Exile, Seven found, took far longer than expected. She barely saw sunlight for a week, as they trundled in a roaring wagon through the city, then the countryside, only stopping for a brief stay at an inn—though just as many nights, they gathered the wagons in a circle and sat in chains, eating stale bread.

  She wasn’t sure what the point of the chains were, particularly when she’d wandered the city with her brother just hours before leaving. Perhaps it was mostly to create the illusion of the disgraced princess being tossed out on her ass. Regardless, Seven didn’t care. It was just one more humiliation. One more way in which her family had failed her. And, perhaps she should have been more upset about it, but with plans of clearing her name buzzing pleasantly in her head, she couldn’t find it in her to care about her father’s last slight.

  She didn’t know who the others in the caravan were—prisoners, perhaps, or maybe others doomed to exile as she was. She barely looked at them, and while some of them did a double-take in shock when they recognized her, few said anything to her either.

  Eventually, as they left Veilhome and the surrounding towns behind, and there were fewer inns each night, the prisoners and their guards slowly trickled down until only Seven was remaining. She felt, as each man left, that she’d failed them somehow. She was supposed to be their princess, wasn’t she? And yet all they had left was a failure of a woman—a girl who’d gambled and lost everything. And now, a woman who barely belonged to them at all.

  I’ll clear my name and come back for them all, she thought. I’ll find a way to fix things.

  As each inn light faded behind her, and each caravan turned off to dump their prisoners elsewhere, Seven felt like each was a book she’d failed to read the end of.

  Eventually, when the terrain became too rocky for the wagon, the remaining guards forced her onto a horse to continue the arduous trek up the mountainside. She barely knew where they were anymore, but she was grateful—and desperate—to get out of that dark wagon. Anything to see the world again, no matter how desolate it might seem.

  And yet the trek gave her plenty of time to think. About her future. About Rook’s cold eyes staring at her from across the board. About what her family might do without her.

  But, as they arrived in a tiny mountain town and the guards slid the shackles from her arms, then abandoned her entirely, she knew one thing with complete clarity.

  She would find Rook, clear her name, and make him pay for everything he’d done to her.

  She rented the first horse she could find with her limited funds and rode for all she was worth towards the southwest—and Lucky Mining Corporation.

  ***

  Winter had come early in the outskirts of the kingdom, and Seven shivered as she wandered the streets, her legs still stiff and sore from riding. She’d been given a small bag of chips—hardly enough to live off of, but enough to get a room for the night, at least. Beyond that, she had few plans besides getting out of the freezing cold and double-checking where in luck’s name she was.

  She was fairly certain she had to be close to LMC—she’d made sure to ride in the right direction, at least—but it was impossible to navigate perfectly with few references to her position. The area was a tangle of fields and forests, the mountains looming in the distance. Judging from her map, LMC was tucked somewhere inside those mountains, but she had at least another several hours of riding left to find out.

  It was hard not to feel exposed, though plenty of people were out and about shopping or trading. She expected heads to turn, or gazes to linger, but no one seemed to notice her beyond casting looks of suspicion her way. Seven watched each gaze as they passed, searching for recognition or shock, but few registered her presence at all—besides the predatory looks from a few rough-looking men directed in all the wrong places.

  Her steps stuttered to a stop in the street at the realization.

  No one knows who I am, she realized, shocked. How far was she from the capital that no one knew the faces of royalty, the looks of House Veil? Perhaps she’d never inherit anything from her family, but she’d still been paraded about like a doll for most of her childhood. People in Veilhome and the surrounding territories might not like her, but they knew her.

  Here, though. Here she was just…normal.

  The very idea warmed her belly. If she was unrecognizable, then she could make easy work of the gaming houses in the city. If she was unrecognizable, she could get her hands on a dice without being the first suspect. She could—

  A man brushed against her roughly, nearly knocking her to the ground. His hand went for her waist, where her chip bag sat, but Seven darted away, swearing. From then on she kept a close hand on her remaining funds.

  And yet, her eyes wandered down the streets. Not to the inn, looking cheery and warm as snow gently fell. Not to the bathhouse, steam coming out of the top of it.

  But to the gambling hall.

  That familiar itch tickled the back of her mind, demanding her attention. She tried to push it away, to tell it that if she lost these funds, she’d have nothing left. She’d be reduced to begging—or worse.

  But if she could win big at the gambling house, she’d have no need to worry about the future—at least for a few weeks. A night of good luck could turn a night’s meal into a whole week of them. And, judging from the desperate looks of some of the men and women entering the hall, she was pretty sure she could make quick work of the lot of them.

  ***

  Seven sat down at the first dice poker table she could find. The dice were magicked to the table—that was good, at least. The last thing she needed was some actual swindler ‘adjusting’ the dice behind his fold.

  She barely glanced at the men at the table—many old enough to be her father—as the dealer rolled his own dice and set out the first hand. Seven rolled her own dice, marveling as they glowed faintly in the low light of the parlor. She set aside a couple to form a winning hand, and those faded to a gently pulsing red, locking in place against the table. The remaining dice—those she still had a chance to roll—pulsed brightly in her vision. Seven kept her face carefully straight as she played, the probabilities buzzing pleasantly in her head.

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  Each hand carried on much the same way it would have in the capital; many at the table bluffed, plenty folded, and the cycle repeated. What was different was the level of gameplay. Seven was used to master gamblers, even at casual games played with Lan and Vork. She was used to people who could mostly hide their tells, or at least make a good effort of it. She was used to the psychological game of bluffing her way through a bad hand. And, most importantly, she was used to being taken very, very seriously.

  Here, she was not.

  The men laughed at her as the first few hands went by. She leaned into it, pretending to be a beginner. By the end of the night, the men’s expressions had soured, and Seven leaned back, admiring her pile of chips. She’d been lucky, of course—she always was—but most of those chips had been gotten with plain skill. These men clearly had no idea who they were dealing with.

  Smiling, she swept the lot off the table into her coin purse, and left the table behind, practically floating with glee. She had enough to last her for a month, at least. In one easy night of play. Maybe I can make this work, she thought, hope blossoming in her chest. Maybe I can carve out a living somehow.

  Of course, Lucky Mining Corp still weighed heavily on her mind along with Rook’s betrayal, but out here, she might be able to fund her own investigation with the kind of money she’d pulled in tonight.

  The sting of her exile was still fresh in her mind—as was the soreness from weeks of travel—but Seven almost believed, as she walked towards the bathhouse and inn and bought the most expensive packages, that she might be able to have a future after all.

  ***

  Voices woke Seven from a sound sleep. Voices, and the feel of a man’s fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist.

  “I told you she was a cheat.”

  Seven’s eyes fluttered open to the sight of a man standing in front of her, brandishing her hand like it was a piece of evidence. Her hand was bare, her scars visible as the man dangled the hand in her air for his fellows to see.

  “Just ‘cus she cheated once doesn’t mean she robbed us tonight,” another man cut in. He stood near the doorway, looking uncomfortable if Seven had to guess. Finally, the man holding her wrist noticed that she was awake.

  Well, shit.

  “Well well well, the cheat decides to wake up.” He dragged her from the bed and pressed her against the wall, his eyes glittering in the darkness.

  “Some of us have brands too,” the man behind him added. “She could be the same. Dealt a bad hand.”

  “I was dealt a bad hand,” the man snapped, his grip tightening on Seven’s shirt. Her feet left the ground, and while she scrambled for some type of purchase, the man was easily twice her size—and pissed to boot. “And anyway, mysterious girl shows up in town one day, dropped off by the capital’s slavers. It’s no coincidence.” He smiled at her sweetly, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “What’s your secret, girl? Sent by your master to clean us out at the border towns?”

  He didn’t recognize her, then. She met the other man’s eyes, trying to plead from across the room, but what she’d mistaken for pity or doubt seemed to just be boredom. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away from her.

  “I don’t have a secret,” she ground out. “What do you want? Money? I won it fair and square, but whatever gets your sorry ass out of my inn room.”

  The man whistled. “Girl has a mouth on her,” he said, then smiled. “Wonder if it works elsewhere.” Seven’s blood ran cold as he turned to his friend. “Lock the door. You can have your turn next.”

  Shit. Shit shit shit.

  Seven squirmed, trying to dislodge herself from the man’s iron grip, but the little combat training she’d had as a small girl simply evaporated from her mind. She’d never trained for this. For life or death. Luck above, she’d hardly been touched back in Veilhome.

  She tried to pry his fingers from her shirt as they wandered closer to her chest. “Listen,” she said, her breath short, her words fast and desperate. “I can get you whatever you want. You can have your chips back—and more.”

  The man smiled at her coldly. “And I think you’re lying,” he said. “If you had so much to offer, why would you gamble it with the lot of us?”

  Seven was certainly wishing she hadn’t gambled with them at all. How had they gotten into her room? How had they known where she was staying?

  Her heartbeat raced so fast she thought her heart might burst from her chest, and Seven weighed her options. She certainly wasn’t going to sit here while these men had their way with her, and bribery wasn’t working. But she had nothing to fight with. No dice. No magic. Nothing.

  Well, she’d have to deal with the hand she’d been given. Seven pulled back her toes and slammed them into the man’s groin.

  She expected a reaction. What she got instead was the confusing sight of the man flying back from her with such force that he hit the wall across the room with a crack, nearly leaving a hole in the wall. He tumbled to the ground with a wheezing gasp of pain, then slumped over, lying still.

  For a moment, Seven simply stood there, stunned and feeling strangely lightheaded. There’s no way I did that, she thought, her heart thudding faintly in her ears. And yet, the man was lying in splinters in the wall, all the evidence she needed of the force of her kick. Slowly, she regained her wits and gathered her lute and gloves, then scrambled towards the window.

  The other man was quicker. A dice clicked nearby, and pain lanced into her side. Her bag of chips tucked beneath her shirt spilled out onto the floor, but Seven ignored them, racing for the window. She had to get out. Had to survive. Anything to get away from these men.

  She was inches from the window when a strong hand grabbed her and slammed her to the ground so hard she saw stars. Now breathless, Seven tugged at that hand, and sent the other man flying. Her chest heaving, Seven struggled to her elbows just in time to see the smaller man slam into the door and out into the hallway.

  Momentarily stunned, she stuffed most of the chips into a pillowcase, then limped towards the window, wincing at the way the room tilted on one axis. She opened the window, desperate to get away from the men, but hesitated there, watching for them.

  Neither man moved, though both were still breathing, their chests rising and falling. Dimly, distantly, she heard the commotion of someone downstairs, but she couldn’t tell if it was more men waiting to rob her blind, or the inn staff, investigating the source of the noise. Still, she didn’t want to be caught with this mess. How would she explain any of it? She had no dice on her, and her brand would mark her as a cheat. The inn staff would demand answers, then payment—and in spite of the good night she’d had, she didn’t know if it was that good.

  Still, she hesitated as she straddled the window, then jogged back over to the men, cutting both of their dice pouches with a knife. That alone would net her plenty of time in the local jails, but she didn’t intend to be around long enough to find out how much.

  Now far too laden with lute and loot, Seven darted towards the window, the voices growing closer. She glanced over the edge, and winced.

  It was a two-story drop. Would whatever power had saved her from the men save her from the drop? There was no way of knowing. But, as the voices grew closer and the men’s dice bags weighed heavy as she tied them around her lute strap, she figured she’d take the bet.

  Seven launched herself out of the room, flying through the window, and landed in a nearby bush, her ankle twisting with the impact. So much for that, she thought, trying her weight on her ankle. Pain lanced through it, but it held. Swearing, she pulled herself from the mess, pieces of wood biting into her arms and legs, and spotted the stables straight ahead.

  Wincing at the international incident she would have caused had anyone known who she was, Seven untethered a horse and rode towards the mountains for all she was worth.

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