Page 32 of Immortal Game

Judging by the position of the sun, it had to be at least teno’clock. Shea refrained from comment. “There are only four days until the next round. At the very least, I want to narrow down our opening repertoire today.”

Ciara, evidently resigned to her fate, sighed. “That sounds reasonable.”

“If we prep for eight hours a day, we should be fine,” Shea continued. “Any objections?”

“Several, but none that would sway you,” Ciara muttered. “I will submit to your whims.”

“Good,” Shea replied. “Now, your chess set.”

Ciara led her onto the balcony, where a chessboard stood beneath a trellis of flowering jasmine. All the pieces glittered with inlaid gemstones, and a pearl rested atop each king’s and queen’s crown like a fat raindrop on a leaf. Absently, Shea picked up the white queen and turned it through her hands. It comforted her: the perfect, balanced weight of it; the tiny, carved ridges pressing into the pads of her fingers; all that chambered power, like a loaded gun in her hands. Beann trotted outside, then settled in a patch of sunlight. He stretched out his long limbs with a soft grunt of contentment.

Ciara clapped her hands. “There. Make yourself comfortable. I will join you in a moment, after I make tea for us.”

“I’m good. I don’t really like tea.”

“I see,” Ciara replied, with clear disapproval in her tone. “Then what else can I bring you?”

“I don’t need anything.”

Ciara looked distressed now. “I’m afraid I must insist on offering yousomething. If word got out that I am a terrible host, the bards would have a field day. A well-crafted invectivecan be fatal, you know. Worse, it could leave a blemish on my face.”

“Right.” She’d nearly forgotten about the Irish fae’s obsession with hospitality. “Fine. I’ll have some tea.”

Ciara’s entire face brightened with relief. “You will not be disappointed. It is a divine substance, made all the better by its rarity. I have to smuggle it in.”

Shea suppressed a smile. “You’re a smuggler?”

Ciara winced, as though she hadn’t meant to reveal so much. “Well, what is sharing another secret with you? Things from the mortal world are forbidden in Tír nAill. Some grandmasters supplement their income by selling mortal goods to other fae, who are willing to pay a high price for a taste of mortality. Little chocolate bars are fetching quite a premium right now.”

“Why?”

Ciara gawped at her as though she’d blasphemed. “Have you tried the little chocolates?”

Shea stared back flatly. “I mean, why are things from the mortal realm forbidden?”

“Ah. Midir considers them dangerous.” Ciara frowned. “Many fae remember what it was like before the Iron Veil descended. But now, we are all kept in ignorance about the world beyond it. He believes it best that we do not fully understand what technology mortals have developed—and the threats it poses to us. He insists that limiting contact and limiting curiosity are the best ways to protect ourselves.”

It was obvious Ciara disagreed with him. “Why let you cross at all, then?”

“To maintain your interest in us. We cannot withdraw entirely, as our world is anchored to yours. If you destroyed theelfmounds from the other side, there is no telling what would happen.” Ciara’s expression grew more distant. When she spoke again, it was as though she was reciting a memorized line. “As a grandmaster, I am fortunate to have the privilege to travel. I must work hard to keep it. Ah, but I’ve forgotten your tea.”

Ciara gave Shea no chance to reply before she withdrew.

Strange, Shea thought. But there was no use puzzling over Ciara’s behavior, and she might as well get a head start on prep. She sat at the board and began playing through her own game from the first round. The first ten moves trod well-known, by-the-book theory. On move fifteen, as the pawn structure changed, the board opened up, and Shea’s awareness of the world fell away.

She envisioned herself in a dark wood, surrounded on all sides by forks in the trail. All of them led to another clearing with another hundred paths, each of them branching infinitely. It’d been a while since she analyzed a game without an engine. It took all of her focus as she played through the most promising options at every juncture. Looking at her position and all its imperfections made her feel queasy with stress and self-loathing. Where, exactly, had she gone so wrong?

“Did you hear me?”

Shea jolted with surprise at the sound of Ciara’s voice. The interruption made her blood boil, and she had half a mind to throw one of the diamond-encrusted pawns in her direction. “No.”

Ciara leaned in the doorway, carrying an electric kettle in one hand and two delicate cups in the other. Three cheap tea bags floated in the water, slowly staining it a rich heartwood red. “I said I brought tea.”

Shea’s confusion chased away her irritation. “You have electricity?”

“Of course not.” Ciara tapped on the glass face of the kettle, and the water within began to boil. “It is called fashion.”

“My mistake,” Shea replied dryly.