I place my hand over hers and gently remove her fingers.

Stirling coughs. “Right, well. When you two have finished verbally fucking each other, shall we begin?”

I pull away, glaring at Stirling, who will absolutely get an elbow in her sleep for that comment tonight.

“Do you have a suggestion, sister?” I say through gritted teeth.

Stirling’s pout is all pinched and tight, like she’s also trying not to laugh. They can both go fuck themselves.

“I do. We’re going to need resources, right?” Stirling says, looking at The Poisoner, who nods.

“Yeah, even if we were super fit—”

“—I am,” I say a little too sharply. “That fit.”

“I’m sure,” The Poisoner says. “Ex-Assassin and all.”

“High Assassin.”

“Ladies. Can we stay focused?” Stirling says. “It’s a fifty mile walk. Unless we can find a transport guy with connections inside the Border, we’re on foot, anyway.”

“We need to be on foot. Smuggling us into the Border will be hard enough, let alone with vehicles,” The Poisoner says.

“Right. On foot, then. And we’ll need supplies to last two days,” I say.

Stirling paces around the edge of the arbour. “We can’t take two days’ worth of supplies. It’s too risky. We’ll need to carry four days’ worth to be on the safe side. That will impede progress. Especially the bigger the team gets.”

“How many do you think we need?” I ask.

“Five? Maybe six?” Stirling says.

The Poisoner frowns. “Why so many?”

Stirling halts her pacing and counts on her fingers. “Scarlett, as Assassin and primary protection, makes one. You,” she points at The Poisoner, “as medic with insider knowledge, is two. Me, as team Resourcer, coordinator and map reader, is three. We’ll need a transport and supplies guy to get us out. That makes four. Then we’ll need a security and rune hacker to actually help us break into the palace, which makes five…” she trails off.

“Oh, shit,” I say.

“Oh shit, what?” Quinn says. She has this little confused wrinkle between her brows and it makes her whole face crumple.

“Oh, shit, the sixth is a Collector,” I say, tearing my gaze away from her.

Stirling nods. “And the best Collector we know is my ex.”

“Ah,” The Poisoner says.

“And things didn’t exactly end well. Did they?” I throw Stirling a pointed stare.

She presses her lips shut and shakes her head. “Might be somewhat of an understatement. We umm… look, that’s old history and doesn’t matter right now. The point is, she’s the best.”

The Poisoner groans. “Right. And I’m guessing there’s no one else?”

“I mean. There is. I know some magicians, but no one like Morrigan. Last I heard, over sixty mansions have collected her,” Stirling says.

The Poisoner whistles. “That’s a lot of magic to have access to.”

“Exactly, and she has palace magic,” I add.

“As in…?” The Poisoner asks.

“As in old palace magic from the Borderlands,” Stirling answers.

“Shit.” Quinn sits down in one swift huff. “How the hell does she have palace magic?”

Stirling tilts her head. “I never actually asked. I guess why doesn’t really matter. What’s important is that she’s the best, and if we want a powerful magician as a backup, power supply or basically anything we’re not qualified for, then she’s it.”

“I guess you better put your most charming smile on and buy some flowers or whatever you do to win a girl’s heart back,” The Poisoner says.

“Flowers?” I snort. “You can tell you don’t date very often.” I cross my legs to sit with her, and Stirling follows suit.

“Says the woman who steals pretty girls’ journals?” The Poisoner bites back.

Stirling rubs her forehead, glancing at me and Quinn. “Are we going to be able to get through this without all-out war between you two?”

The pair of us glare at Stirling.

“I’m serious. We need some agreements. No fucking, no fighting. Fucking leads to fighting, fighting leads to fucking, and we don’t have time for either.” Stirling stares at us both, but neither of us responds.

“So we have a Collector. Who’s next?” The Poisoner says.

Stirling lets out a grunt of irritation.

“That leaves a transport and supplies guy,” I say and turn to Stirling. “You thinking who I’m thinking?”

She nods. “I know this guy, Jacob Jones.”

“And then you said a security and runes specialist?” Quinn asks.

“I’m guessing from the schematics the Queen gave us that the palaces are heavily guarded and, unless the Border Lord has a rune specialist in there, the security systems will be a decade old. Then again, we have no idea what upgrades he may have put in place now.”

“I might,” Quinn says. “Or at least I’ll be able to find out.”

I scowl at her. “How?”

Quinn hesitates. Something flashes through her expression, but it’s gone before I can work out what it was. “My relative works for the Border Lord.”

Stirling can’t have noticed as she rubs her hands together. “Excellent. This is all coming together nicely. And as for the security and runes specialist, I know a girl.”

“Of course you do,” I say.

She throws me a vicious side eye. “I mean… It is my literal job.”

I’m not even dignifying that with a response. “Who’s the girl?”

Quinn is shifting from foot to foot. Rubbing her hands together. What’s her problem?

“You don’t know her. But she’s good. Really, really fucking good. But she’s also constantly in demand, so it’s whether we can get her or not,” Stirling says.

“Okay then, we have a plan and the bones of a team. We’ll start recruiting tomorrow,” I say.

“The Rune specialist…” Quinn starts, and then shakes her head. “Never mind. It can’t be. I heard they weren’t in business anymore. Let’s meet mid-morning outside my shop? I have to open up for my assistant anyway,” Quinn says.

I scan her face, trying to work out what the issue is. I hold my hand out, and Quinn slides hers in to shake on it. Where her skin meets mine, I swear heat pulses into electricity. Stirling places her hand on top of our clasped ones, and we shake. And as we do, I catch that familiar unreadable expression flicker through The Poisoner’s face, and I wonder exactly what it is she’s hiding.

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