Black Rook Page 7

  My blood froze as Timotei's gaze darted across the room and found mine. Immediately, his face twisted further in fear, and he began to cry.

  “Don’t, pet,” the King said in his ear, brushing Timotei’s blond hair off his forehead. “Aren’t you happy to see your brother? I thought you would like it.”

  Timotei stretched his arms in my direction, attempting to hop off the King’s knee. “Nyro,” he sobbed.

  Lazily, the King laid a hand on Timotei’s shoulder, keeping him in place. I trembled on the spot, anger roiling in my chest. I took a deep breath. An angry spectacle... that’s what Maximus wanted. I couldn’t keep falling in his trap, but I had to give him something, didn’t I? But what?

  I turned to Loredana, my lips stretching into a tiny, satisfied smile. She glanced away, pretending to focus on the Challenge Vessel, though the worry on her face was impossible to miss.

  “Please, continue,” the Black King said. “I’m just another spectator.”

  Timotei continued to sob, while Maximus petted him, ruffling his hair with every pass.

  “Hello, Timotei,” I said in a neutral voice.

  Knight Traian took a step forward, his mouth opening to protest at my talking out of turn, except he didn’t say anything. Instead, he peered hesitantly toward the King, who wore an amused smile.

  On the other side of the hall, Knight Arcos and his Quadrant remained immobile as if trying to avoid being noticed by King Maximus, lest they suffer a similar fate as Traian’s Quadrant.

  “You needn’t cry, brother.” I continued. “I will be First Pawn after today.”

  “The hell yeh will,” Rook Sanda said in a tone barely loud enough to be heard, his pretend accent gone.

  “Quiet, Sanda!” Knight Traian ordered.

  “Are you taking sides, Rook?” the King said. “That’s unseemly.”

  Maybe in a way, I was the King’s favorite, even if the only reason was that my situation alleviated his boredom. Well, I couldn’t disappoint him, could I?

  “Yes, quite so,” I said. “Rook Sanda thinks himself a bully, which makes him a terrible, terrible Rook.”

  Sanda shot to his feet, teeth bared, fists clenched in front of him. “How dare yeh? Yeh know nothin’. A few months here and yeh already think yehrself betta.”

  “I don’t think myself better,” I spat back. “I am. Just listen to yourself. You can’t even speak properly.”

  Rook Sanda’s face changed colors like a horseshoe in the forge, going from normal to bright red in a matter of seconds. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped abruptly, his eyes lowering, his broad face filling with confusion.

  I followed his gaze to find Timotei, standing by my side. My heart stammered at seeing him there, small and fragile, in the middle of all these beasts. My first instinct was to pick him up and run to safety. The Challenge Hall was a slaughterhouse, and I didn’t want him here—not when death loomed like a garland over our heads.

  It took all my strength of will to act nonchalantly. I turned to him, stretching my lips into a smile.

  “Timotei,” I said, simply resting a hand on his shoulder when what I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and never let him go.

  His clear blue eyes stared up at me from a too-pale face, void of the rosiness it used to possess after he’d been playing outside with his friends.

  I looked at the King, wondering why he’d let him go, his precious Trove. Did he not fear what the Knights or Rooks might do for a taste of his blood? Even now, they were watching him as if he were a side of roast beef and not an innocent, little boy.

  “What is it, brother?” I said, flicking his nose playfully. I despised myself for my traitorous thoughts, but I found myself wishing he would go back to the dais, where he could be safe from whatever was about to go down.

  Timotei took my hand and yanked my arm is his direction. I staggered down to one knee until I was face to face with my brother. Tears wavered in his eyes, giving them a strange silver tint. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my cheek, then pulled away and ran back to the dais to sit cross-legged at the foot of the throne as if he, indeed, were nothing but a pet, a little dog that heeled to his master.

  I got back to my feet slowly, my gaze locked with the King’s. Such cruelty. Such mockery of our feelings and lives. Was he so empty that he found amusement in suffering? Was that the only emotion that could reach him and make him remember what it was to be alive?

  Sanda sat back down, his gaze fixed on a spot on the far wall. I could only imagine what he was thinking. The King had let his favorite pet come kiss me. Any doubts the Rook had harbored were surely gone after that little display.

  The King did play favorites, even I was starting to believe it.

  I turned to Loredana. She was standing by the Challenge Vessel, her shoulders curved in, her head lowered, as if she were trying to make herself invisible. She was clenching a small box in her right hand, the piece that determined the type of challenge we would fight.

  For Pawns, there were three boxes inside the vessel: a Pawn, a Rook, and a Knight. The Pawn indicated a sword fight. The Rook: a physical confrontation. And the Knight: a horse race.

  Loredana was good at all of them, good enough to beat me. Yet, she was willing to lose for a pardon. Now, more than ever, it seemed.

  “So what’s it going to be, Loredana?” I asked.

  Her jaw twitched, surely in surprise. It was Knight Traian’s job to conduct the challenge, but he seemed distracted, lost in his own thoughts. Was he questioning the stability of his position, now?

  I allowed my gaze to rove around. Knight Arcos and Rook Datcu had a similar look in their eyes.

  Why was Maximus trying to undermine the members of his Board? I frowned, considering. A thousand thoughts formed in the back of my mind, trying to push themselves to the forefront. I held them back, however. I had no time to ponder this question at the moment—not when Loredana opened the box and pulled out a Pawn chess piece, and she wasted no time to draw her sword and lunge at me.

  CHAPTER 20

  Loredana’s sword cut through the air a few inches from my face just as I jumped back, drawing my own sword.

  She came at me, slicing up and down, her arm like the sail of a windmill in a storm. I ducked left and right, barely missing each killing slash.

  Hadn’t she said she would lose if I pardoned her? But I guess I hadn’t given her an answer. And even if I had, the fight had to appear as genuine as possible, lest we both got punished for playing tricks.

  She came at me again. This time, I jumped forward, blocking her sword arm with my left arm and pushing my body against hers.

  “I will...” I growled loudly enough for all to hear, “... kill you,” I added, hoping she could understand my meaning.

  If it came to it, I would have to drive my sword through her, but I really didn’t want to. She hadn’t been nice to me, no one had, but she didn’t deserve to die. I had killed Ungur and Brigita to become Fourth Pawn. That was enough blood on my hands.

  Our swords clashed over and over as we parried each other’s blows. In a surprising move, Loredana ducked, placing a hand on the floor and kicking at my wrist with her boot.

  My sword went flying out of my hand. It hit the floor with a clatter, then slid away. I dove for it, while Loredana pushed back to her feet and took chase.

  Reaching my sword, I gripped the hilt and rolled out of the way just as Loredana stabbed her sword at the spot I’d just vacated. She stabbed again. I rolled once more, her sharp blade grazing my side.

  I growled in pain. Warm blood slid down my ribs under my shirt. A cry from my brother reached my ears, but I ignored it.

  Not caring if Loredana’s sword sliced my leg, I kicked at it as she was lifting it to stab again. The blade cut through my pants and into my leg, cutting it as if it were a piece of butter. I gritted my teeth and kept rolling, carried by the momentum of my kick. Lifting my other foot as I went, I slammed the heel of my boot between her hip a
nd ribs, then kept on rolling.

  She fell to the side, losing her sword as her wrist bent at an unnatural angle, making a cracking sound that wrenched a scream out of her throat.

  As she hit the ground, I straddled her, placing the sharp end of my blade to her throat and applying enough pressure that a line of blood cut across the column of her windpipe.

  Holding as still as a trapped mouse, she stared into my eyes. There was a plea there, an appeal for her life. She had fought to kill, it seemed. Her offer to lose might have been nothing but a trick. Was she that dishonorable? I felt disgusted. No one in this place could be trusted.

  I pressed my blade harder, drawing more blood.

  Loredana slapped a hand against the ground. One, two, three times. She was surrendering, another plea for her life, a more public one. She didn’t think I would let her live. And why should I when she had lied?

  “You disgust me,” I hissed at her, then jumped to my feet and backed away. “I pardon her,” I blurted out.

  Murmurs went around the hall, then the King spoke.

  “Pardon her?” His tone suggested he found the idea ridiculous. “What do you think of that, Timotei?”

  My brother looked up, his eyes red from crying. “I... I think she should live,” he said, his voice so young and tender it sounded out of place in this pit of vipers. He’d seen Loredana’s attempts to kill me and yet his pure heart could think of nothing but mercy. This city didn’t deserve him.

  The Black King smiled and patted Timotei on the head. “My innocent pet. What fun would that be?”

  Loredana let out a whimper.

  “Kill her,” the King ordered, flicking a hand dismissively toward the fallen Pawn.

  “But I wish to pardon her,” I said, eliciting a gasp from those sitting in the galleries.

  “And I’m supposed to care about your wishes?” he asked with amusement. “Kill her or...”

  He seemed to search his mind for an idea. His red eyes drifted lazily toward Timotei who was hugging his legs tightly, rocking back and forth. His eyes were closed, squeezed shut as if there was nothing more in this world he wished to see.

  “...or,” the King said, coming to a decision, “Timotei has to do it.”

  My brother’s eyes sprang open. They stared right into mine, practically screaming, providing a silent voice of denial and horror.

  Sweat trickled down my back. My fingers twitched around the hilt of my sword. Fully aware of the King’s black heart, I had no doubt he would force Timotei to kill. And if my brother refused, Maximus would threaten my life. Faced with that decision, Timotei would choose to save me, then his already terrifying life would become much worse than it already was.

  I turned to Loredana. She was still laying on her back. A line of tears cut a path from the corner of her right eye to her ear. She gave me a nod, and there were resignation and forgiveness in her eyes.

  I’d tried to pardon her, even though she’d done her best to kill me. If I came for her once more, she understood it wasn’t my fault.

  Very slowly, she rose to her knees, lifted her chin.

  I was still several paces away from her, but I lifted my sword and tried to think of the best way to give her a swift death. I didn’t glance in Timotei’s direction, but I hoped his eyes were shut. I hoped he didn’t have to see me kill this defenseless woman. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. Did she have any family? I didn’t know.

  I aimed for her heart, tightened my grip around the hilt of my sword.

  Loredana rolled, picking up her sword as she did. I backed away, weapon at the ready. She would put up a fight, and maybe if I killed her in self-defense, it would be somewhat easier.

  Except, she didn’t fight me. Instead, she flipped the sword, pressed its tip to the base of her chest and fell on it, impaling herself.

  And through these horrible events is how I became First Pawn of the Black Court.

  CHAPTER 21

  I was now First Pawn and still had no idea how to get my brother out of this hellhole. As Fourth Pawn, I had fear of constantly being challenged by newcomers, but now I felt secure in my rank.

  Loredana had held the position for nearly a decade. I didn’t plan to stay here that long, but at least I didn’t have to worry as much, and I could focus on finding a way to rescue my brother.

  A couple of weeks had passed since my challenge against Loredana. I hadn’t expected the way the other Board members treated me to change, but it had. Their harassment stopped, no more scorpions in my bed or pebbles in my boots, which was a relief.

  But there was something else that hadn’t been there before.

  True fear.

  They had no doubt now that I was a favorite of the King, which didn’t bode well for any of them. What they didn’t realize was that it didn’t bode well for me either.

  I stepped out of my Quadrant’s dormitory, scrubbing my face. I’d had guard duty at the gates until two AM, so I had part of the morning off. I had slept late, a mix of good and bad dreams keeping me in my cot well past breakfast.

  Hoping to find something to eat in the kitchen, I headed toward the servants’ building. As I approached, I noticed Rook Sanda was outside the courtyard, reclining on the tree where Rook Datcu liked to hide his stolen spirits. Past Sanda and into the courtyard, I spotted the other Rook inspecting a burlap sack atop one of the supply wagons.

  I stopped, taking in the two Rooks. Something occurred to me then: a better way to disrupt the King and his Trove suppliers. I hurried back toward the dormitory to retrieve the flask Datcu had given me from where I’d hidden it.

  A moment later, dusting my hands, I gave Sanda a curt nod as I walked into the courtyard to greet Datcu.

  “Good Morning, Rook. Nice day.” I patted him on the back and glanced toward the sky.

  Today would be a clear, sunny day, but snow would start falling soon, and it wouldn’t be long before the city below became one giant white square, a Queen’s Acedrex. Not for the first time, I wondered how King Maximus felt about that.

  Did he fear the Queen? Did he ever worry he might be erased, that Queen Lovina or one of his own Board members might put an end to his evil existence and take his place one day?

  Datcu huffed, glancing unhappily toward Sanda.

  He inspected another sack, gave Sanda another nasty glance.

  “How long have you been a Rook?” I asked, sounding casual.

  “Twenty-five years,” he answered with a measure of pride as his meaty hand rooted through yet another sack, one full of eggplants. He dismissed the purple vegetables with a grunt and moved on.

  “That’s quite a long time,” I said, trying to sound appropriately impressed in an effort to stroke his ego. “Longer than Sanda, I presume?”

  “Indeed,” he said, dusting the lapel of his jacket, which had picked up dust as he leaned over the many sacks. “Five years longer.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, giving him an admiring look as he moved to inspect the boxes of wine and spirits. “It can’t be easy staying on top for that long. And, to be honest,” I leaned closer, lowering my voice, “I don’t understand how Sanda earned that rank. He’s already scared of me, I’ll have you know.”

  Datcu scratched his head, narrowing his eyes at me. His sun-weathered face scrunched up slightly in an expression of worry.

  “So much,” I went on, “that he thinks he should take his chances and challenge Knight Arcos before you do.” Arcos was the leader of Datcu’s Quadrant and considered the weaker of the two Knights.

  I paused, letting the implications sink in.

  Datcu stopped what he was doing and turned to give me his full attention. “What makes you think that?”

  I shrugged. “I overheard him talking to Serban. That’s the Third Pawn in my Quadrant.”

  “I know who Serban is,” he growled.

  I ignored him and continued. “Sanda says Arcos is the weakest of the two Knights, says he plans to take his place, so he doesn’t have to
fight me when I finally go for the Rook post. Except... I don’t want that to happen. I hate Sanda, and I want to kill him sooner rather than later.”

  A bit of truth should always be served with a lie. I’d learned that on the streets when Sentries were on to me for something I’d stolen. Everyone knew I hated Sanda. He was the one who had taken my father and brother from me.

  Datcu remained quiet. Did he understand the rippling effect of what I was suggesting? He always seemed so dimwitted. I pressed on.

  “Can you imagine Sanda leading your Quadrant?” I asked.

  This seemed to get through to him, and he barked out a laugh to show how ridiculous he found the idea.

  “Sanda is not clever enough to take on Knight Arcos... or Traian. Besides, it’s not his turn.”

  “Turn?” I said. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. There are no turns.” I laughed callously.

  A muscle in Datcu’s jaw twitched as his eyes shot daggers at me.

  There was no official clause in the contract that stated challenges should take place based on seniority. Yet, it seemed to be an unspoken rule among all the members of the Board, and another one of the reasons why they hated me so much.

  Datcu glanced toward Sanda once more, his red-tinted eyes lingering this time.

  “Mind if I take this?” I asked, picking an apple out of a wooden box. “I didn’t have breakfast. Though it’s almost time for lunch.”

  He ignored me.

  Satisfied with my work, I patted the Rook’s shoulder and plastered a big smile on my face. I winked, gesturing toward the boxes of wine and spirits, then headed out of the courtyard.

  “Good luck with that,” I called over my shoulder, still smiling.

  Datcu leered, certainly worried Sanda might figure out his clandestine dealings from my comment.

  Sanda—who had been watching our exchange—joined me as I left, his pace matching mine. He accompanied me quietly into the dining hall. It was early for lunch and no one else was there.