This was the last night they had before they headed into battle and she’d wanted them to spend it together, like old times.

The air was balmy but there were rare moments when the wind picked up speed and ruffled the playing cards like feathers, like the night was breathing out a sigh of relief that it didn’t have to be alone. The darkness had Tavia and Wesley for company.

When Tavia won a hand, the wind clicked the nearby tree branches together in a steady clap.

When Wesley won, the trees themselves swayed so rhythmically that they created a low whistle, the leaves stirring in a rustled cheer.

Tavia didn’t think it was fair for plants to play favorites, especially when Wesley was so clearly a cheat, but apparently the trees liked it most when he played dirty.

“Want another game, or are you tired of losing already?” Wesley asked.

Tavia shot him a rude gesture. “It’s three all,” she said. “That’s not losing, that’s a draw.”

Wesley shrugged. “Whatever helps to stroke your ego.”

Tavia glared at him and snatched the deck back. “I’ll shuffle. That way you can’t palm the cards or fix your hand.”

“So little trust in me.”

Wesley put a hand to his chest, like he was entirely offended.

“Never trust an underboss,” Tavia said, dealing him his hand. “The only thing they’re good for is screwing people over.”

Wesley nodded, like she had a point. “That’s me,” he said.

The air shifted swiftly with his breath.

“Born a bastard. Destined to be a crook.”

Tavia paused mid-deal.

She hated the way his voice changed so abruptly when he said that. She’d only meant it to be a joke, but the resigned smile Wesley gave, casual and accepting, like that was his past and his future and he had no escape, made her want to scream.

It was she who had no choice.

Karam had seen it. Arjun had seen it.

Tavia was going to die by the end of this war, and if that happened, she didn’t want Wesley to spend the rest of his life feeling sorry for himself.

“Don’t talk shit,” Tavia said, laying the final card on the table.

Wesley quirked a brow. The moon pounded down, reflecting the unwavering black in his eyes that Tavia still couldn’t get used to.

“Don’t look so serious,” he said.

“Don’t be such an idiot, then,” Tavia countered. “None of us were born crooks. Ashwood made bastards out of us all.”

“Yet you turned out okay,” Wesley said.

Tavia nearly laughed.

“I’m not okay.”

She didn’t realize how true those words were until she said them.