Page 7 of Immortal Game

“Oh!” Kara’s expression brightened. “You’re a gem, Shea. I have to check with my HVAC guy.”

“Just let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” Kara hesitated. “As soon as I finish my degree, I won’t have to ask anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really.”

“Okay.” Kara was quiet for a moment, clearly brooding over something. “Someday, you’ll know what it’s like. Your situation can’t last forever, and I don’t know how you’ll handle it with that ego of yours.”

Kara was lashing out, Shea knew. She’d always had a complicated relationship to Shea’s success. On the one hand, she appreciated the money. On the other, it made it difficult to assuage her insecurities by comparison. She couldn’t endure a bruised pride without inflicting a little damage herself. On this point, at least, Kara couldn’t hurt her. Shea was well aware that her career had an expiration date. Most professional chess players retired by the time they were in their mid-thirties. “I know.”

“You should start preparing for it. There’s more to life than playing chess all day.”

Shea smiled coldly. Until she won this tournament, there wasn’t. There hadn’t been for a long time. And once she defeated Midir… Well, best not to consider what lay on the other side of an abyss. “Like what?”

The look Kara gave her was familiar: half pitying, half mocking. Like she couldn’t believe she’d given birth to a child as alien as Shea. “Oh, I don’t know. Friends? Dating? Hobbies?”

“A social life doesn’t fix your heater.”

Kara recoiled. “Real nice. You always have to win, don’t you?”

“Is that what we’re doing right now?” Shea asked lowly. “Competing?”

“You don’t know how lucky you are. I’ve done nothing but support you. You have so many opportunities—so muchfreedom—that I never had, all because of the sacrifices I had to make. You’re wasting them.”

The last of her meager patience snapped. “And what support was that? I’m having a hard time remembering.”

It was always Aideen making sure Shea got to her coaching sessions. Aideen listening to her drone on about rook and king endgames. Aideen driving her to tournaments and taking her out for pizza afterward. A sudden wave of grief nearly bowled Shea over, but she willed her face into blank composure.

“I had a lot to worry about back then, raising two kids in my twenties,” Kara replied. “But I guess that makes me a terrible mother.”

Yeah, maybe it does.Shea bit down on her retort. If she pushed much further, it’d end in total emotional shutdown or a yelling match. She didn’t even know how they’d gotten here. “I played so much so that I would be good enough to get an invitation to Midir’s tournament. And you know what? It worked.”

Kara made a strangled sound of horror. “And you’re going?”

“Yes. I’m going to bring her back.”

In an instant, Kara’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I can’t do this. I can’t open this up again.”

Shea felt like she’d been struck across the face. They never talked about the night Aideen had disappeared. It was too painful to revisit it. She hated to think of herself at thirteen, stammering and sobbing through an explanation to her hysterical mother. She hated to think of how Kara sounded when she said,What have you done? God, what have you done?

Kara blamed her for what happened. She was right to. But finally, Shea had the chance to fix her mistake.

“Fine,” Shea said stiffly. “I get it. I just wanted you to know I’d be gone for a while.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, Kara buried her face in her hands. “There’s no way you’re going to win. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

What could Shea possibly say to that?

“I’ve lost too much, Shea,” she said. “I can’t lose you, too.”

She had no idea what to do with Kara’s motherly concern. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged, or the last time either of them had said the wordsI love youorI’m sorry. The thought made her want to peel off her skin in discomfort. What would it change, anyway? Some things went without saying.

“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “I’m going to take care of it.”

CHAPTER THREE

The days passed in a series of visa applications; vaguely concerning waivers acknowledging the United States government could not guarantee her safety and would make no effort to retrieve her; and brusque phone calls with government officials. Someone from the Department of State had even reached out to wish her luck—and, in between effusing about the value of cultural exchange and dialogue, to insinuate what a boon it would be to America if she managed to win.