The day of Seven’s exile came like a quiet whisper. There was little fanfare, nor was there any change in how the majority of the city saw her. As far as Seven understood it, she’d been given a few days to get her affairs in order, and then any sight of her in the city would be treated harshly.

  She knew she couldn’t afford that. She’d been lucky to escape the worst, and her father, when pressed, hadn’t admitted to tampering with the results. Whatever had happened, she was fairly certain he hadn’t planned for the tie-breaking roll. And she thanked whatever vestiges of luck she had left that she’d rolled well for once.

  Perhaps some news had trickled down to the masses—that princess Seventra had been spared from execution—but it had little effect on the city itself. People still avoided her, giving her a wide berth, or a sneering look of disgust. Many ignored her entirely, even with Juno in tow.

  The focus, in fact, wasn’t on Seven at all, but on the fading power of the dice in Veilhome.

  “Half my stock gone, all made duds,” one shopkeeper was saying. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”

  “The blight took some of my best ones just last night,” another said. “The king just doesn’t know how bad it’s gotten.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to know—maybe his whole rotten family’s in on it. I heard they’re sending the youngest out of the Veil entirely. Will do us good to get rid of some of that cursed luck.”

  Seven ducked her head and followed Juno into another series of stalls and shops, then pulled her hood over her head for good measure. Juno had agreed to go with her to buy supplies, but it was a sorry excuse, really; she could find better supplies at the palace, but she’d wanted Juno’s steady presence beside her—and to see him in private one last time before heading out.

  “You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself when you’re leaving today?” he asked quietly, notebook still in hand. His eyes were currently drawn to a shop with the latest drafting pencils, and she practically had to tear him away from the shop window.

  “I’ve had the gloves on all day,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I tried to tell father—I think something else is going on.”

  “But what else?” Juno asked, falling into stride beside her. “Dice don’t just turn into duds.”

  “No,” she agreed grimly. “But maybe my issue set off some sort of chain reaction. Maybe it spreads to other dice. Like a blight—a disease.”

  “We would have noticed something like that every time you got into the vaults.”

  “Maybe,” she replied, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. The trial and her father’s announcement the day before had sent her reeling, and he’d wasted no time in setting up a date for her departure. The rush to get rid of her alone had been another stinging blow, but as the hours had passed and Seven had had time to process everything, she couldn’t help but wonder if her father was right to get rid of her.

  Yes, there was potential execution to think about—a horrible fate she’d barely dodged. But more than that, she realized that Veilhome was, quite frankly, no longer her home. She’d spent hours crawling its whitewashed streets, exploring its fountains, its verandas, its gardens. Every stone beneath her feet felt like home. Every forest-kissed breeze, every palace garden and back alley felt like hers.

  But its people were no longer hers. She’d made excuses for their distance for quite some time, but she’d never rule Veilhome. She’d never even occupy a position that mattered in Veilhome. And, while Seven had figured that owning a dice might change everything, she realized now that it would do her little good. She was too young, her past too checkered, and while she’d hoped to plant her roots here and at least do some good, it was clear that Veilhome’s people had long moved on from her.

  And besides that, the restless state of the capitol gave her further pause. If she’d caused this strange blight by searching for the right dice, then she might be putting her entire family in danger. Maybe her father had few qualms about putting her in danger, but she did worry about her family’s safety. If the dice kept failing at a high rate, then her entire family’s rule would be undermined, and their kingdom threatened. If she could stem the tide even a little by leaving, she might be doing the best thing for her family and her home.

  And besides—she had business outside of Veilhome.

  “Where are we going?” Juno asked as they cut down another hilly street, this one packed with people—not the kind that occupied the palace plazas, but normal working folk, many looking for jobs.

  “To find information on Rook’s new enterprise,” she replied, slipping past a few more shops.

  “His enterprise?”

  “A dice mine,” she explained. “Moore mentioned it when we last spoke, but he didn’t seem keen to let me have more information about it.”

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  Juno frowned at that. “Why do you need more information, Seven? Surely you’re not trying to—”

  “I need something to do with my exile, don’t I?”

  “Maybe, but—”

  The words died on his lips as Seven approached a shop that stuck out like a sore thumb from its fellows. Lucky Mining Corporation’s recruitment office squatted between a respectable tailor and a quiet bookshop a bit like an instrument playing out of tune with the rest of the orchestra. The front was painted a mixture of a sort of lime green and orange, which Seven was pretty sure violated some sort of signage law in Veilhome, and the front door was a hot pink that clashed violently with the rest of the colors.

  A massive dice-powered neon sign blinked faintly in the sunlight, announcing, “LMC—NOW HIRING!” It flickered erratically, buzzing faintly as the dice tried to keep the lights going. The colors of the shop, if they could be called that, were practically pasted over at every available opportunity by signs promising instant employment, and no experience necessary. Another nearby sign offered 'free pancakes' with some nearly illegible text lining the bottom and written in legalese.

  Seven stooped to collect a discarded flyer from the ground, smoothing its wrinkled surface to read the text printed in a garish font:

  LUCKY MINING CORPORATION

  Your luck is our profit! LMC is looking for new dice mining personnel. Join our family today! Food, shelter, and dice guaranteed. No experience necessary, no questions asked, payment as promised. Scarred or scared, we welcome all at LMC! Free pancakes!

  “You’re kidding,” Juno said, looking at the flyer, then the building like it was about to eat his lunch.

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, staring at the mess. Next to her, Juno flinched like he’d been hit.

  “What do you mean, it’s perfect?” he snapped. “Are we looking at the same building? It looks like whoever runs it was just let out of the insane…oh.”

  “Exactly,” Seven said, smiling. She lowered her voice, then added, “How can he be clean, Juno? How can anyone who fronts a business like this have the sparkling record he has? ‘No questions asked’? He obviously has something to hide.”

  Juno looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t correct her. “But Moore told you to stay away, didn’t he?”

  She waved dismissively at her brother. “I have to do something while I’m in exile, and what better way to spend my time than by getting knee-deep in shit?”

  Juno winced. “I don’t think that’s what you should be spending your time doing, but—”

  “And besides, if I come back with evidence that Rook is crooked beyond all belief, they’ll lift my charges entirely. No brand, no history of cheating, and most importantly, no exile. I’ll be able to come home without a mark on my name.”

  “Still…” Juno trailed off, unconvinced. “I mean, look at it, Seven. Are those the type of people you want to work for? Have you ever even worked in your life?”

  “I’m sure it’s not that hard,” she insisted. “And anyway, I’m only here for one thing today—a map.”

  She traipsed over to a rotted-out display case, barely sheltered from the elements and obviously painted over several times in varying bright shades of colors. Several more pamphlets stuck out of the display, wrinkled and warped from moisture. Seven plucked one of those from the display and scanned it.

  It was a map of the kingdom—her kingdom, to be exact. While other royal families controlled the Spokes of the Wheel, her family oversaw it all. Perhaps Rook thought she was no better than an afterthought, but in the right circumstances, she could have been his ruler.

  The circular patch of land in the middle of the map—Veil—was just a blip on the larger map. The area in question here was to the southwest—an area of land so far out on the Spokes that it might as well have been the deadlands. The marked area was nestled in the mountains, an area known for its glut of dice shards. Lucking Mining Corporation main campus, it read. There were other dots throughout the southwest quadrant of the map, but she didn’t want the smaller mines; instead, Seven wanted the biggest one she could find. One that might hide all of Rook’s best secrets, and his guilt, to boot.

  She clutched the page in shaking hands for a moment, the market going quiet around her. Laughter bubbled up on her lips. LMC. It might as well have stood for Last, Most desperate Chance—though the acronym didn’t exactly roll off the tongue. It was obviously the kind of work that asked no questions because it didn’t want any answers. The kind that paid well because people probably didn’t live to spend their wages.

  Even the dice shard mines in the center of the Wheel were trouble; poorly regulated, her father had tried and failed to deal with them in the past. There was just too much money involved in the things for him to make any headway. House Veil could crush them every time they popped up, but they were so lucrative that it was impossible to quash them all. Rook’s little recruitment stand in the middle of Veilhome was testament to that. Her father could try, of course, to regulate them in some way, but that was one of many problems in the kingdom, and nearly at the bottom of her father’s list with the recent dice blight.

  Perhaps Seven couldn’t make any headway here in Veilhome, but she could make her mark elsewhere. And, with the seedy nature of the dice shard farms in the rest of the Wheel, it seemed impossible that Rook wouldn’t be hiding something good in LMC—something that might damn him and save Seven.

  “Aren’t you worried about being recognized?” Juno asked as they walked away from the stand. He glanced at her, at her dark blonde locks with a touch of red, at her distinctive turquoise eyes, so much like his own, and shook his head. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

  “I blend in well enough when I want to,” Seven replied. That much was true—she’d been able to go mostly undetected in Veilhome itself; she was usually recognized with time, but that was in the capital city. “With that much distance between me and the capital, no one will know who I am.”

  “Seven, this sounds like another one of those gambles you’re always telling me about,” Juno said. “Wasn’t it you who said you shouldn’t play against a rigged house?”

  “It was also me who said you can’t win if you don’t play.”

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