The ridge held the last of the sun like it didn't want to give it back.
Cole rode up slow. No hurry. No reason to pretend he didn't feel the eyes on him.
Dusty sensed her before he did—low growl, steady, the kind that meant something wrong was standing quiet.
She appeared on the ridge line without sound.
Not walking into view. Already there.
Her coat hung clean. Boots untouched by dust. Red stitching along the seams caught the dying light and held it—thin, precise. Not decorative. Purpose-built.
Dusty growled louder.
Cole kept the revolver low. Not holstered. Not raised. Held like a thought he wasn't sure he wanted to have.
The woman smiled.
Not wide.Not teeth.A smile that said the game had already started and he was late to his own seat.
"You made good time," she said.
Her voice carried without help. No echo. No wind. Just placed in the air like a card on a table.
Rett sucked in a sharp breath behind Cole.Cole didn't turn.
"Rustline's east," Cole said. "You're standing on the wrong side of the road."
She looked at her boots, amused.
"No," she said. "I'm exactly where I meant to be."
She lifted the card in her hand.
The Queen of Hearts.
Perfect edges. Glossy. Clean. It bent the dying light like the world was giving it room.
Dusty moved forward a step.
Cole rested a hand on the dog's neck.
"Easy."
The woman's eyes flicked to Dusty. Curious. Interested. Appraising him like a weapon she hadn't ordered but wouldn't mind holding.
"So that's the miracle," she said. "They told me you'd have something… extra."
Cole didn't answer.
Didn't ask who "they" were. He knew the answer wouldn't make anything better.
A pressure tightened behind his eyes.The House stirring.
The woman stepped down from the ridge.
The ground didn't crunch under her boot.
It accepted her weight like it had been waiting.
Rett whimpered. Tried to go backward. Stopped when Cole lifted two fingers.
"Stay."
The woman tilted her head.
"Still collecting strays," she said. "Consistent."
Cole raised the revolver—slow, deliberate—aimed at the card, not her.
"If you came to talk," he said, "put that away."
She laughed softly.
"Oh, Ranger," she said. "This is me putting it away."
She slid the Queen of Hearts into her coat.
The pressure eased. Not gone. Just postponed.
A flicker of system text appeared and died.
INTERACTION LOGGED
She kept walking.
Ten paces out she stopped.
Close enough for Cole to see the thin pale scar along her jaw. Old. Earned. Not softened.
She smelled faintly of ink.
"Name," Cole said.
She smiled without warmth.
"Queen," she said.
"Real one."
"Lena. Once. Doesn't fit now."
Names mattered. Even discarded ones left trails.
"You left a card in my house," Cole said.
"Yes."
"You killed my family."
Her smile didn't change.
"No," she said. "I arranged for their deaths."
Rett made a sound like something breaking inside him.
Dusty's growl deepened.
Cold settled behind Cole's ribs.
"Difference?" he asked.
"For me?" she said. "Everything."
That was when Cole raised the revolver fully.
This time at her face.
The House snapped awake.
HOUSE OF RECKONING // HIGH-STAKES PROXIMITYROYAL ENTITY CONFIRMEDPENALTY FOR VIOLENCE WITHOUT WAGER: SEVERE
Cole didn't blink.
"Step back," he said.
She didn't.
"You won't shoot," she said. "You're disciplined."
She stepped forward.
The air tightened like a hand bracing for impact.
"Don't," Rett whispered.
Cole didn't turn.
"Close your eyes."
Rett obeyed.
The woman stopped.Not because of the gun.
Because of the silence.
"You feel it," she said. "The way the House leans when the moment matters."
Cole did feel it.
Like the world was holding its breath.
"You set a table," he said. "Rustline."
"Yes."
"You want me there."
"Yes."
"Why not just kill me on the road."
She smiled.
"Because this isn't about killing you. It's about seeing what you wager."
Cold words.
"You're bait," Cole said.
"For bigger fish," she said. "For Royals who think they can't be touched. For a King who's been stacking the deck."
Cole felt the Ace of Spades against his ribs.
"You think I'll help you."
"I think you already are."
She reached into her coat.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Cole's finger tightened.
She pulled out a different card.
Ten of Clubs.
Cole's stomach turned.
"That was in my house," he said.
"And now it's mine again."
She flipped it once. The card vanished back into her coat.
"The deck is leaking," she said. "The House disapproves. We disapprove more."
Cole's jaw clenched.
"You come to Rustline," she said. "You sit at the table I set. You play the hand you're dealt."
"And if I don't?"
"Someone else will. Someone far less interesting."
The House flickered.
OFFER DETECTED
Cole felt the cost—pressure on memory, on something warm he hadn't lost yet.
"What's the ante," he asked.
Her smile widened.
"There it is."
She held up two fingers.
"First hand is small. Luck. Maybe a little blood. Second hand… depends how much you're willing to remember."
Dusty bared teeth.
Cole calmed him with a touch.
"Rustline," he said.
"One table," she replied."I don't like crowds."
She stepped back.
This time the ground crunched.
The spell broke.
"Oh," she said, turning away. "Bring the dog."
Cole frowned.
"Why."
She looked back once.
"Because the House is watching him. And curiosity is dangerous when you're not there to witness it."
Then she was gone.
Not vanished.
Gone the way a thought leaves—clean, immediate, absolute.
The ridge felt empty after her.
Rett breathed like a man surfacing from deep water.
Dust settled in old shapes.
The House spoke once more.
DESTINATION MARKEDRUSTLINE HOLD — ACTIVE TABLETIME WINDOW: OPEN
Cole holstered the revolver.
Closed his eyes for half a second.
Just long enough to feel the hole where laughter used to live.
He opened them again.
"Can you ride?" he asked Rett.
Rett nodded too fast.
Cole swung onto the mule. Dusty leapt up behind him.
The east glowed faintly.
Waiting.
They rode toward it.
And somewhere far ahead, a deck finished shuffling.