Page 20 of Immortal Game

Shea awoke in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. The bright wash of late morning sunlight only heightened her disorientation. Wherewasshe? When she shot upright and found the wooden fetter staring back at her, reality crashed down over her. Right. This was her room now. She was in the Otherworld.

And last night, she’d watched someone die.

She couldn’t banish the memory. She thought of chess pieces lying in a pool of blood. She thought of roots burrowing into her veins and twining into her bones. One wrong move, and she’d be ripped apart from the inside out, just like him. Her stomach threatened to turn again.

Enough, she scolded herself.Move on.What good would it do to dwell on it? Someone else would mourn him. All that mattered was the next round. All that mattered was getting one step closer to Aideen.

She dragged herself out of bed and got ready for the day. In front of a wooden vanity, she scraped her hair back with gel. After a moment’s consideration, she left last night’s earrings in:teardrops of jet. They caught the light like the edge of a knife and reminded her of dark, too-canny eyes.

“Good morning.”

Shea swore in surprise. She turned to find Ciara perched on the windowsill, as languid as a sunning cat. The window hung just slightly ajar, as if it’d been nudged open by a gentle breeze. Had Shea left the latch undone? Not that it should’ve mattered, really, considering it was a fifty-foot drop to the ground below. So how the hell had Ciara gotten there?

“I understand I am a sight to behold,” said Ciara, “but you’re staring.”

At that, Shea remembered that maybe she ought to be offended or outraged. Ciara had, after all, broken into her room. “What are you doing here?”

“Straight to hostility, I see.” Ciara slid off the windowsill and stalked forward. “Far be it from me to expect anything resembling warmth from you, but you cannot even be bothered with pleasantries?”

Shea smiled coldly. “Maybe when you give me a reason to be pleasant.”

“Impossible. I’m quite certain that there is no pleasing you. Oh, but these are nice.”

Ciara reached out to touch one of her pendant earrings, and the backs of her bejeweled knuckles just barely grazed Shea’s cheek. Even after Ciara withdrew her hand, the scent of her perfume lingered: hyacinth and honey. Shea’s skin prickled with the memory of her almost-touch. She realized, a moment too late, that she’d stopped breathing.

Clearly, Ciara had noticed. Her eyes twinkled with thesame amused fascination as when she’d complimented Shea’s haircut. It made sense now. This was some kind of tactic—or worse, a joke. Of course a player as dangerous as Ciara would exploit any weakness she could find. Shea bristled all over with resentment and humiliation.

“Tell me what you want,” said Shea, “or get out.”

“I? WhatIwant!” Ciara touched a hand to her collarbone, the very picture of indignation. “To be accused of selfish motives. To be ordered about in my own home. You wrong me, Shea. I will have you know that I came to fill you in on what you missed, since you ran off in such a great hurry last night.”

Shea shot her a repressive look. “I kind of needed some air.”

“Yes, I suppose your game was rather explosive.”

“Real nice,” Shea said dryly. Family wasn’t exactly high on her list of values, but the joke felt in poor taste, even by her low standards. “Wasn’t he your cousin or something?”

Ciara shrugged. “I never liked him much. Nor any of the others.”

Shea considered ignoring her, but curiosity got the best of her. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Oh, hundreds, I’m certain.”

“Hundreds?”

Ciara raised an eyebrow. “Between consorts and spouses and hapless mortals over thousands of years, one accumulates quite a number of cousins. How many doyouhave?”

“Zero.” Shea couldn’t fathom a family of that size. “I take it you’re the youngest.”

“Indeed I am.” Ciara preened. “There are almost fifteen hundred years between Midir and me. In truth, nobody wasexpecting my father to sire another child. He was quite old, even by the fae’s standards. My birth caused some alarm, considering he was preparing to choose his successor from among his many descendants. They needn’t have worried. Midir was always the clear choice.”

Ciara sounded so bitter every time she mentioned Midir. Shea and Aideen had had their arguments, but she couldn’t imagine resenting her. As innocently as she could, she asked, “Are you close? You and Midir?”

“Midir provides for Tír nAill’s grandmasters as befits their station.” Ciara made a little moue of displeasure. “We play chess together from time to time.”

That was a resoundingno, and it confirmed what Shea suspected. If Midir really cared for Ciara, why would she have to compete for his boon? Ciara’s sudden and uncharacteristic reticence felt like a well-timed defensive move: solid and, for now, unassailable. Still, it felt good to have her on the back foot for once. “Have you ever beaten him?”

“No.” Ciara looked troubled but barreled onward. “At any rate, it was unfortunate, the whole business with my cousin. A rather stupid way to go, if you ask me. Ah, but you have distracted me. I came to tell you about the next round.”