“It was an accident in which both of them died.” I grind my teeth. “It’s over. It’s in the past.”
He releases a sigh. “Tell that to my daughter who locked herself in her room for days since she remembered the accident.”
I stand up slowly. “She remembers?”
“Yes.”
“Let me talk to her,” I swallow and say the word I never thought I would say. “Please.”
He shakes his head.
“Astrid and I are the same. We both lost our parents that night. I understand her the best.”
“You understand nothing, son. Astrid is locking herself up because she thinks that her mother killed James. She feels guilty towards you. Seeing you is the last thing she needs.”
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, using the desk’s edge as support.
Does this mean I lost her once and for all?
No. I won’t accept that.
“One time,” I ask Lord Clifford again. “Let me see her just one more time.”
“Seeing your face will only remind her of her guilt. It’ll hurt her and I promised that won’t happen anymore.” He pauses. “Besides, it was indirect but you participated in her accident. It’s best if you both go separate ways.”
“I don’t want that,” I grit out.
“You never get what you want. Welcome to life.”
At home, I stand in front of the glass chess board and stare down at the black King piece.
Dad always liked playing in black and I picked up the habit since he taught me how to play.
On my way out of Lord Clifford’s house, I stood outside, looking at all the windows, hoping Astrid would peek out from one of them.
She didn’t.
“I’m so sorry, Father,” I tell the king piece.
I chose the future over the past, but I lost both of them.
“Look who’s graced us with his presence.”
My shoulders droop as Uncle sits on the white King’s side. He must’ve just returned from an all-nighter in the office. Or two nights judging from his unshaven face and his missing tie and jacket.
“Care for a game?” he asks.
I sit down and re-arrange Aiden’s last game against himself.
Uncle reaches behind him and pours us two glasses of cognac.
I raise an eyebrow when he offers me one. “What did I do to receive a drink from Jonathan King himself?”
He clincks my glass. “You were born a King.”
“I’m more of a vodka person myself, but well…”
He narrows his eyes. “Now I know where all those bottles disappeared to.”
I lift my shoulder and take my first swig. The bitter taste leaves a burn at the back of my throat. Placing my drink on the side, I push my first pawn forward, mimicking Uncle’s first move. It’s good to receive the news of my fall to hell while playing chess.
“I had a call from the deputy commissioner.”
Here we go.
“I’m guessing it’s not because I beat his son to pulp?”
“You did that?” He narrows his eyes on me, twirling his drink. “What did I say about violence?”
“It doesn’t solve anything.” I grin. “But it sure answers questions.”
He shakes his head. “You’re so much like James, it’s uncanny.”
“My father wasn’t a violent man.” After a few moves of my pawns, I push my knight forward.
“Sure was when he was a punk your age.”
Huh. Maybe Father and I are more alike than I thought.
“Did you hate him for that?” I ask.
“James was my oldest brother and only sibling. I never hated him.”
“But you were always breathing down his back.”
“Because he was slowly committing suicide with all those drugs and parties and whatnot.”
“Let me guess, you’ve been keeping me on a leash so I don’t grow up to be like him.”
“Of course.” He swallows my knight in a full dick move. “What do you think it was?”
“Anyone ever told you that you have a shitty way of showing your care?”
He shrugs and takes a drink of his cognac. “I do what it takes to protect my family.”
“By being a dictator?”
“The methods don’t matter. The results do.”
I scoff. Some things never change.
While he’s drinking, I notice an opening and use my queen to kill his bishop.
He raises an eyebrow, probably since I left my king unprotected. It doesn’t matter. My rook is in place and if he makes a move, his queen will be unprotected.
“You made a mess,” he says and something tells me it’s not about the game.
“I’m ready for the consequences.”
“You know.” He chuckles with nostalgia. “I could never beat James in chess. It drove me insane.”
“No way. You actually lose.”
“I actually lose.” He brings the drink to his mouth then stops. “I was the nerd in the family while James was the popular one. He got all the attention, all the stardom and all the girls. And yet, he kept beating me at chess which was supposed to be my speciality. One day, I asked him how he does it, and then he said, You’re too uptight, little brother. Don’t play the game...”
“Play the player,” I finish for him.
He nods. “I understand the full meaning behind his words now. I shouldn’t have controlled you. It was an epic failure and I lost my holiday home because of it.”
I go to attack his queen then stop. “Sorry?”
He scoffs. “We both know you don’t mean that.”
“I would if you drop the entire case against Lord Clifford’s ex-wife.”
“There’s no case to drop. Both Clifford and I buried the accident for a reason. He didn’t want his ex-wife’s name in the press and I didn’t want the press to broadcast that my brother was drunk and high at the time of his death.” He points his glass at me. “Clifford and I agreed to make each other’s lives hell since then, though. I’m winning, by the way.”
“Of course you are. You always win, Uncle.”
“Not always, punk. No matter what I did, I lost my brother.” He pushes me back using his rook. “I won’t lose you either.”
I hesitate before clutching my bishop. If this is a tactic to make me doubt my next move, then it’s fucking working.
“You want to play professionally? You have it.”
“I… do?”
“On one condition.”
I eat his queen and grin. “Ha. I’m listening.”
“Checkmate, punk.” He grins back. “Sacrificing the queen for the king is a pleasure.”
No. It’s not.
I stare at my king surrounded by Uncle’s rook and knight.
The bastard couldn’t protect himself or his queen and now their entire kingdom is all fucking over before it properly started.
I shake my head, focusing back on Uncle. “You’ll really let me play professionally or was that a ploy?”
“Both.” He smiles. “Here’s what you have to do in return.”