Page 3 of Henrikk’s Game

One of the simpler chairs had been swapped out for another that was almost identical. It was the turned legs that gave it away: they were not simple and tapered, but a double twisted style.

The discovery raised every hair on Asher’s neck. It was such a harmless thing—one wooden chair swapped out for another that was almost identical—and yet it felt sinister.

Because it meant Henrikk had been here. He might not have swapped the chair out himself, but he’d certainly given the order.

It might even be the same damn seat with different legs attached.

He imagined the craftsman working frantically over the past hour whilst he was gone to complete such a task. Slowly, Asher crouched down and tilted the chair, examining the underside.

The joinery was immaculate. There was no sign of recent work that he could tell.

Except…

A tiny bright speck caught his eye.

Asher squinted and bent closer, focusing on a curly sliver of something wedged between the back leg and the seat rail.

His heart dropped. It was a wood shaving. Evidence of expert work performed hastily.

“Fucker,” Asher swore, letting the chair slam back down. He stood and turned in a circle, eyes raking the room for other changes.

There had to be more.

If there was one, there were more.

Henrikk would not stop at one. Nor at two.

Henrikk did not know when to stop.

He never stopped unless he was bored.

And if I bore him, I’m dead.

A sickening feeling swam through Asher as he searched the room, looking calmer than he felt with his ears buzzing with white noise.

Sure, this had been Henrikk’s room. But it had become Asher’s home and prison these past few weeks, a place where he had periods of sanctity between the king’s visits.

Now, Henrikk had taken that brief feeling of peace away, too. It was a new violation, so much more underhanded than the brutish visits he made to Asher’s bed.

These sneaky violations were typical of Henrikk’s mind games.

Of course, it would’ve been foolish to think that Henrikk would give Asher even a modicum of freedom around the castle without taking something away.

“Maybe he thought I wouldn’t notice immediately,” Asher muttered to himself. “Bet he wants me to think I’ve gone mad.”

Nice try.

He froze in the middle of swiping the narrow mantel.

What if he hadn’t noticed the changes immediately?

What if this had been going on for weeks?

Maybe the green rug had appeared a week ago. Or the week before that.

Or maybe…

Every muscle in his body tensed.