I needed a place to collect myself outside of the ballroom. Yet again, I’d allowed Jhaeros to get under my skin, as though I’d never grown up from the timid mouse I’d been before leaving home.
I charged through a darkened archway into a tunnel dimly lit with torches. I wrapped my arms around my chest and shivered as I moved along the dank stone corridor. Doors lined the hall, a few closed, and some opened to reveal small rooms. I slowed my steps and peered into one of the open, unoccupied rooms. I saw a bedchamber, followed by a small library, and then a sitting room. The fire that blazed from a tall stone hearth in the sitting room drew me inside and over to its warmth. I stood in front of the fire, facing the flames, and gently lowered my arms, allowing the heat to bathe my exposed skin.
A minute later, I turned and looked over the cozy room with its matching cream chaise lounge, settee, and armchairs with pale gray throw pillows. A thick grayish-blue rug covered most of the stone floor. My eyes lit up when I noticed a campaigne board arranged on a low mahogany table in front of the settee. It was almost as though it had been set up especially for me.
My skirts rustled as I walked over to the table and sat in front of it. I picked up a red shrub carved from bloodwood, caressing the smooth rounded top with my thumb. Dark pieces carved from African blackwood lined the opposite side of the board.
I moved the bloodwood shrub two rows up then picked up a blackwood shrub and made a similar move. I moved another shrub from each side before capturing a bloodwood shrub with a blackwood shrub before taking the offending blackwood shrub with a bloodwood archer. Moving the pieces helped steady my breathing. I made several more moves. On the bloodwood side I moved my second archer, then moved him on the next turn. I picked him up to move him a third time when I heard Jhaeros’s deep voice rumble behind me.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
I turned and glared at him.
“Did you follow me?” I demanded.
Rather than answer my question, Jhaeros strode into the room and seated himself on the settee beside me. Instinctively, my body leaned away and I had to force myself to return upright.
“I’m not in a very social mood,” I informed him coldly.
Again, Jhaeros didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to pick up a blackwood mage and move it diagonally.
My mouth opened to tell him to go away—back to Elohir and the brunette elf who resembled Shalendra. But my mind had already plotted out a half-dozen potential countermoves across the board.
I moved my mage.
Jhaeros leaned forward, legs spreading slightly—his right knee filling the gap between us.
Five moves later, I captured his archer with my mage.
Jhaeros’s frown cut across his cheeks.
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my lips had other ideas when they smirked.
Jhaeros’s shoulders stiffened then relaxed.
“Impressive,” he said, sounding pleased.
“Can’t say the same for you,” I answered tartly.
After all the years he’d disregarded me, I couldn’t resist rubbing in my superior campaigne strategy, especially knowing what great pride he took in his supposed mastery of the game.
Tonight, he’d met his match, and I’d tolerate his company if only for the satisfaction of beating him. That delicious thought brought another smile to my lips.
Jhaeros reached for his far left shrub, nearly closing his elegant fingers around the piece before pausing just above the rounded top. He drew his hand away and leaned back, looking sideways at me.
“Before we continue, allow me to introduce myself. I am Jhaeros Keasandoral from Pinemist.”
Sky Mother above, he was so damn formal. I inclined my head in acknowledgment, quickly returning my attention to the board. I could feel him staring at me expectantly.
“Lady Thezlina,” I offered in a regal tone.
Jhaeros’s knee inched closer to mine. “Is that your real name?”
“Clearly.” With a snort, I lifted my right hand and waved my fingers at my mask.
“Where do you live?” Jhaeros pressed.
“Why do you want to know?”
“What if I would like to call on you after the ball?”
My heart lurched. How much scotch had he imbibed? Clearly too much.
I sniffed dismissively. “You have about as much chance of that as winning this game.”
Jhaeros’s eyebrows rose in challenge.
“If I win, will you tell me your name?”
“What do I get if I win?” More like when I won, but he wouldn’t believe it until he saw me beat him with his own deep brown eyes.
“What do you want?” Jhaeros asked.
“To be left alone.”
Jhaeros frowned. “Have I offended you in some way?”
If only he knew.
“I told you I wasn’t in a social mood.”
“You seemed perfectly social with the bartender,” Jhaeros said.
“And you looked perfectly diverted with that brunette elf in the purple gown,” I returned. “Why not return to the ballroom, introduce yourself, and invite her to dance?”
Jhaeros scowled. “I don’t like dancing, and she reminded me of someone.”
His heated stare flared over my arms like warmth from the fire. As he continued to stare, my heart did little flips and twists worrying the mask would not be enough and that I’d remind him of someone too.
I cleared my throat. “Your move.”
His leg inched a little closer to mine.
I trained my gaze on the table in front of us. I could feel Jhaeros watching me rather than the board. Finally, he marched one of his shrubs forward on the board.
We went back and forth in silence. When Jhaeros set his archer after my mage, I retreated, not willing to give up the piece.
Jhaeros was the first to move his queen. I studied my pieces, considering all the possible ways to bait him. He’d weakened his king side, so I decided to attack him where he was most vulnerable.
Even though I’d put him on the defense, he continued to spend as much time staring at me as the board. A big mistake.
While Jhaeros tried to march his shrubs down my throat, I moved my archer to his king side. We moved pieces around, evading capture as the game progressed. I ended up with space in front of my king, which wasn’t a typical maneuver, but I felt confident about my attacking abilities.
Jhaeros attacked my archer, leaving me an opening to attack his queen, which he promptly moved back on his next turn.
With the end-game in mind, we moved back and forth, trading pieces, trading mages, trading queens—moving our kings to the center. I found a great outpost for my archer, set up defenders, and continued moving my king to the center.
Jhaeros sucked in through his teeth.
Beneath my mask, my lips puffed out smugly.
“Who taught you how to play?” he asked gruffly.
“Self-taught,” I announced, lifting my chest.
“You’re very good,” Jhaeros said grudgingly.
“The best,” I corrected.
A thrill went through me, a desire to put him in his place, rub my superiority in his arrogant elfin face. It was very unlike me. I’d never been one to taunt another creature or behave so vainly, but Jhaeros brought out a wicked side of me I’d never known I possessed.
Jhaeros pulled his leg away from mine. His long fingers spread over his thighs, and he gripped them as though to keep from strangling me.