Page 35 of Immortal Game

Eventually, she had to concede that Ciara was not as lazy as she’d assumed. She possessed a mind hungrily at work, always churning, always searching, always lingering on the board. Itwas somehow a revelation to Shea. She’d always known, of course, that Ciara was good at chess. She hadn’t known, however, that Ciara was obsessed with it.

Intense focus had made most of her hurt and annoyance recede. Still, it was a welcome reprieve when Ciara informed her that she would be leaving to fetch them dinner. The mention of food made Shea’s stomach growl. For the first time today, she felt the faint pang of hunger—and the flicker of annoyance that came with it. Sometimes, she wished she could be pure mind, free from her physical body and its demands.

Ciara lingered in the doorway. “Do not go wandering off while I’m gone.”

Shea returned the pieces to their home squares, nudging them into the precise center of each one. Some petty impulse took hold of her, and she said, “You can’t trap me in here, you know.”

“Oh, I can, actually,” Ciara replied pleasantly. “If I wanted to, I could ensorcell you to do whatever I liked. I am fae, in case you have forgotten. But that requires a great deal of effort that I would prefer not to expend. Before you do anything spiteful or rash, kindly think of the hardship you’ll put us both through.”

Shea certainly hadn’t forgotten. She smiled blandly. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

Ciara did not look at all reassured. “At any rate, Beann will alert you to any sorcery or malicious enchantments.”

His tail thumped against the floor in acknowledgment.

“We’ll be fine,” Shea groused.

When Ciara had run out of threats and orders to issue, she finally left. Shea remained at the chessboard, but she did nottouch the pieces again. She was sick of chess—and sick of stewing over the conversation from earlier. Ciara just couldn’t leave well enough alone.

Only three more days to get through, she reminded herself.

As the cool night air settled against her skin, she relished the sweet scent of jasmine flowers and the quiet comfort of solitude. She might have fallen asleep right there, had Beann not let out a low growl. The sound raised all the hairs on the back of her neck.

Shea’s eyes fluttered open. Beann sat beside her, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. His ears pricked forward. The tip of his tail quivered. His nose twitched. He’d spotted something out there in the dark. Dread pooled within her. Slowly, Shea made her way to the balcony’s railing. She peered into the courtyard below them and found nothing at all.

“There’s no one there.”

He growled again, low and insistent, then let out a little warningbuff. Sighing, Shea squinted into the dark. This time, she did see something: Daniil, illuminated by the flickering glow of a candle. Where was he going so late? And what business could he possibly have outside the castle grounds, anyway?

“Hey,” she called out to him.

He did not so much as glance up. He moved with grim purpose, pursued by the long, sweeping tails of his coat. The stiffness of his gait and the glassiness of his expression chilled her. She’d seen this before. She dreamt of it sometimes: the horrible emptiness in people’s eyes when they obeyed her sister’s commands.

Daniil was ensorcelled.

You are under Midir’s protection for the duration of your stay,Ciara had told her when she arrived,so long as you remain within the castle grounds.

Someone had sent him to what would likely be his death.

Shea could let it happen. It would be easy enough. It would be one less obstacle on the way to the finals—and would likely halve the antagonism she’d experience over the rest of her life. She couldn’t bring herself to entertain any of those arguments. She didn’t like Daniil, but she didn’t want him dead.

An old instinct stirred to life within her. The one that compelled her to throw punches first and ask questions later. The one that wanted to shield the people around her from danger. She’d never been able to do much for Aideen, but she could save Daniil.

Assuming she could get to him fast enough.

Beann pawed at the glass door leading into Ciara’s room. Hope sparked within her. Maybe Beann could track Daniil, although she had no idea how to ask. Whatever. She’d cross that bridge as soon as they got outside. As soon as she opened the door, he bounded through. He sniffed through the clutter and dug through piles of clothes. Soon enough, he selected his prize: one of Ciara’s cloaks.

Shea could not contain her dismay. “Drop it. We have to go.”

He didn’t listen. Instead he pranced over to her, dragging the cloak across the floor, and placed it delicately on her feet. When she didn’t retrieve it immediately, he nudged her hand with his snout. Bewildered, Shea picked it up. It was made of white silk, with a trim of maroon around the collar. The lining was another exquisite re-creation of moth wings. The fabric was an almost translucent lime green, with embroidered golden eyespots.

Beann slapped her with a massive paw.

“All right, all right.” She slipped the cloak over her shoulders. “Is this what you want?”

Instantaneously, she felt lighter—as though a single step might carry her upward. There must’ve been some kind of enchantment sewn into the cloak, or maybe some of Ciara’s innate magic had worked its way into the seams. Shea had no time to speculate. Beann brushed past her and trotted out onto the balcony. He swiveled his head toward her. His soulful black eyes bored into her. And then, he leapt.

“Wait!”