Page 96 of Immortal Game

Four seconds, and Midir interposed with his knight.

Three seconds, and she brought her own knight forward.

Two seconds, and he slid his king to another square—and yes,there, she saw it: checkmate in three.

The knight in her hand crackled with pure, electric potential. Midir must’ve seen the end, too, because he frantically scanned the board for any safe place to hide his king. It was too late. The last grain of sand in his hourglass fell. In the silence,she imagined she could hear it striking the others with a sound like a gunshot, final and fatal.

She’d flagged him. She’d won.

Shea laughed breathlessly. Tears stung at her eyes. Her ears buzzed painfully, as though her very soul was shifting to accommodate this new reality. Midir sat unmoving, uncomprehending.

“I lost,” he said.

It was almost a question. There was a childlike uncertainty in his voice, mixed with a quiet awe. Shea did not know what to say, becauseyeah, you did, sounded a little callous. His expression changed slowly. First came denial. Second, anguish. And third, a blistering, all-consuming rage.

“I…lost.” With one broad sweep of his arm, he cast all the remaining pieces off the board. Then, howling furiously, he smashed his head onto the table.

“Whoa,” she said helplessly. “Take it easy.”

Midir bashed his forehead against the board twice more for good measure, then stared up at her with one wild, accusing eye. It was a grisly sight. Blood ran down his face in thin rivulets. “Look what you have done to me!”

Ah, she thought. Here, at last, was the family resemblance.

Her horrified amusement, however, was short-lived. The entire world shifted beneath her feet and knocked her into her own chair. The distant sound of screams punched through the mist. As it dissipated, Shea could see splintering glass and crumbling stone—and all the spectators running for cover.

He was going to bring down the entire castle.

Midir had buried his face in his hands, seemingly oblivious to the destruction he was causing. A chunk of stone wallshattered the solarium’s ceiling and crashed to the ground barely a yard away from them. The impact reverberated through her chest. The beams groaned, threatening to give way.

“Midir,” she said urgently.

He ignored her, and a flare of annoyance cut through her panic. If he was so determined to die because he lost a stupid board game, who was she to stop him? He’d ruined her life, after all. He’d haunted her for years. He was cruel and changeful and selfish and… pathetic.

Seeing him like this made her feel indescribably exhausted. No, there was no satisfaction to be found here. Besides, she still needed her wish.

“Midir.” Shea grabbed his arm. “We need to go. Now.”

He sighed miserably. “Oh, very well.”

As stones and shards of glass pelted the earth like hail, the two of them fled. Shea hesitated for only a moment to look back. She wasn’t a sentimental person, really. But even she hated to see the board she’d played her immortal game on now buried beneath the rubble.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Shea stumbled into the open courtyard just as a section of the wall collapsed behind her. An entire wing of the castle lay in ruins. Crumbled stone battlements slumped together like people returning from war, bones broken and faces streaked with gore. The green scent of sap hung heavy in the air. The few surviving windows were cracked like thin ice over a pond.

She’d lost Midir in the chaos. She hadn’t seen Ciara or Daniil since before their game began. Panic jolted her. Where were they? If they hadn’t survived… No, they’d survived. They had to.

In a daze, she shoved through the crowds in search of any familiar face. Some of the fae were running through the grounds, flurries of cream fabric and wild eyes—either trying to escape or searching for their loved ones. Others had drawn weapons and stood facing down the central gate as if bracing for an attack. Some wandered past her like sleepwalkers. Others wept openly. It seemed Shea was entirely invisible to them, everyone locked in a world all their own. She made it to the gardens before someone shouted her name. Not Daniil or Ciara but—

“Aideen,” she rasped.

Aideen hurried toward her, her golden hair loose and fluttering behind her. Her white dress was torn and streaked with dust. She threw her arms around Shea and crushed her into a hug. “You’re alive.”

Shea all but collapsed against her, clinging to her as though Aideen was the only thing keeping her upright. “Daniil and Ciara—”

“They’re fine,” Aideen supplied, to Shea’s enormous relief. “Everyone is fine. We split up to look for you. Did you…?”

“Yeah. I won.”