Queen Bee(9)
Author: Amalie Howard

 

I leaned into her. “What’s ‘castles,’ Lady Zenobia?”

 

“Goodness, only my papa calls me Zenobia.” She slanted a long-suffering glare at her brother. “Did he put you up to that? It’s Zia, just Zia.” She turned her attention back to me. “And this is castles.”

 

She reached out, deftly took my king, and switched it with the rook. I recognized the play now, having seen my mama do it once before. The move was brilliant because it protected me from Keston’s bishop. He was not happy that I’d avoided his cleverly planned attack, and directed an enormous glower at his sister before slamming his knight down in an L-shaped countermove and snatching one of my remaining pawns.

 

“Quit it, brat,” he told her. “You are not playing.”

 

An undaunted Zia grinned from beneath her pretty bronze side-swept spirals, and earned my devotion until the end of time. “Ladies have to stick together.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be pitiably indisposed?” he sniped.

 

“I’ve recovered, Brother.” She eyed him with a sniff and lowered her voice so the chaperones could not hear. “Why are you being so boorish? Ela didn’t do anything. Why can’t you be the normal Keston? The nice one. Nobody likes the future-duke Keston, not even if Papa expects it. He’s not here.”

 

A shadow passed over his face and was gone before I could decipher it. “Be quiet, Zia. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“This act isn’t you.”

 

I stared at the chess pieces, unwilling to look up at what was clearly a private and charged moment. That glower of his was threatening to go into full inferno, and I did not want to be the target of it. Taking a deep breath, I studied the board and then saw an opening I’d missed before, or maybe the path had opened up when he’d stolen my pawn in anger with his knight. Either way, it was a boon. I moved my queen down the board. “Check.”

 

My opponent recoiled in surprise. “What?”

 

“Check,” I repeated calmly. “It means your king is in danger.”

 

“I know what it means,” he said. “I just…”

 

My sarcasm reared its head. “Didn’t expect that a girl like me could actually play?”

 

“No. Yes. It doesn’t matter. You’re still going to lose.” Keston used his second knight to block my attack.

 

“Am I?” I asked, moving my knight to snatch his.

 

His next move was decisive. As if he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, he slammed the piece onto the board with a snap. “Yes. In six moves or less.”

 

“Bring it, Lord Rid-iculous,” I said under my breath. He still heard, and his eyes flashed with outrage as his queen put my king in check.

 

Highly motivated to not lose, I tried to study his face instead of the board, but found that I couldn’t read that, either. And though he beat me as promised, it was in eight moves, not six. I took great comfort in the fact. When he extended his hand over the board, I put my clammy palm in his and shook like they did in tournaments.

 

“Good game,” Zia said, fixing the pieces back into place on the board. She wrinkled her nose. “He usually trounces new people, but you held your own. I’m impressed. My turn.”

 

“Another time, Zia,” Keston said.

 

She lifted mournful eyes on her brother, her lips forming the cutest of pouts. Her eyes leaned toward amber, unlike his darker pair, but held the same intensity. I wondered if I could ever master such an artful expression. I would probably look awful, while Zia’s look could convince a miser to give up his last penny.

 

“One game, please,” she begged.

 

When she drew out the last word, he was no more unaffected than I was. Keston gave his sister a resigned sigh, but something like fondness passed through his gaze. “Very well. If it will cease your insupportable theatrics.”

 

In that moment, I saw a glimpse of the boy I’d met—he doted on his sister, even if he behaved like the biggest boil on the planet to me. So which version of him was the act? The answer wasn’t long in coming, considering Zia had alluded to the reason for his behavior before. The Duke of Harbridge had been hewn from rock. Perhaps he expected his son to be the same.

 

“Who taught you to play?” I asked Zia.

 

“Papa taught Kes, and Kes taught me,” she said. Bright, intelligent eyes met mine as she held up the onyx queen, her fingers drifting over a nick in her crown. “Did you know that in the fifteenth century, the queen was the weakest piece on the board?”

 

I shook my head. “I did not.”

 

Zia nodded. “The first time she moved, she could only move up to two spaces in any direction. And every move following, she could only move on the diagonal, one space at a time. It was only near the turn of the century that she was able to move any way she liked, any number of spaces at a time.” Her grin was wide. “As it should be, don’t you think? Women should be powerful.”

 

Unable to form words, I could only nod. One day, Lady Zenobia Osborn would be a force to be reckoned with. She’d become a queen like her namesake. I glanced to her brother to see what he thought of her chess lesson, but his face held only a proud expression, before he squashed it when he saw me looking.

 

As winner of the last game, he made the first move, and Zia followed. Their movements were so swift, I could barely keep track of the plays. It was some form of rapid chess, unless they were so familiar with each other’s moves that the competition was second nature. I appreciated their skill and decisive ease.

 

“Power is simply a matter of perspective,” Keston said, jarring me out of my focus. “The queen’s duty is to protect her king.”

 

“Because the king is weak,” Zia shot back.

 

Keston lifted a brow. “And yet the game cannot continue without him, while it can without its queen.”

 

She turned to me. “My brother and I have differing opinions on the value of pieces and chess strategy. I think the queen should be bold, while he often holds her back until the last moment like a little old crone.” Zia grinned. “What is your opinion on the matter, Lady Ela?”

 

I opened my mouth as a pair of identical expressions settled on me, the play paused for a few drumming heartbeats. “I suppose I’d rather be bold, though there is value in being cautious at times…recognizing an opponent’s weaknesses and strengths.”

 

I didn’t want to bask in the fleeting admiration I saw in Keston’s eyes, but I let myself anyway. A silly part of me sat up and preened. I’d have to remember to scold myself later.