Chapter 12
"Eh?"
Obi stares dumbfounded at the cards Shirayuki arranges in neat arcs on the table before her. He glances back at the mismatched assortment propped against his arm—the singles and pairs that taunt him from their resting place near the snow-stuffed water-skin that eases the ache of his hand.
Then he looks once again at her perfect little groups of threes and fours.
"Eeehh?"
"What? Another terrible hand?" Shirayuki inquires, feigning concern and concealing a smug little grin with a polite sip of tea.
The same smug little grin she's worn for the past half–hour, as she swept the floor with him. Oh, he thought he'd throw the first few rounds, go easy on her—but she knew exactly what she was doing. And while he was slowly, slowly narrowing her lead, he had not yet won a single hand.
"When did you learn to play?" he groans, adding the points to the obscene sum already in his head and handing the cards back across the table. At least this round he'd gotten a chance to ditch the highest–value cards before she won. The last few?
He shuddered.
"Kiki taught me," Shirayuki expertly shuffles the deck and deals another round. "By the way, now you owe me two fruit pies, a chocolate eclair, a bottle of wine, and dinner." She fans out her cards in her hands, tipping her head and smiling oh–so–sweetly. "And it's your turn to wager."
Obi raises an eyebrow, suspicious. Just like Kiki, Miss was ruthless when cards were involved… Maybe in this situation, it was better to play it safe and hedge his bets.
"...another pastry," he decides, reaching for the new cards.
"Are you going to keep betting pies until you actually win? Because at this rate, you're going to owe me the entire cart."
"I've already brought you an entire cart's worth, Miss. When you were writing the last report."
"And I'm looking forward to another," she grins.
"You..." That statement throws him, slows his retort a little, because who else would look forward to submitting a report? Scholarly types.
"You can't defeat me forever," is what he settles on, peering intently at his new cards, deciding which matches to pursue, which to discard.
"Oh? You're sure about that, are you?" Shirayuki draws a card from the deck, regarding it briefly before tossing it out.
"It's just the odds, Miss." Obi snatches the discarded four of stars, adding it to a pair of fours already leaning against his arm.
"Sooner or later, you'll get a bad hand and I'm going to get a good one."
"That might take a while," she thuds a finger onto the high–point card he just dropped, claiming it as her own, "seeing as I've got two and you only have the one."
Obi glances up, blinking. Then his carefully constructed poker face crumbles into a wide toothy grin. "Haha—ow, ow, I walked straight into that, didn't I?"
"Without even trying to evade," she agrees, shaking her head sadly for emphasis.
"Well aren't you—dare I say it—all over me tonight, Milady?"
"And you, Sir Knight, picked this game." Shirayuki discards. "Despite not being particularly good at it."
"No, Master's the one who isn't particularly good," Obi retorts, selecting a new card from the deck. "That's why he'll never bet money."
"You're not betting money," she observes, pointedly.
"Because you'll just take it from me!" He discards, and she grabs it. "See?" Obi jabs a finger at her, in mock betrayal. "You're already taking all my cards! I'm going to keep my coins, thank you very much!"
"To buy my prizes?" the smug little grin returns.
"I'll be single handedly supporting every pastry stall on Pavilion Street by sunrise, won't I?" He sighs, watching her slowly rearrange the cards in her hand.
"You will at this rate, so you'd better start taking this seriously."
"I'm always serious, Miss."
"About cards?"
"Well, that and...other things," he grins.
"Like fruit pies?" Shirayuki smiles.
She reveals her hand, full of more perfect little matches.
And Obi squints at the cards, groaning loudly.
Seriously.