Free The Bard Speaks by Montgomery Mahaffey Page B

town. It’s the oldest gambling house in the country. This is the place where the beautiful people meet. Gentlemen dress in velvet coats and breeches in colors of hunter green, midnight blue, and classic black. The ladies of ill repute are a sight to be seen in their glossy silks of ruby, emerald, sapphire, and pearl. Their gowns fit to their flesh like a second skin, and are cut to reveal their luscious curves.”
    “The casino is the place where gamblers discover just how beloved they are by Fortuna, the capricious lady of chance. The guests infected with greedy fever often lose regrettable pieces of their estate, for she is fickle in her favorites.”
    “But this fashion town has no protection from Ella Bandita.”
     
    ****
     
    Last year, she struck big at the peak of their season. She took down the highest roller that was ever seen there.
    He was winning when he first saw her.
    He was a young nobleman from the north. He was a gambler to his core and that night belonged to him. Like most indulgent sons of the upper class, he came with a large party of friends. They were at his side that night, cheering with each roll of the dice. He could do no wrong with his predictions. Every time the dice stopped and revealed the numbers he called, the dealer pushed large piles of chips his way each time.
    His father was a Patron of great property, but he had no interest in learning the business of the estate. His passion for gaming came first, before work, study, love, drink, and pleasures of the flesh. Nothing gave him the euphoria he craved more than rolling the dice, calling the numbers and calling them right. His luck was uncanny. They say he won every season he was invited to this fashion town. He could have easily lost the family fortune with the bets he made.
    But the Gambling Man always won.
    That night, he was in company with the most sought after courtesan that season, a beautiful woman known as Isabella. Fancy name she had, but it wasn’t the one she was given at birth. The Courtesan Isabella would have been grateful to have her origins amongst people like us. She was born wretched poor, but there was no proof of it that night. She stood next to and one step behind a young man blessed in birth, wealth, and luck. She was dressed in a gown the same color as her skin, the neckline cut low. She had her shining hair piled high on her head. Her brown eyes were sparkling, more likely from drops of belladonna, but perhaps it was happiness.
    Her escort was young and her favorite kind of handsome. She preferred gentleman built for elegance— slender with long limbs, the neat features of his face perfectly balanced. His muddy hazel eyes were empty when he wasn’t at the tables, but Isabella was not such a woman to take notice of that. She was in company with a gambler on a winning streak and all she thought about was the promise of a lucrative reward. She may have felt something akin to joy that night, or as close as she would ever know.
    Just before the Gambling Man first saw the Thief of Hearts, the dealer pushed the rest of his chips to him and whispered to the watchman that he hadn’t enough for the next round. The company of the Gambling Man laughed and cheered when they heard, but the friends standing at his side resented him. Whoever placed their bets on the Gambling Man was sure to win, but his friends were almost as bitter as the opponents betting against him. Those spoiled noblemen were jealous of his touch with the dice, and envy seared through them all every time the comely Isabella pressed into the back of the Gambling Man.
    They had heard the talents of the Courtesan Isabella had to be experienced to be believed. The gown she wore that night proved her reputation must be well deserved. She might as well have been standing there naked as the first woman Eve, dressed in shimmering cream that left them wondering where the silk ended and the flesh began. While they waited for the games to resume, the Gambling Man