“You seem friendlier than usual.” She laughs. “Are you drunk?”
“Yes. Somewhat.” Which means, yes, quite drunk. I wrap my fingers around her arm and pull until we breathe the same air. “Do not play games with Kian. He is a danger to you.”
“And you’re not?”
“I cannot say for certain.” The feathers trimming her otherwise plain dress come into focus. I can hardly believe what I see—the downy contour feathers of the órga falcons. My falcons. This gown is made for my future bride. It’s a costume she would wear as she reclines in our apartments, listening to entertainments. It’s refined and beautiful, the particular shade of green perfect for the wasp’s rust-colored locks. Who gave it to her?
I tug her draping sleeve. “Where did you get this?”
“From Raff. Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Raff?” I bark, rivaling my dog, Balor, in ferocity.
Uncertainty flickers in her eyes. “Your High Mage gave it to him saying he would know exactly what to do with it. Your brother thought of me instantly, told me I needed something pretty and comfortable to wear when I’m not working. Wasn’t that nice of him?”
“Nice is not the word I’d use.”
What, by the Five Elements, are Ether and Raff up to? If they mean to insult me, then they have failed miserably. I find myself charmed by the human who stands before me looking fragile in soft blue-green hues, highlighted by the silver and gold of my falcons. How did I ever mistake her for a goblin or a troll?
Her green eyes sparkle with amusement, slowing the beat of my heart, soothing the ache in my chest.
Wine sloshes through my skull as I say, “I have a set of hnefatafl in my rooms. I shall teach you the game, and then you won’t get eaten by Kian.”
“Kian doesn’t like to eat people!”
A smile tugs my lips. “I believe he likes eating human girls a lot more than he enjoys playing board games.”
She laughs. “I’d be very interested to see where someone such as you lives,” she says as if I’m some seven-headed sea monster and she can’t imagine what I use for a pillow. “So, because I’m an extremely nosy person, I’ll accept your offer. But what about Kian, shall I—?”
“No. You shan’t.” I start up the steps and say over my shoulder, “Follow me.”
On the journey to my chambers, she walks at a safe distance beside me while I describe the layout of the upper castle, the gruesome details of the tapestries and paintings glowing in the torchlight and begin to think my sanity has abandoned me. Why else would I want to spend time with the wasp in my room? I don’t need new friends, least of all a human one. The sight of her adorned in the feathers of my falcons has bewitched me.
When we enter my parlor, she gazes around through wide eyes.
I try to imagine how she sees my chambers. The three rooms, where I spend most of my time brooding over the ever-present bite of the poison, are connected by carved archways. Flames from the enormous main fireplace glow along black and silver surfaces, the only colors other than the blood-red of my curtains and carpets.
Through an archway, my bed is visible, overflowing with red silk and gray furs. Books and ancient scrolls detailing the history of the black blood curse lie open on wooden tables, divans, and the window seat through which moonlight pools yet more silver onto the floor.
“The color scheme suits you,” she says, picking her way around discarded armor pieces, jeweled scabbards, and boar spears to the arched window frame twined with rough vine branches that grow from deep within the castle’s magic-bound foundations. “But I’m a little surprised by the mess.”
“I’m a hunter, remember. It comforts me to see the tools of my distraction strewn about me.”
“You’re a fae prince. I hardly think you need comforting.”
She peers through the glass into an indigo night, her furrowed brow reflecting in the dark surface. I’m all too familiar with the sight she sees—the phosphorescent gleam of the waterfalls, the distant black line of the forest. Darkness. Loneliness. Eternity.
I wave my hand once and the curtains close, a second time and every candle in the room bursts into life. “Oh!” she yelps loudly, waking Balor who had been snoring on my bed. He barks as he springs down and gambols over to greet the girl.
“Hi, Balor.” Smiling, she strokes his shaggy head, not needing to bend because of his height.
“Be seated,” I tell her, and stride through an archway into my bedchamber. I clear space around the hnefatafl board on the small table situated near the second fire—right next to my bed.
Balor sits erect looking nervously between the girl and me. “Not you, Balor. You can relax wherever you please. If I were you, I would try the hearth.”
He groans and takes my advice, trotting toward the fire before curling his long legs into the furs spread over the slate.
The girl frowns at my bed. “I didn’t think… I don’t—”
“As you can see, my sleeping chamber and parlor are joined, creating a greater sense of space, and I enjoy the view from my pillows. Here is where the game is already set up. Breathe easy. I have no plans to throw your feeble human body onto my bed furs.”
A deep blush spreads over her cheeks, visible even in the flickering orange light. She clears her throat and takes a seat, reaching across the board for a king’s guard, a pointed piece made out of carved bone. “Good. I’m not in the mood to reject you again, Never. I need more friends and fewer enemies in your city.”
Again? When was this rejection she speaks of? I remember it not. If I’d decided to seduce her, the deed would already be done.
Pouring wine for her and water for myself, I explain the rules. They’re simple but require careful strategy in order to triumph. Pointing at the king in the center of the checkered board surrounded by his protectors, I say, “For our first game, you will defend the king and I will attack.”
“Hang on, why do you get twice as many pieces than me?”
“Don’t worry. The king’s men have the advantage, and I need to get four men around your king to capture him, rather than the usual two required to seize your other pieces.”
“So, to win, all I have to do is get the king to any of the four corners of the board?”
I nod.
“My pieces are light-colored, yours are dark. This will be easy.”
I smile. “The attacker moves first.”
“That’s you,” she says.
“Yes.” The engraved rune buzzing under my fingers, I move my piece and begin the assault.
“So, if my guys can move exactly like the rooks in chess, then I’m going to do this.” She starts boldly and without fear, immediately exposing her first man to easy capture. But if she were experienced, this would be a fine opening.
Now I must choose whether to take her quickly or slowly. It’s a difficult decision.
“Good move,” I say, reaching for my next piece, her clean scent sharpening my addled thoughts. “Your troops are expendable. Sacrifice them and think of ways you can move the king through the fastest route to victory. It’s the only thing that matters in this game.”
Inwardly, I roll my eyes at my words. Kings. Sacrifice. Winning at any cost. This is my Mother’s life, and if she has her way, it will soon be mine.