"They
might not appreciate my understanding of a game of war. Fancy a round?"
Shame mingled with frustrated rage,
that old insufficiency, until red dotted his vision. He could not read, he
could not write, and he certainly could not play courtly games.
"I know not how," he said
tightly.
All guile lifted from her expression.
"Then I shall teach you. I'll be grateful for an occupation, now that I've
come free of my other... pursuits."
"Is that what you call it? Like
recreation?"
An invisible pressure bowed her
shoulders, the posture of defeat and submission. She closed her eyes and let
her chin drop to her chest "It was medicinal, initially."
"Your feet."
She blanched "I forgot you knew.
These few days—forgive me if I cannot remember much beyond disliking
you."
"Tell me."
He thought she would deny him. A
flicker of that reflexive defiance tightened around her mouth. Then she sighed.
'was detained for a minor crime. Because he thought I could fabricate emeralds
and gold, the sheriff tortured me."
Her voice caught.
Gavriel curled his fingers into fists.
"But why? What he asked of you is impossible."
"Not for my sister." A wan
smile tugged at her lips, and quiet pride shaded her words.
"Unabruja?"
"A witch? No. Merely an alchemist,
like my father was." All emotion disappeared. She narrated events as if
they inhabited someone else's past. "It was a case of mistaken identity,
I'm afraid. The sheriff enjoyed the sport of hurting me. Afterward, my feet
became putrid and I turned to opium to ease the pain. I've not had idle time
without it in... in more than a year."
"Has it been so long since your
life was different?"
"And let that be a lesson to me, I
suppose?"
Rubbing a hand over the back of his
skull, he concentrated on the spiky bristles of his cropped hair. "I said
no such thing."
Ada pushed the fat plait over her
shoulder and looked around the room. "How long have we been here?"
"Five days, in total," he
said, although that seemed paltry. A year would have done justice to the
fatigue he felt
"And how long will we stay?"
"Until you're well enough to
travel. Perhaps on the morrow."
She nodded to the board and its
opposing wooden armies. "Then let me teach you chess."
"I should not"
The days-long temptation of
Ada—knowing her, being with her—returned with more force than
before. She was no needful harlot, just another wounded soul. But smart, too.
Her intelligence made him all the more aware of his own barbarous upbringing.
"What's the harm, Gavriel?"
Her smile returned, revealing the dimple on her left cheek. "You've sworn
not to use your skill or your sword. Use your mind instead."
He wanted to argue, that old response.
No mind. No soul. Only a conscience so very aware of his deficiencies. But they
had ages until dawn, and he was suddenly curious. Anything to withstand another
handful of hours trapped with Ada and her clear, keen eyes.
The protests faded as he examined the
piece he held. "She is the queen?"
"Yes," she said, setting the
queen alongside her dark countrymen. "One of the least powerful pieces on
the board."
He raised his brows. "Least
powerful? Whoever invented this game had no notion of women."
"Perhaps that will change one
day," she said with a laugh. The light, carefree sound and that
frustrating little dimple had him thinking of far more than chess. Dark and
dangerous urges, willing him to be reckless. But he shut out the sound, the
thought, the temptation, and focused on where her finger pointed next.
"Now, this is the king..."
Ada chewed a fingernail as Gavriel
moved his rook. She had seen her fate coming for three moves, but he must have
been planning this final blow well before that.
"Check mate," he said.
"And you're being honest with
me?" She tipped over her king, resigning the round. "You've never
played before?"
The severity of his taut lips
softened—not a smile, but something akin to it. "Not once."
"I suspected you had a mind for
strategy, but this ... this is
might not appreciate my understanding of a game of war. Fancy a round?"
Shame mingled with frustrated rage,
that old insufficiency, until red dotted his vision. He could not read, he
could not write, and he certainly could not play courtly games.
"I know not how," he said
tightly.
All guile lifted from her expression.
"Then I shall teach you. I'll be grateful for an occupation, now that I've
come free of my other... pursuits."
"Is that what you call it? Like
recreation?"
An invisible pressure bowed her
shoulders, the posture of defeat and submission. She closed her eyes and let
her chin drop to her chest "It was medicinal, initially."
"Your feet."
She blanched "I forgot you knew.
These few days—forgive me if I cannot remember much beyond disliking
you."
"Tell me."
He thought she would deny him. A
flicker of that reflexive defiance tightened around her mouth. Then she sighed.
'was detained for a minor crime. Because he thought I could fabricate emeralds
and gold, the sheriff tortured me."
Her voice caught.
Gavriel curled his fingers into fists.
"But why? What he asked of you is impossible."
"Not for my sister." A wan
smile tugged at her lips, and quiet pride shaded her words.
"Unabruja?"
"A witch? No. Merely an alchemist,
like my father was." All emotion disappeared. She narrated events as if
they inhabited someone else's past. "It was a case of mistaken identity,
I'm afraid. The sheriff enjoyed the sport of hurting me. Afterward, my feet
became putrid and I turned to opium to ease the pain. I've not had idle time
without it in... in more than a year."
"Has it been so long since your
life was different?"
"And let that be a lesson to me, I
suppose?"
Rubbing a hand over the back of his
skull, he concentrated on the spiky bristles of his cropped hair. "I said
no such thing."
Ada pushed the fat plait over her
shoulder and looked around the room. "How long have we been here?"
"Five days, in total," he
said, although that seemed paltry. A year would have done justice to the
fatigue he felt
"And how long will we stay?"
"Until you're well enough to
travel. Perhaps on the morrow."
She nodded to the board and its
opposing wooden armies. "Then let me teach you chess."
"I should not"
The days-long temptation of
Ada—knowing her, being with her—returned with more force than
before. She was no needful harlot, just another wounded soul. But smart, too.
Her intelligence made him all the more aware of his own barbarous upbringing.
"What's the harm, Gavriel?"
Her smile returned, revealing the dimple on her left cheek. "You've sworn
not to use your skill or your sword. Use your mind instead."
He wanted to argue, that old response.
No mind. No soul. Only a conscience so very aware of his deficiencies. But they
had ages until dawn, and he was suddenly curious. Anything to withstand another
handful of hours trapped with Ada and her clear, keen eyes.
The protests faded as he examined the
piece he held. "She is the queen?"
"Yes," she said, setting the
queen alongside her dark countrymen. "One of the least powerful pieces on
the board."
He raised his brows. "Least
powerful? Whoever invented this game had no notion of women."
"Perhaps that will change one
day," she said with a laugh. The light, carefree sound and that
frustrating little dimple had him thinking of far more than chess. Dark and
dangerous urges, willing him to be reckless. But he shut out the sound, the
thought, the temptation, and focused on where her finger pointed next.
"Now, this is the king..."
Ada chewed a fingernail as Gavriel
moved his rook. She had seen her fate coming for three moves, but he must have
been planning this final blow well before that.
"Check mate," he said.
"And you're being honest with
me?" She tipped over her king, resigning the round. "You've never
played before?"
The severity of his taut lips
softened—not a smile, but something akin to it. "Not once."
"I suspected you had a mind for
strategy, but this ... this is
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