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  BLACK PAWN

  Vampire Court

  Ingrid Seymour

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BLACK PAWN

  First edition. April 2, 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Ingrid Seymour

  Written by Ingrid Seymour

  Cover Designed by Deranged Doctor Designs

  To Ossie… my feline desk companion

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

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  Also By Ingrid Seymour

  About The Author

  CHAPTER 1

  She was here, in a red dress this time, her brown hair falling in loose curls around her shoulders. Her lady-help walked beside her, carrying a weaved basket for their purchases.

  For the past ten minutes, I’d been watching her from behind one of the market stalls, memorizing the curve of her hips and imagining my hands around her narrow waist, getting myself sick with lust.

  Holy Gambit, she was beautiful.

  Beautiful and totally beyond my reach. And yet, she had noticed me. I’d caught her looking at me more than once the last time she was here, her dark eyes darting back and forth as she tried to disguise her interest. Would she notice me again?

  Nonchalantly, I stepped out of my hiding place and strolled toward the cheese vendor, closer to the beautiful young woman.

  The market was crowded as usual, even at this early morning hour. Mostly, it was lady-helps and cooks with their kitchen maids, but a few ladies were also sprinkled in. It was easy to tell by the quality of their dresses and the elegant way they carried themselves.

  The scent of fresh cheese and herbs hit my nose, making me hungry. I jiggled the few Chekes I had in my pocket, but I couldn’t buy food with them, not when rent was overdue. Besides, I couldn’t eat when my little brother needed the nourishment more than I did. He was a growing boy, while I’d already grown as tall as Father. Of course, I’d had the advantage of regular meals while I was growing up—no such luck for Timotei.

  I turned toward the cheese vendor and smiled to myself when I felt her eyes on me. She had noticed me, almost immediately. If only I had better clothes to wear, more Chekes in my pocket, I might approach her, talk to her, and maybe...

  Don’t be stupid, Nyro.

  Still, I couldn’t help but daydream. Especially when her lady-help distracted her with questions about the apples from one of the vendors, and she looked annoyed at the interruption.

  “May I inquire as to your name?” I imagined myself asking.

  It wouldn’t be anything like Helga or Simona. It would be beautiful, appropriate.

  As she talked to her lady-help, I moved along past the honey and jam vendor, past the sacks of potatoes and yams, and stopped at the baker’s.

  Appearing annoyed at her lady-help, the young woman in red searched for me, her eyes roving around the different stalls. When she spotted me, I focused on the rhubarb tarts, my chest filling with satisfaction.

  A lady attracted to the likes of me. How scandalous.

  “How much are the tarts?” I asked the baker’s assistant, a boy of about fifteen.

  He held up five fingers, as I’d expected.

  “What about the rolls?” I pointed to the other end of the stall, taking the boy’s attention away from the tarts and quickly slipping two of them into the old leather bag I carried slung across my chest.

  “One Cheke,” the boy said.

  I couldn’t glance back to judge Lady Red’s reaction, but it wasn’t hard to imagine. I didn’t know what sort of twisted defiance drove me to let her witness my thieving, but it gave me pleasure to cause her surprise, to make her feel something other than the boredom her life must entail.

  Looking beside herself, she turned to her lady-help and spoke something in her ear. Her companion looked displeased with her. I smirked. So Lady Red wasn’t as prim and proper as she was expected to be. I liked her even more for that. Still smiling to myself, I turned to leave.

  I’d taken but a few steps when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me,” a refined voice said.

  Fearing I’d been discovered, my head snapped back. Lady Red was standing behind me, a haughty expression on her face. Her presence shocked me for an instant, but I recovered quickly.

  “Yes, milady?” I said with a smile and a bow.

  Her dark eyes sparkled as she examined my face. I examined her in turn, taking the opportunity to drink in her every feature. As I admired her smooth skin, long lashes, and perfect nose, I found myself enthralled. My smile deepened.

  Something passed between us. I couldn’t explain what, but it made my chest feel strange. Judging by a slight blush on her cheeks, I knew she felt it, too.

  “How... how can I help you, milady?” I asked, trying to sound confident, even though having her this close gave me an unexpected, nervous knot in my stomach.

  Drawing a deep breath, Lady Red straightened and donned her haughty attitude once more as if it were a costume for one of the masquerade parties the gentry normally attended.

  “I have a simple request,” she said.

  “And what, pray tell, is milady’s request?” I said, adding a wink for good measure.

  Her eyes widened, and she looked appalled by the simple gesture. I almost laughed at her outrage, but I managed to keep a straight face.

  “Take this,” she said in a commanding tone, jutting out her hip and extending a closed fist in my direction.

  I frowned, wondering what she could possibly wish to give me. Overwhelmed by curiosity, I extended my hand to receive her offering. Ten Chekes dropped onto my open palm.

  “Pay the boy for the tarts you stole,” she ordered.

  I flinched, stunned by her audacity. What made her think she could order me around? I stared into her dark eyes, trying to understand her purpose. Had she done this as an excuse to approach and talk to me? I wanted to believe that, but perhaps that was just my ego’s talking.

  She stared right back, tempting me with her sudden wildness, a certain fire that burned deep in her eyes and promised passion.

  “The boy is likely an apprentice, thief,” she said, breaking me out of her spell. “And when he gets back, he’ll have to explain to his master why he’s short on change. It will, without a doubt, cost him his post, his livelihood.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “And you care about that?” I asked, wondering if this was the true reason she’d come to me.

  She narrowed her eyes back at me and, after a moment’s pause, she said, “I care not to have thieves wandering about Acedrex, my city. And I’m sure the White Queen and Black King don’t either.”

  I clenched my fists. She was a sympathizer of those monsters? But what had I expected? She was a well-off lady who wore dresses that could feed Timotei and me for weeks. Of course she sympathized with our cruel vampire rulers.

  Feeling strangely betrayed, I snorted and pocketed the coins she’d given me. “If you’re worried about thieves, you should probably hold on tighter to your Chekes.”

  She gasped. “You can’t—”

  “Oh, dear!” Her lady-help came running and, looking horrified to find her charg
e speaking to me, she pulled her away.

  “Get away from that man,” she ordered.

  “But Talyssa, he’s a thief,” Lady Red protested.

  At the commotion, the shoppers around us took interest.

  Not good. I needed to leave.

  Just then, Lady Red yanked her arm out of her companion’s grip, knocking the shopping basket out of the woman’s hand and sending her purchases—bright, glossy apples and purple flowers—to the cobblestones.

  “Oh, gods!” the lady-help exclaimed. Apples rolled at her feet. She hurried to pick them up, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

  “Oh my, this is terrible,” I said in mock concern as I grabbed the fallen basket. “Let me help.”

  Quickly, I gathered all the apples and flowers into the basket and offered them back.

  “Here you go, milady,” I said, putting on my best smile, the one that helped me get my way with the girls at the pottery, where I sometimes was hired for odd jobs if the smithy had nothing for me.

  “Oh.” She pressed a hand to her bosom, turning even pinker. “Thank you.” She batted her eyelashes.

  Lady Red huffed, clearly bothered by the situation. Then, to my shock, she called for the Sentries.

  “Sentries!” she cried out.

  I sighed, my shoulders sagging. Really, I didn’t know why I felt such disappointment. She was a well-to-do, frivolous girl. Of course she felt protected by our monarchs and their stupid Sentries. Members of the upper crust never ended up on the dinner menu. That was for the likes of me and my brother.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said between clenched teeth.

  She raised her perfect eyebrows, then cried out even louder, “Sentries, a thief.”

  What a fiery creature. If I could, I would show her how this thief could tame her.

  Ready to make an exit, I rested a hand on my heart and bowed. “If we meet again, I would like you to know and remember that my name is Nyro, not thief.”

  Hurried steps sounded behind the stalls. The Sentries were upon us.

  Lady Red turned toward the sound.

  I took a step back. A strange longing filled my chest at the sight of her erect posture and straight shoulders. She probably didn’t know it, but I bet she would be a handful in bed.

  Taking advantage of everyone’s distraction, I sneaked behind one of the stalls and hurried my pace out of the market. The last thing I wanted was to end up as vampire fodder because of a hot-headed woman in a pretty dress.

  CHAPTER 2

  Leaving the commotion behind, I traveled through several white and black squares before arriving to Square H7, where Timotei and I lived.

  The city was divided like a chessboard, and we resided on the last white square on the upper right corner of the board.

  The white sections were controlled by Queen Lovina and the black by King Maximus. It was a stupid layout for a city, but it was what the original vampire queen and king had decreed all those centuries ago: a city like a chessboard, white and black commingling but always at war in an endless strategic game to control the entire board—not that Lovina and Maximus actually fought for that control. They hated each other, that was true enough. But true squabbles among monarchs had come and gone over a century ago, when they finally realized they couldn’t destroy each other, only their subjects, or more accurately their blood supply.

  That Timotei and I rented a room on a white square was no accident. Neither was the fact that H7 as far away as possible from the Black Palace. We’d picked the place quite on purpose because, even if both our monarchs were vampire monsters, Queen Lovina was the least of the two evils.

  As I approached our street, I pushed these musings out of my mind and thought of Timotei instead. I could already see his face light up at the sight of the rhubarb tarts. They were his favorite, and he hadn’t had one in a long while.

  I didn’t like to steal. It put Timotei in danger. He was only eight, though he acted like he was four most of the time, something that worried me to no end.

  Before mother died, she made me swear I would protect him, but he didn’t make it easy. He was reckless despite his curse, which he’d inherited from Father. He didn’t seem to understand that if he was discovered, his existence would turn into a living hell. I wished he could recall the details of how this had almost happened to Father, but Timotei had been too young for the traumatic events to remain in his memory.

  I was only fourteen when the King’s Black Rooks took our old man.

  We’d all been together that day: Mother, Father, Timotei and me. We hadn’t been rich, but we’d been happy. Father was a blacksmith and got steady work at his shop. Every afternoon, I helped him and learned the trade, after Mother taught me my letters and numbers. They hoped I would go to the academy and get a diploma—maybe even gain a good social standing within Acedrex.

  On weekends, when there were a few extra Chekes left, Father would take us to an inn at the center of town. He would buy himself a tall tankard of ale, and for mother and me, he would buy a loaf of hot bread and a large bowl of beef stew. Timotei had been two then, and he’d spent most of his time gawking, distracted by all the new people and things. It had been perfect until one fateful evening after visiting the inn.

  The King’s Rooks had been out looking for a “new taste” for the Black King. He had been bored with his usual blood slaves, so he’d requested something different. They stopped us on the street and decided Mother would do. The King preferred supple females.

  “No, you can’t take her,” Father tried to reason. “She has a babe. The boy is barely two. It’s... it’s against the law.”

  The law.

  It was a farce. But the Board—Pawns, Rooks, Knights, and Bishops—pretended to follow it. So, out of spite, they chose Father instead, which was also against the law, since he was the breadwinner of our family.

  When Mother tried to point this out, Father had stopped her and glanced pointedly at Timotei and me, making his choice clear. He would not put our lives in danger. Instead, he kissed his wife and youngest son on the forehead, then turned to me.

  Taking me by the shoulders, he said, “You’re the man of the house, now. You have to take care of your mother and brother.”

  He wiped the tears from my eyes as I fought to hold them back.

  “You’re a brave boy, Nyro. Can I count on you?” I nodded, even though I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and hold him there with us.

  But even then I’d known not to interfere with the Board, even then I’d understood that King Maximus was a monster among monsters.

  A few days later, we’d heard that Father was dead. He had taken his own life before anyone discovered what he was, before the effects of his daily bloodshade wore off. He hadn’t wanted to be a blood slave and, by doing so, he had also protected his family, since the Rooks would have hunted us under the suspicion that we were also Troves.

  It didn’t protect us from other things, though. Not even two months later, Mother took ill and died. People said it was from a broken heart, nothing anyone could have prevented. I believed them.

  Still, I had failed Father.

  She had died under my watch, and Timotei was left without a mother.

  I was doing my best with him, trying to raise him the way Mother and Father would have liked, but I was a poor substitute, and my brother was willful. He didn't listen to me most of the time and constantly got in trouble.

  Mrs. Pinehurst—our landlady who had rented us her small attic after mother died—said it was to be expected, that a boy without a mother was like a dog without a leash.

  But even if there’d been a leash, there was no one to hold it. I had to work day and night just to keep a roof over our heads and stale bread on the old history and mathematics books that served as our table, books Father had bought for me to better myself and which I had read a thousand times.

  I sighed, feeling tired to the bone, and turned onto our street, looking forward to taking my old boot
s off and stretching on my bedroll. I had worked all night, digging three graves at the White Cemetery to make room for the bodies that came out from the Queen’s palace, daily. Though, apparently, her body count was nothing compared to the King’s.

  “Nyro!” Florin, Timotei’s best friend, came running in my direction before I arrived home.

  Something about his expression made my chest tighten. His eyes were wide, and his face as pale as one of Mrs. Pinehurst’s sheets.

  “What is it, Florin?” I asked. “Where’s Timotei?”

  His chest was rising and falling at a rapid rate. He looked up at me, his mouth clamped shut into a thin line. What had my naughty brother done this time? Hopefully, nothing that required me to spend any money. Last month, he’d shattered a window at the butcher shop while he practiced hitting rocks with a stick.

  Florin swallowed and spoke in a tiny squeak. “He wouldn’t listen to me. I told him not to, but he...”

  “He what?” I asked, crouching to look him straight in the eye.

  “He crossed to H8,” he said, hugging himself.

  “He what?”

  As if someone had set me on fire, my blood began to burn. Timotei had crossed to a black square, when he was expressly forbidden to do that.

  “And where is he now?” I asked, thinking of the belting I would give him.

  Florin shook his head. “He... he hasn’t come back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  “Where did he cross?” I asked.

  “We were playing marbles by Mr. Whitbrade’s well.”

  I straightened, chest tight, fists clenched.

  Calm down, Nyro. Timotei’s fine. He’s fine.

  “Thanks for telling me, Florin.” I ruffled his hair. “Look, if you see him, tell him to come home right away. Tell him... tell him I have a rhubarb tart for him.”

  Florin nodded, the paleness on his cheeks subsiding a little.

  Trying to keep calm, I made it to Mrs. Pinehurst’s house and entered through the back door as I was supposed to. I crossed through the empty kitchen, the smell of baked bread forcing its way into my nostrils. Around a tight corner, I climbed the ladder to our home attic.