She always does, I thought, coldly. The sums on each of the slips were low but put together, they were a decent income. Dad had always called gambling rings taxes on stupid people — and I was inclined to agree — yet Juliet was far from stupid. What is she doing…?
I stared at the slips. Something was nagging at my mind. Something I’d missed. Something… I looked at the last dated slip — last weekend — and knew. Juliet was betting on her own games. I’d watched the game myself… worse, I’d written a detailed report on every last play and counter-play. Juliet had lost and yet, according to the betting slip, she’d won?
For a moment, I refused to believe it. She bet on her own team to lose?
My mind spun in circles. I held the majority of sports-mad students in absolute contempt. I wouldn’t trust them to add two and two together and get four. And yet, I was sure Juliet had a higher opinion of her fellow players. And yet… I skimmed back through the slips, silently blessing my father for forcing me to develop my recollection skills. The pattern came into focus very quickly. Juliet had bet against her own team, repeatedly, and made a considerable sum of money doing so.
I swallowed, hard, as I recalled how intensively she’d planned the last game, the one I’d watched her lose. Is she throwing the games to make money?
It was a distasteful thought. I’d understand someone rigging a game to win, but to lose…?
“She’s mad,” I said, out loud. “She can’t get away with it, can she?”
I wasn’t sure, in all honesty, that was true. The plan was surprisingly simple. Put out a plan that would leave plenty of opportunity for the opposing team to score and force your team to stick to it. If you knew the other team very well, and Juliet did, it would be easy to predict what they’d do. And then bet against your own term, working through a proxy to ensure your name was never mentioned. I worked my way through the figures and frowned as I noted another pattern. On the surface, Juliet — or rather her proxy — had won some and lost others. A deeper look showed she always won when serious money was at stake. I was surprised none of the gambling rings had noted the pattern…
If she went to a handful of different betting shops, I mused, they might not notice anything unless they compared notes.
I slumped against the bed, feeling as if I’d gone fishing for minnows and wound up catching a shark. This was serious. This was… I looked down at the slips, wondering if they’d be enough to prove Juliet was rigging the games against herself. And yet… I swallowed hard. It was difficult to believe… if someone had brought the story to me, a few hours ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. How in the name of all the gods did she intend to get away with it? When word got out, and it would, she’d be lucky if she was merely kicked out of the sporting leagues. The leagues took sports seriously. They’d try to brand her an outlaw and harry her from her home.
“She’s mad,” I said, again. “Why…?”
The door opened. Juliet stepped into the room.
I froze. I was dead.
Chapter 6
“You little…” Juliet staggered, just for a second, as she saw the betting slips in my hand. “Give them to me, you…”
“You cheat,” I said. It was hard to lace my voice with the amount of contempt she deserved, but I tried. “You bet against your own team!”
Juliet’s face flickered through an incomprehensible series of emotions. She was shocked and guilty and determined and… she stepped forward, closing the door behind her. I felt powerful privacy wards — too powerful — snap into place. I cursed my own mistake as she loomed over me, her magic billowing on the air. She was far too powerful for me to take in a duel and… I kicked myself, mentally, for not trying to flee the moment I’d realised what she’d been doing. Now, I was practically at her mercy. I had no doubt she was planning one final gamble before her house of cards came crashing down.
“You read my mail,” Juliet said. “Do you think anyone will pay attention to whatever you have to say?”
I couldn’t help myself. I snickered. “After they look at the betting slips, how much attention do you think they’ll pay to you?”
Juliet reddened. “You don’t understand.”
“I think I do.” I tried to look down my nose at her. It wasn’t easy — she was taller than me — but the flash of anger that crossed her face suggested she’d taken the point. “You plan your games carefully, leaving windows of opportunity for the other team to score. You micromanage your team to ensure their opportunities are few and far between. You boss them around to make sure they don’t even think of taking an unplanned shot. You rig the game against them and then you bet on the outcome, an outcome you have already predetermined. Right?”
“It seems an absurd story,” Juliet said. “Have you ever heard of a Captain-General who played to lose?”
I felt another piece of the puzzle fall into place. “It does seem absurd, until you look at the betting pattern and the games,” I said. “That’s why you were so angry about my report! I didn’t understand, not until now. Anyone reading a detailed report of the last few games might see a pattern, a pattern carefully prepared by the planner. By you! And you couldn’t risk firing me for obeying your orders because someone might take a close look at my analysis and see the pattern. I should have seen it sooner.”
Juliet made a gesture in my direction. Her magic surged. I tried to duck, too late. My hands snapped behind my back and clasped each other tightly, tightly enough to hurt. My feet were suddenly stuck to the floor. I tried to muster a counterspell, only to have it shatter harmlessly against her power. She smirked at me as I tried again, to no avail. I’d duelled my peers — and lost more than I’d won — but Juliet was an order of magnitude more powerful than any of them. I was completely at her mercy.
Her voice became honeyed, dripping with magic. “How many people have you told?”
I fought — gods, I fought — but her compulsion spell was just too strong. My treacherous lips opened, no matter how much I tried to tell them to stay closed.
“No one.”
Juliet smirked. I felt a rush of shame and humiliation. She had me in her power, and she knew it. She could make me say or do or believe anything… I cursed myself for not thinking ahead, for not taking precautions to jog my memory if someone wiped it. Dad would have known better. He was very good at reflecting on his thoughts, noting the discrepancies and working through the memories to work out what he’d been made to forget. I was nowhere near as capable and I knew it. As long as Juliet was careful, I would never know I’d left her room with a slice gapped out of my memory. And if I had no reason to question the cover story…
“No one,” Juliet repeated. “How… unfortunate.”
Something clicked in my mind. I forced myself to speak. “You’re not as wealthy as they say, are you?”
Juliet’s eyes flashed murder. “My family is rich!”
“Yes, but you’re not,” I said. Thomas had called Juliet out for not paying for the drinks. It was possible she’d tried to hide her involvement — alcohol and magicians didn’t mix — but he’d have been a little more understanding if that was all it was. It made a great deal more sense to think she might be nowhere near as personally rich as she claimed. Sure, most aristos gave their children enough pocket money to buy a castle or two, but not all. “I think you wouldn’t have taken the risk if you weren’t desperate for money.”