Page 29 of Immortal Game

Shea suppressed a violent flash of annoyance. She hardly saw how this washerfault. As far as she knew, the only people she’d provoked since her arrival were Ciara herself, Lily, and Daniil. He’d already submitted his humble request that Shea—what was it again?—take what remained of her dignity and go home. And while threats weren’t above him, dark magic seemed beyond the scope of even his malice.

At any rate, she had more pressing concerns than bickering with Ciara about this. Someone had been in her room. Someone had taken the time to do this. It wasviolating. She pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the headache throbbing in her temples. She needed to think. She needed time—and better yet, space. But right now, Ciara’s hand bound to hers felt almost like an anchor.

“You called that sorcery.” Shea waved a hand at the chessboard. “How is that different from any other faerie magic?”

“All fae can perform enchantments. Most of us also possess innate, unique abilities—say, the ability to cure illness. Sorcerydraws on a different source entirely. It is dangerous and volatile and far more powerful than the average spell. That is why it’s typically only used in warfare or vengeance.”

“Or intimidation tactics, apparently.” Shea crossed her arms. “I’d say the competition considers me a threat, but I only won last night on a technicality.”

“I very much doubt it was one of the competitors. There are few sorcerers in Tír nAill. It’s something of a lost art among our people. I have not heard of a new one since…” Ciara shook her head. “Well, never mind. She is dead now. Needless to say, none of our colleagues has mastered the art of sorcery.”

“But if they’re not competing, why target me at all?”

Ciara looked troubled. “I suppose a competitor could have solicited the help of a sorcerer…”

“If that’s the case, whoever it is isn’t confident in their skill. It’s a little pathetic.”

Ciara arched a brow. “You are remarkably calm about all this. You’re not frightened?”

“Not really.” Even if she was, what did it matter? Dropping out wasn’t an option, and saboteurs changed nothing about her plan. No matter what they tried to do to her, no matter what violence they threatened, she would play. “If ruining a chess set is the worst they can do to me, it doesn’t seem that bad.”

Ciara gave her a look that said,You’re too stupid to live.“If you were wise, you would not stay here tonight.”

“And where am I supposed to go?”

Ciara considered it. Sounding very martyred, she replied, “I suppose you could stay with me.”

“I’d rather not.”

Ciara’s hair flew upward, like a flame suddenly stoked tolife, and her face flushed pink. For a moment, Shea thought she’d lose her temper again. But Ciara rearranged her face into a pleasant, if forced, smile. It twitched at one corner.

“We do need to prepare for the next round together.” Ciara paused, then held up their joined hands. “And until I find a way around this, we are quite literally stuck together.”

Shea glowered. “When did you get so gallant?”

“I havealwaysbeen gallant. And,” she added, jabbing a finger at Shea, “I will have you know that I possess something called decency. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

“Right.” Suspicion pricked at Shea again. Maybe Ciara didn’t hate her, but she didn’t like her, either. And yet, she’d gone out of her way to help Shea several times now with no clear or immediate personal gain. Until now, anyway. Presumably, Ciara needed Shea alive to play in the team round. Throwing up one last, feeble defense, she said, “Didn’t you say we’re under Midir’s protection? Would this sorcerer really risk his retaliation?”

“He would have to catch them first. Besides, there are worse things someone can do than kill you.”

The truth of that chilled her enough to comply. “Fine. One night. In the morning, we’ll make a training plan and move on with our lives.”

Ciara brightened. “There. Now was that so difficult?”

Shea did not dignify that with a response.

Whatever Shea expected a faerie princess’s bedroom to look like, it was not this.

Ciara’s things wereeverywhere. Books were piled on her deskand stacked into precarious towers throughout the room; others were splayed open on her bed. Her closet seemed to have vomited its contents across the floor. How many white blouses and ridiculously patterned cloaks did one faerie princess need? Strangest of all was Ciara’s collection of mortal knickknacks: band T-shirts, collectible plastic figurines, a keyboard. There was even a pretty electric guitar propped up in the corner. The logo on the headstock saidGRETSCHin shimmery gold letters.

“Admiring the White Falcon, are you?” In a tone that suggested Shea should be very impressed, she added, “It is the Cadillac of electric guitars.”

“Do you even know what a Cadillac is?”

With some uncertainty, Ciara replied, “Something expensive. In any case, welcome!”

Ciara kicked a pile of clothes out of the way as she led them inside. Something that resembled a magnetic chip clip went sailing through the air and crashed against a wall. Shea stumbled after Ciara as she rummaged one-handed through the wreckage of her things, muttering to herself all the while. At last, she seemed to find what she was looking for: a letter opener with a jeweled handle. She brandished it triumphantly.