Page 90 of Immortal Game

“All right,” Shea said, a little breathlessly. “And what do I get in return?”

Just like that, the illusion shattered. Ciara gave her a withering glare. “Must you always spoil my fun?”

Shea laughed, brighter and more truly than she had in years. She closed the gap between them and kissed her. The last time had been harsh, almost punishing. This time, Shea intended to savor her. With every brush of their lips, they poured forth all their feelings, their longing, their hopes.

For so long as we are happy.That could be a long, long time, or it could be nothing but a flash. Either way, it would never be enough time. Shea had to make it count. What she lacked in experience, she would make up for in dedication. After all, she’d already spent so much of her life studying how to make Ciara of Bri Leith unravel over the board. And as she drew a soft sigh of pleasure from Ciara’s lips, Shea thought that she could enjoy this sort of unraveling even more.

CHAPTER THIRTY

It could’ve been hours or days that passed. Time in the Otherworld passed strangely, after all. The sky had darkened, and the reflection of the moon scattered across the lake in a band of glittering white. The two of them lay across the benches, their heads side by side. Sweat cooled on their skin. Their breaths came slow and easy now. The boat rocked and swayed beneath them. Ciara turned so that her nose rested against Shea’s temple.

“When you win, what will you ask for?”

Shea absently traced her cheekbone. “I don’t know. You and Daniil are both counting on me.”

“No. What doyouwant?”

This, she wanted to say.You.

There was nothing Midir could give her that she wanted. She wanted lazy evenings at Ciara’s side. She wanted to play chess without fear. Maybe she wanted freedom, too. Freedom from all of the guilt and expectations she’d placed on herself. The freedom to find out who she was. She couldn’t have any of that unless she won. “It would be good enough to defeat him. But I don’t know if I can.”

Ciara took hold of her wrist. She held on until Shea met her eyes. “I do.”

Shea smiled. It was sweet, how easily she offered Shea her confidence. Shea couldn’t share in it. There wasn’t a player alive capable of matching him. Even Fuamnach’s only solution was sorcery. Shea sat upright as the memory came back to her. Fuamnach had suggested she had a way to counteract the magic of his eye.

“I think Fuamnach knows how to stop him.”

Ciara eyed her warily. “I can take you to her. But I am not sure that is a wise idea.”

“Why not?”

Ciara grimaced. “You did get her imprisoned.”

Shea supposed that would make things difficult. Fuamnach had an impressive ability to hold a grudge. “Then tell me you have a better idea.”

Ciara sighed but offered no further protest.

The underside of the boat scraped against the rocks as they pulled ashore. After they finished tethering the boat to the docks, Ciara led Shea back into the castle. The guards stationed at intervals saluted Ciara as they passed. No questions asked, no suspicions voiced.

They made their way to a spiral staircase, and Shea expected to be taken into some damp, cold chamber beneath the earth. She envisioned stone walls and oppressive darkness, the rattling of chains, and maybe some instruments of torture. Instead, Ciara guided them upward.

On the top floor of the tower, a chandelier swung from a chain overhead, casting eerie shadows across the walls. A silvery limb of the apple tree pierced the room from floor to ceiling.It was hollow, Shea realized; a narrow sliver in its trunk was sealed with bars of solid iron. If that wasn’t enough of a cruelty, someone had woven strings of rowan berries and other magical wards through them.

Ciara shuddered violently and stopped dead in the threshold. “This is where I leave you. Do be careful. She may be contained, but she is still dangerous.”

“I will be.”

Reluctantly, Ciara withdrew into the hall. Slowly, Shea approached the bars. In the swaying columns of light, she could make out a shape huddled within the prison. A pair of wolf-yellow eyes blinked open, as brilliant as full moons in the gloom. They locked onto Shea and burned with resentment.

“I have seen enough of you to last a thousand lifetimes,” Fuamnach said dispassionately. “I take it you’ve come to gloat.”

“No. I came to talk.”

“Wow.” Fuamnach’s voice oozed sarcasm; she sounded like Lily again. “It must be my lucky day.”

Shea lowered herself onto the floor and sat as close as she dared. The stone beneath them was bitter cold and bit into her very bones. She almost pitied Fuamnach. She’d drawn her knees into her chest to ward off the chill, making herself seem smaller. Her hair was snarled with mats of blood. Her dark makeup was smeared like war paint, her cheekbone stained plum with the beginnings of a bruise. Despite all that unshakable, battle-won pride, she looked wretchedly exhausted.

“Was it worth it?” Shea asked quietly.