A Game of Hearts and Heists: A Steamy Lesbian Fantasy Romance (Girl Games Book 1)
A Game of Hearts and Heists: Chapter 30

I stand and watch Quinn, my heart shattering. She never turns to look at me, never speaks, never acknowledges my presence. It’s as though I’ve vanished out of existence.

Of all the things we’ve done to each other. All the times she’s poisoned me, I’ve stabbed her, tied her up, the injuries and paralysis she’s given me. This… this hurts more than all of them. I’d take a knife to the gut over this. How did we get to this place?

Her dark curls bounce around her head as she potters around her brother, crushing herbs and mixing ingredients. Her hands work in a rhythm of mixing, crushing, selecting. Years of experience and expertise enabling automatic movements. She mops his brows, tips potions down his throat, checks his pulse. Over and over. And never once does she turn around. I lose track of time, but eventually a hand finds my arm and pulls me away.

“Did you know?” I ask Remy.

She wrings her hands, her shoulders sagging. “She asked me not to tell you. I’m sorry.”

I should rip a rib out and cut her throat with it. But I don’t. I don’t do anything. I follow Remy in silence, wondering how the hell everything went so wrong. We find Morrigan outside the observatory.

“I sealed each map piece in a separate bag and placed them in two different rucksacks. The Border Lord’s soldiers have taken his body. I don’t think there was a second in command. None of them know what to do.”

“It’s not our problem,” I say.

“Everything okay?” Morrigan says.

“Not even close to okay. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Remy says.

Morrigan hands me a ring. The Border Lord’s ring, gold signet with a ruby. I ball my fist around it.

“Thank you,” I say to her. “I’d usually take his head and give it to the queen, but given our revelations this afternoon…”

“I figured as much,” Morrigan says. “Is Quinn—”

“Staying put.”

“I see.”

We leave the palace via the rear exit and through the gardens in the open air. There are soldiers running scattered like ants in every direction. Somewhere in the distance a siren rings. But no one stops us, no one pays us any attention.

“Scarlett? Can you hear me?” Stirling says in my ear.

I press my finger to my ear to make her voice clearer. Remy and Morrigan follow suit as we make our way through the gardens.

“Loud and clear,” I say.

“You need to get to the derelict station. Do you remember on the map there was a disused station to the right of the second palace?”

“I do,” Morrigan says and heads off in another direction.

“Get to the station. You’ll see us.”

Morrigan is way ahead of us by the time Remy and I set off after her. If I strain, I can make out the overhead lines. The further I get away from the palace, the further I want to be. I need to get home and wash this place off my skin.

We enter the station. The station door hangs off the hinges, the roof is caved in, and as for the train tracks… Gods… broken sleepers and fissures crack the metal rails. There’s a train parked on the rails, but it doesn’t seem any more usable than the station. Half of the windows are smashed. There’s silvery graffiti smeared down the outside of the carriage that looks like some kind of magic residue. The roof tiles are peeling off, and there’s a hole in one of the carriage walls.

“What exactly are we doing here?” I say as Stirling pops her head out of the train.

“Funny story that,” she grins. “On board chaps. Your carriage awaits…”

Remy and Morrigan glance at each other. “Is that a joke?” Remy says to me.

“I highly doubt it,” I mumble.

The pair of them scramble up the half broken stairs and climb on board.

“Are you going to explain what the hell we’re doing in this death trap?” I say, taking my sister’s hand and climbing aboard.

“Wait, where’s Quinn?” she says.

Remy and Morrigan wince at the sound of Quinn’s name.

“She’s… she’s not coming. Let’s just get home.”

Jacob appears out of the engine cabin wearing a weird cap, a little lock of blonde poking out. I open my mouth to ask and decide better of it.

“Ready, ladies?” His eyes darken, his skin shimmers, and then his hands grip the train walls and the floor rumbles.

The train juts forward, and I shunt in my seat and almost slip off the edge. The carriage judders, shaking from side to side, but we stay put.

“I thought you could drive anything, Jacob?” I raise an eyebrow at him and grip hold of the seat.

“I’d like to see you magnetise a seven thousand ton train on rails that are barely functional and drive it out of here with no practice.”

I shut my mouth.

The carriage continues to shudder and jostle until Jacob releases one hand and flips it over and twists two of his fingers. The carriage jerks forward in a violent motion, but it’s released, and finally Jacob finds his rhythm. His shoulders relax, the tension in his fingers calms, and he moves into the main engine cabin. Freezing air whips in through the holes in the train walls.

Stirling joins me after a while and throws an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into the crook of her arm. I slide my head onto her shoulder and she rubs my arm.

“Remy told me everything. It’s alright,” she says and strokes my head. “It’s going to be okay.”

“She’s his daughter,” I sniffle out.

“I know.”

“She killed him.”

“I know. Hey, Scarlett…?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”

“Okay.” I slide down Stirling’s chest and lay on her lap. She strokes my hair until the rocking of the train lulls me to sleep.

When we get home, the house is quiet, bare, and as hollow as my heart. We’ve spent days with a group of people and suddenly it’s just the two of us. Remy, Morrigan and Jacob returned to their respective homes to rest, wash, and sleep off the mission.

I tiptoe around the rooms, wandering from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom. Everything feeling wrong. Empty, save for the boxes piled high. The couple of days away stretched into an eon of time. I’d almost forgotten we have to find somewhere else to live. Stirling glances at me, the same worry lines etching wrinkles into the corners of her eyes as mine.

We should have sorted this before we left.

I traipse from room to room. Everything is too silent. No Quinn to irritate me.

Stirling appears at the living room doorway. The only thing left in here are the sofas and a bedraggled-looking plant.

“You can’t give up on her.”

I stop pacing the living room. “She lied to me. To all of us.”

Stirling sits on the sofa, hitches her knees under her chin and rests her head on them.

“And if you’d been in her position? If you knew someone was going after our parents…? Because when you think about it… everything we did w—”

“Yes, alright, I see your point. Either way, she won’t forgive me for what I did to her brother.”

“Sure she will.”

I plonk down next to her. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because her brother wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“She doesn’t see it that way. She thinks I ruined his life.” I pick at the threads of my sleeve.

Stirling shakes her head. “Scarlett, I adore you. But get a fucking grip. When have you ever quit? You don’t lose. We—the Grey twins—do not lose. It’s time to stop wallowing, suck your shit up, get in the shower and clean your frankly revoltingly smelly body, and win your girl back because I’m not a fan of this.” She wafts a finger at me. “This Scarlett, she’s tiresome.”

I glare at her, but she wallops me in the arm. “What are you waiting for? Shower. Now. Heathen.”

“Fine,” I moan.

I spend so long in the shower that the water runs cold. I sit under the head, letting the water wash the dirt and grime and emotions off me. The whole time, it’s Quinn in the fore of my mind. Images of her working on her brother, behaving like I don’t exist, play and replay over and over.

I drag myself out of the shower and dress in my favourite suit, wearing the lacy bra I wore the night we spent in the Velvet Mansion. Images of her body melting under my hands flash through my mind. All of it aches.

I should have stayed. I should have made her listen to reason.

Three hours later, Stirling and I assemble outside the palace gates. Both pieces of map are tucked away safely, one in each jacket pocket. We enter the palace, white invite in hand. We’re meeting the others tomorrow to give them their rewards. But Quinn should be with us. It seems like a lifetime ago we were handed the invites by that pompous butler, and yet, it was only a month ago.

The palace is decorated in sweeping ribbons, chandeliers sparkle like stars, and enclosed fire embers hover along the halls. Giant bouquets of flowers line the corridors and stand tall in the ballroom. Soft stringed music plays from a small stage on the right.

There are magicians dressed in fine robes, glittering ballgowns and fine suits.

I spot the Queen. She’s at the back of the room wearing a red corset, her voluptuous bosoms billowing out the top. Her waist is tight, and the skirt fans out around her, a delicious slit up to her hip. She looks… familiar. Though I can’t think why. She’s the Queen, of course she’s familiar. Everyone in New Imperium knows her face.

Stirling’s eyes follow the Queen as she moves across the ballroom.

“Umm,” Stirling says. “Did we know she was that hot?”

I laugh. “I’m not sure I noticed. But, she is smoking this evening. I’d maybe not try your luck, though. There are always the princesses you could date.”

Stirling glares at me. “I mean, I am charming. But chance would be a fine thing. Even in my network, no one knows who they are. Anyway, go give the Queen the fucking map and get us our victory. I’m suddenly bored with this party.”

“That’s because there’s no pussy for you to hunt.”

“Just go find the fucking Queen.”

She gives me the middle finger, and I laugh for the first time since leaving the Borderlands.

I reach the throne and kneel, bowing my head in deference.

“Approach,” the Queen says.

“Your majesty,” I say.

“Do you have it?”

“I believe you may prefer a more private location for our discussion.”

A thin smile curls in the corner of her mouth. Perhaps Malachi told her about the maps?

“To the battle room then,” she says. I gesture for Stirling to follow, and she meets us at the exit. We move down the same corridors we walked down four weeks ago, right into the centre of the palace.

My heart thuds in my chest as we pass down a corridor with long windows looking out onto the Sanatio’s courtyard, the flowers lush and bulging. A hint of mint and lilac in the air. My chest squeezes. Would the Sanatio cure what I did to Malachi? We enter the battle room and the Queen takes a seat. She gestures to two chairs.

“You have the map?”

I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a piece of map. “I do. But here’s the interesting thing, your majesty. When we arrived at the old palace to retrieve the piece of map, we encountered something unexpected.”

“Unexpected how?” she says and waves her butler to bring drinks. The butler dishes them out, and she raises her glass to us.

I lean back in my chair. “The map piece you hold, the one you brought into the battle room when you commissioned us…”

She leans forward, her eyes darkening. She really knew. It was a test all along.

“It’s a fake.”

“Oh, and why do you think that?”

“Because we retrieved both pieces.” I reach into my other pocket and take out the other half of the map.

She kicks back, laughing and clapping.

“Oh, bravo, bravo ladies. This truly is more than I could have hoped for. You’ve impressed me. Really, truly impressed me.”

Her eyes glimmer as she looks at both pieces of the map. She examines the maps, searching for authenticity, I suspect.

Her head snaps up.

“You’ve done very well, indeed.”

“Were you always aware?” I say.

She pauses, her face softening. “No. When the first map was stolen, I really thought the one I was left with was authentic. It’s only when Malachi sent me a spell-worked journal that he told me to have the map authenticated. I resisted for a while, but eventually, that’s how I discovered I was in possession of a fake. If I’d known… I assure you, I would never have ordered your parent’s execution.”

“It’s why you invited us to the challenge?” Stirling says.

“I didn’t think an apology would suffice. Not after all these years. Not after what I put you through. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but I do hope I can make up for the damage I’ve done.”

The Queen takes a sip of her champagne.

“He’s dead,” I say.

She sputters the gulp she just took. “I beg your pardon?”

“The Border Lord. Quinn, she… she was his daughter. We didn’t know. But when she found out some truths about him, she took him out herself.”

“High Magician,” she says, gasping. She holds her hand to her chest, stands and paces around the room.

“Truly, this is most unexpected. I knew who Quinn was, of course. Malachi informed me. But I had no idea she would go so far when she learnt of his treachery. You have all excelled beyond my wildest dreams. With the Border Lord gone, we can heal the land and reunite the city. This is the start of a magnificent new era, ladies. I am incredibly proud of you.”

Except, that’s not at all how I feel. There’s a cavernous hole inside me, gaping and vast. It’s making my bones ache and my soul weary, and there’s only one person who can fill it.

This is the moment I’ve waited for. I’ve spent half a decade hungering after the Queen’s apology. Her recognition that she was wrong, that the Border Lord had set up my parents. And now I’ve got it, it feels empty.

The person I want to celebrate winning with isn’t here. And I’m not sure there’s anyway to get her back.

“Let us discuss your reward. Your royal favour. What shall it be? Reinstating titles? Money? Something else?”

My eyes widen. I know what I can do. How I can win her back. I realise winning is meaningless without her. Fuck the titles. Fuck the money. None of it matters unless she is with me. Because she is my win.

Stirling opens her mouth, and I place my hand on top of hers, silencing her. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“Oh, fuck,” she says under her breath.

“Your majesty, I’d planned to ask for the reinstatement of our titles and lands so that we could pay our team out of our inheritance. But I’ve realised that without Quinn here, none of it really matters. What matters is loyalty. Loyalty and love.”

The Queen nods.

“I’d ask for a piece of Sanatio.”

The Queen frowns. “You’re sure.”

“Scarlett…” Stirling says.

“I’ll find a way to pay for their time, I swear it. I have to do this. We started with Quinn. We need to finish with her.”

I return to the Queen. “I’m sure.”

“But you’re leaving yourself in debt with your team members.”

“I am.”

“So be it.” She cocks her head at the butler and he vanishes from the room, presumably to collect a branch.

Stirling’s leg is jigging next to me. I hold her thigh, pushing it into the ground to curb the movement.

“I like you, Ms. Grey. Your honesty, your display of loyalty, and your sense of moralistic virtue. I feel a deep sense of regret over my misguided actions. Here’s my offer to you… Take your plant, but return to me, with your entire team, missing member intact, in forty-eight hours. I have a proposition for you.”

She stands. The butler returns with a large clipping of the branch and hands it to me.

And with that, the Queen leaves and we’re left wondering what the hell she wants with us.

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