My Sister Is The Villainess

”Are you sure?” Theodore asked.

I almost laughed at how hollow the question was. If I had been unready, or unwilling, I would have said so without a flicker of hesitation. A man who is truly afraid does not need to be asked twice.

”Yeah,” I said, and rolled my shoulder until the joint popped. ”I’m pretty sure.”

They nodded.

It was a small, collective gesture, but it carried a weight I had not expected. No one tried to dissuade me. No one offered a speech about caution. They simply accepted it, the way soldiers accept an order from someone they have decided to trust.

’That is a dangerous kind of faith,’ I thought. ’I had better not waste it.’

”I will come too,” Arthur said.

I blinked at him. ”Why?”

He scratched his cheek, genuinely perplexed by his own answer. ”I do not know. It simply feels like the right thing to do.”

”That is not a reason, Arthur.”

”It is the only one I have.”

Sera let out a short, derisive snort and leaned back against the rock, her arms folded. ”Pfft. If we go by feelings, everyone will want to tag along, and then we will have a parade marching up to Culex’s doorstep with banners. Let us settle it fairly.” She slid two fingers into her pocket. ”We toss a coin.”

A silver disc flashed in the firelight as she drew it out and balanced it on her thumb. I leaned closer. The upper face bore the stern profile of King Afley II, jaw lifted in imperious disdain. The reverse showed a squat mausoleum with a single wreath carved above the door.

’A king on one side and a tomb on the other,’ I mused. ’How profoundly encouraging.’

”Uhh.” Arthur raised a hand. ”How exactly are four people supposed to toss one coin?”

”Correct,” Lee said from the shadows, sounding faintly insulted and faintly relieved.

Though, he wont be participating as he was already wanted dead by Culex.

”A bracket,” Sera said, rolling her eyes with theatrical patience. ”First round, Mary and I. Second round, you and Theodore. Then the two winners face each other. Simple.”

”Alright,” Arthur said, and swallowed.

Mary looked at the coin, then at Sera, her expression was unreadable. I noticed her fingers tighten slightly in her lap. She wanted this. She was too reserved to say it, but the want was there, quiet and obstinate as a stone.

”Call it,” Sera said, and flicked her thumb.

The coin spun upward, a tiny silver star turning end over end, catching the firelight in glimmering flashes. Every eye in the camp followed it. It reached its apex, hovered for an infinitesimal heartbeat, and fell.

Sera snatched it from the air and slapped it onto the back of her hand.

”Mausoleum,” Mary said softly.

Sera lifted her palm. A small, carved tomb stared up at us.

”Hm.” Sera’s mouth twitched. ”Congratulations. You win.”

Mary exhaled, and a faint, secret smile touched her lips. It was gone almost before I could be certain I had seen it.

”One down,” I murmured.

”Arthur. Theodore.” Sera flipped the coin again. ”Your turn.”

Arthur rubbed his palms together with the solemnity of a priest preparing for a sacrament. Theodore only crossed his arms and stared at the coin with half-lidded, bored eyes, as though the outcome were already written somewhere and he was merely waiting for the rest of us to catch up.

”King,” Arthur declared boldly.

”Tomb,” Theodore said.

The coin rose. It fell and rang against the stone, rolled in a lazy, mocking circle, and finally settled.

The mausoleum glared up at us.

”No,” Arthur whispered, crestfallen. ”Not again.”

”I have never lost a coin toss in my life,” Theodore said placidly.

”That is a flagrant lie.”

”It is a statistical certainty.”

”That is not what those words mean.”

”It is now.”

I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning. Arthur slumped dramatically, a defeated knight in a play, while Lee muttered something about children and fate.

”Final round,” Sera announced. She cleared her throat and held up the coin like an official at a tournament. ”Mary against Theodore. The winner goes with Edmund. Let the gods be merciful, and let them not be dramatic about it.”

Mary stepped forward. Theodore rose, unhurried, and brushed ash from his sleeves. The two of them faced each other across the fire, and for one absurd moment I felt the air tighten, as though a duel of unfathomable consequence were about to begin.

All over a coin.

”King,” Mary said, her voice calm and clear.

Theodore considered her. A slow, unreadable smile curved his lips.

”Then I take the tomb again.”

Sera flipped it.

It sang through the air, brighter than before, climbing higher than it had any right to. I could hear my own heartbeat. Arthur had stopped breathing entirely. Even Lee had turned his head, abandoning his pretense of disinterest.

Clink!

It landed on a flat stone near the fire’s edge and spun, a silver whirlwind, whispering against the rock.

Faster. Slower. A wobble. A final, shuddering rattle.

And it stilled.

Nobody moved.

Sera crouched and leaned over it. Her expression was inscrutable, but I saw her eyebrow lift, just slightly, in that damnable way that mirrored my own.

”Well?” Mary asked.

”The mausoleum,” Sera said.

A hush...

Then Arthur threw both arms into the air with a strangled cry. ”He won again! This is witchcraft, it must be witchcraft!”

”It is skill,” Theodore said, with grave and insufferable serenity.

”It is a conspiracy!”

Mary dipped her head and smiled, entirely without bitterness, and the gracious little gesture made me like her even more. ”Congratulations, Theodore. Look after him.”

”I shall,” Theodore replied, and turned to me.

His eyes gleamed in the firelight, dark and amused and a shade too pleased with himself. He extended a hand, palm up, with the courtesy of a nobleman and the mischief of a boy who has just pulled off the perfect prank.

”I guess,” he said, ”you and I are going to be partners.”