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

The clock house gave me the creeps. I spent the entire time wanting to cling to Scarlett, praying we get out alive.

We trudge through the woods as fast as we can, which still feels glacial to me. Now we’re deep in the Never Woods, the unease that started in the house has hung a noose around my neck.

I can’t breathe.

I want us to walk through the night and get out of here. Even my father doesn’t fuck with the militia. They’re a law unto themselves and the kind of magicians who would gut their own mothers if it meant a bag of coin. Most of them were scorned by my father. It was his own fault the militia formed, to be honest. If he were a more merciful man, perhaps it wouldn’t have happened.

But most of the people in the militia either betrayed my father or he didn’t deem them worthy enough to join his soldiers. Eking out your existence, living off scraps and begging. Understandably, those banished didn’t like it much, and so the uprising began. It took two years of savage fighting and countless lives lost before they settled into an uneasy truce. The militia lived in the Never Woods and the Border Lord’s men stayed around the Old Palaces, manning the trade routes.

My mind wanders to Scarlett, the fury that burns in her veins for my father. I know she thinks he’s done wrong, and I understand why she thinks that. But sometimes people in power do bad things for the greater good, and I really do believe he was doing it for the good of the magicians abandoned inside the Border.

She has to be mistaken.

Movement through the woods is slow. Slower than I’m comfortable with. The rain pours, soaking my clothes and chilling my body until I’m certain I’ll never stop shivering.

Jacob brings up the rear, walking backwards, mostly scanning the trees, watching for movement. Remy and Morrigan are in front of him. Then me. Stirling and Scarlett leading the front. We don’t make it more than fifteen minutes before the group grinds to a sudden stop.

Scarlett signals for us to move off the path and into the forest line. The canopy above us gives us a small respite from the constant drip of rain. It patters now, the plush leaves taking the brunt of rainfall.

She points to her eyes, then points both hands in opposite directions. Then she lays her palm out flat and indicates for us to get down. Scarlett and Stirling scoot into the forest and to the other side of the path. My skin itches and crawls like we’re being watched. But I scan every direction and there’s no one there. I’m being paranoid.

Scarlett catches my eye. “Be safe,” she mouths, and then the pair of them creep up the path and disappear from view. The longer we lie here, the more the damp earth seeps into my trousers. It crawls into my bones like the dull, insistent throb of a toothache.

Scarlett and Stirling reappear, a grim expression on their faces as they kneel next to us.

“There’s people up ahead,” Scarlett whispers.

“Militia?”

Stirling shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. They’re dead. Very. Very. Dead.”

“So the militia are near?” Remy whispers.

“Given the bodies are only holding a small amount of heat, I’d say they’ve been dead a good few hours already. The militia may not be in the immediate vicinity, but I doubt they’re far away,” Scarlett says.

“We need to keep going. See how much further we can get before we’re forced to camp,” Stirling says.

We continue walking for what seems like an eon. My feet and knees throb with the hours of movement. My eyes are sore because I’ve been awake for too long, and my lower back and shoulders are blazing from the weight of carrying the bag. But despite that, despite the fact my muscles are on fire, the damp earth is still leaching into my skin and sucking at my marrow. When I think I can’t take another step, Stirling veers off the path and into the trees. The shrubs and bushes bite at my trousers, thorns stabbing and poking through the fabric. And then, as soon as we stepped off the path, we move into a small clearing.

“Nice one, Stir,” Remy says as she drops her bag in the middle of the clearing and gets to work. “Everyone in the middle while I work. Morrigan, you’re with me.”

Morrigan steps up and slips her hand into Remy’s. Stirling’s eyes slide to their clasped hands. Scarlett gives her a curt shake of the head.

“Have you collected illusion magic?” Remy asks.

“Of course,” Morrigan replies. Her husky tone drifts through the woods and, as if they sense the vibrations of her voice, the forest leaves rustle in response.

“I can lock into the field you create and then turn it into a reflection. It should render us invisible,” Morrigan says.

“Excellent. Let’s do it,” Remy says.

Morrigan’s eyes darken and then flame blue like fire and snow and oceans. Strands of her hair flicker and hover, pointed with static. Remy’s eyes shiver into grey. Her hands, one holding Morrigan and one out front, vibrate so fast they blur.

It takes seconds, but I know the minute the shield is up, the severe chill eating away any shred of warmth I had vanishes as the dome closes in around us. The noise of the forest calms until it’s a quieted muffle somewhere in the distance.

When Morrigan and Remy are done, they turn to us.

Jacob is at the edge of the barrier, his hand reaching out. “This is eerie as fuck.”

Morrigan grips his shoulder. “Don’t break the boundary. You break it and we’re sitting ducks. While we’re inside, we can’t be seen or heard by anything on the outside. But you break that dome and we’re screwed.”

Jacob inches back. “Noted.”

Morrigan sets about making a fire, flames falling from her palms. Once it’s on, I boil water. I scavenge the area and find some mint leaves to crush up and sprinkle in, making a brew. I hand cups out while Jacob takes over the fire and starts cooking dinner. When I give Scarlett her mug, her fingers press against mine.

“You sure this won’t kill me?” she says, a smirk on her lips.

“I figure if I have my journal back, I can make you a tea.”

She smiles and takes a sip of the tea. “Not bad for a medic.”

I roll my eyes at her and take the final mug for myself. The liquid slips down, warming my insides and making me yearn for home. It’s not my tea, but my mother’s. She used to make Malachi and I this sweetened mint tea in the early days after The Tearing. Before father had control of the Border, there was no order, no one farming or growing anything. Once those rations were used, everyone here starved. On those long wintry nights when father fought to gain control, mother would make us mint tea and sweeten it with flowers. Father would drink it too, when he crawled in, in the morning, broken and bruised from a night of slaughtering men, and mother and I would tend his wounds.

After we’ve eaten, we pull out our sleeping bags. I grab my journal. I sent Malachi a note last night as soon as I got in and he’s finally replied, relieved I’m okay. But he doesn’t say much else, and to be honest, given how tired I am, I’m relieved because I don’t have the energy to reply. I slide it into my pack.

Jacob and Morrigan take the first sentry duty shift, Stirling and Remy are second, and Scarlett and I last. We can’t risk all of us sleeping at once. We take two-hour shifts. The floor is hard, and no matter how many rocks and twigs I brush aside, I’m still deeply uncomfortable. But I’m also so exhausted it takes me all of about three seconds to fall fast asleep.

It feels like I’ve been asleep for as many seconds when Stirling nudges me awake.

“You’re up, kid,” she says and winks at me.

I groan and haul my frozen carcass out of the sleeping bag. Stirling doesn’t bother to unroll hers again. She slides into mine and falls instantly asleep. I glance up at Scarlett.

“We should walk the perimeter,” she says. “It will keep us warm.”

“Okay,” I say, my breath coming out in rolling white puffs.

We walk in the same giant looping circle for half an hour. But it doesn’t matter how fast we walk, my lips turn blue and my teeth chitter chatter where I can’t seem to warm up.

“Can you get that under control?” she says.

“Ah-ah-ah-parently not,” I stammer out.

She scruffs me and pulls me into her arms. “It’s almost as if you enjoy being in the arms of your enemy.”

I snuffle out a laugh and lean into her chest. How she’s warm enough for her body heat to wash over me through clothes, I don’t know. But it’s not long before the chattering stops and the tension in my body eases.

“You’re not my enemy anymore,” I say.

Because she’s not. It doesn’t feel like it. Not anymore. I know she holds a grudge over what I did to her business. But I’m sure there’s a way to work it out when we’re back.

“Perhaps once the Border Lord is dead, the world is healed, and my parents avenged, then maybe we can be something else.”

I have to physically stop myself from tensing up. How could I forget what she wants? The closer I get to Scarlett, the harder it is to remember why I’m here. That the only thing she really wants to do is kill my father. And that’s the one thing I can’t let her do.

I let go and pull away, but she tightens her grip on me, her arms suddenly iron vices. I open my mouth to speak, but she shakes her head. Her eyes skirting the dome.

She releases me and places a finger on her lips. Her whole demeanour changes. She pulls not one, but two blades out and runs to the other side of the dome and drops into a crouch.

I swallow and pull my snoody up to cover my face. If there are militia nearby, one of them could recognise me, and that’s the last thing I need.

I drop to a crouch, too. Though why, I don’t know. This dome is supposed to be invisible. But it seems like the right thing to do.

Scarlett twists to face me and points to the rest of the team sleeping.

“Wake them,” she mouths. “Keep them quiet.”

I nod and, keeping low, make my way over to the team, sliding my hand over their mouths and gently rousing them.

Using hand signals and gestures, the team is up and packed in less than two minutes. But when I’m done and everyone is awake, my blood turns to ice.

Scarlett has vanished and so has the dome.