37. Gamble II

Kier

Jessamine approaches, and I can’t help but suppress a chuckle at the sight. Covered in a tattered tunic that seems more suited for peasants, pants that look one step away from becoming rags, and worn boots that have more holes in them than all my clothes put together, she looks absolutely ridiculous.

A brown leather belt hugs her waist, a dagger hanging off it in plain sight. Gloves cover her hands, weathered and stained with Goddess knows what, and a scarf is clumsily wrapped around her hair, failing to conceal a few strands of that luscious hair that frames her face.

Yes, at first glance, she resembles a little man. But her violet eyes, there’s no hiding that spark of mischief forever in them. Or those lips that could never be found on a man’s face. Or her pert little nose. Or those dimples that grace her cheeks when she pouts, looking at me like I’m the one who looks ridiculous.

“Kier, do you wish to get mugged?” she asks, closing the distance between us in swift, confident st