Black Rook

by Ingrid Seymour

  All types of goods were delivered to the compound in this manner: fresh fruit and vegetables, grain, flour, meat, and more. From what I’d observed, it was Datcu’s job to make sure everything was in order. In fact, he appeared to be carrying out this duty just now.

  Walking out of the courtyard, he glanced all around. I pulled back, peering from behind the tree trunk. Once he seemed satisfied there was no one nearby, he squatted next to a tree, pulled something from under his jacket and hid it.

  I frowned, intrigued by his actions. What was he doing?

  He went back into the courtyard. A few servants came out through the kitchen door and, instructed by the Rook, took goods out of the wagon and went back into the building. As all the servants disappeared, Datcu pulled something out of the wagon, rushed back out, and hid it by the tree.

  Slipping on my boot, I hurried around the perimeter and—as Rook Datcu went back inside to instruct the servants—I ran toward the tree, hunched low to the level of the courtyard wall, and peered into his hiding spot.

  I had to look twice to spot two bottles of amber-colored spirits tucked between a hollow made by the tree’s gnarled roots.

  My thoughts took off at a fast run. What was happening here? I went around the bend, retreating out of sight, my thoughts still bouncing inside my skull.

  Rook Datcu was stealing. There was wine for the Rooks and Knights, but I’d never seen spirits, which meant he was taking supplies meant for the Bishops or the King himself.

  Oh, Datcu, Datcu. What a bad subject you are.

  An idea started taking shape. Something that involved causing a little chaos in this godsforsaken place.

  Everyone thought they had such a wonderful arrangement and lived content with their ranks and their benefits. The Black Board had been undisturbed for years, the only movement happening amongst the Challengers and Pawns. At higher levels, Rook Sanda, from my Quadrant, was the newest member, and he’d already been a Rook for two decades. No doubt they’d grown too comfortable.

  A smile stretched across my lips. Maybe it was time for some of the exploits King Maximus was expecting.

  Leaving my hiding place, I walked back toward the tree just as Datcu finished hiding another bottle in his little den.

  “How many is that, Rook Datcu?” I asked in a jovial tone.

  He jumped to his feet and whirled in my direction, his red-tinted eyes practically flying out of their sockets.

  “What are you talking about?” he said, trying to appear innocent.

  I gestured toward the tree. “Bottles of spirits,” I said. “What else?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, removing his bowler hat and scratching his head.

  I chuckled. “Sure you do,” I said, glancing toward the dining hall, in the back of which the Knights kept their offices.

  “Oh, well,” he scratched his head again, a dumb expression on his pale features, “it’s just a few. Nothing anyone will miss.”

  I leaned in closer. “Is it any good? I hope so, because that’s a big risk you’re taking.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” he said, glancing dubiously toward the tree.

  He was trying to make me think this was the first time he’d done this, but something told me he was lying. If I wasn’t mistaken, he did this regularly.

  Was it all for himself? Or did he share it with others in his Quadrant?

  I nodded, acting as if I believed him. “Enjoy it.” I winked, conspiratorially. I mimed putting a lock on my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.” I turned to leave.

  “Wait!”

  I glanced over my shoulder.

  “Thank you,” he said, approaching, his eyes darting in every direction. “I really appreciate it. And just for that, I’ll share some with you.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that,” I said, thinking I didn’t want to get caught with my hands on the King’s supplies.

  He laughed and patted my shoulder as if we were the best of friends. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he said, the hint of a threat in his voice.

  I walked away and headed for the stables to give Jigsaw his dinner before it was time for mine.

  Later, in the dining hall, I ate my roast beef, vegetable, and barley, sitting next to Marin while he talked about visiting his mother during the Hallows Eve celebrations. Rook Datcu sat across the hall at his Quadrant’s table. He glanced in my direction several times, even raised his tankard once, acknowledging me.

  Maybe I’d made a mistake getting involved in his clandestine business. As if I didn’t have enough with the members of my own Quadrant making my life impossible. In any case, I wasn’t here on vacation. Whatever advantage I could gain over these people was a good thing. Maybe this knowledge would help me later somehow.

  Finishing my dinner quickly, I left the dining hall before anyone else. Outside it was dark, no moon to illuminate the way back to the dormitory. Servants had begun lighting torches around the compound, but they had started closer to the palace and hadn’t made it this way yet.

  I followed the pathway, taking care not to stray from it. I was almost to my dormitory when someone approached from behind, drove me out of the path, and pushed me against the outer wall of the building, knocking the air from my lungs.

  “Shh.” Rook Datcu’s face appeared in front of mine, one of his thick fingers resting across my lips. “Don’t make a peep,” he said in a tone that was a mixture of amusement and threat.

  I nodded.

  Where the hell had he come from? I knew Rooks could move fast thanks to King Maximus’s blood, but this was ridiculous. I had left him in the dining room, and I hadn’t heard him at all until he was upon me.

  He removed his finger from my mouth. “You didn’t rat me out.”

  “I said I wouldn’t. I’m a man of my word.”

  “I see that.” He smiled, slipping something into my jacket. “Keep it that way,” he said, then was gone in the blink of an eye.

  I stood there for a moment, heart thundering inside my chest, eyes blinking at the dark night. After a moment, I reached into my jacket and pulled out what Datcu had left there.

  It was a metal flask made of silver and carved with the Black Court’s coat of arms, the words Semper Tenebris etched across the bottom. I unscrewed the cap and sniffed its contents. I winced at the sharp smell of what must be spirits. I thought of taking a swig. I felt like I needed it after that scare but, in the end, I decided against it. What if it was poisoned? That would be an easy way for Datcu to get rid of me. Not only that, no one would ever suspect him.

  Making sure no one was looking, I dug a hole under one of the hedges that surrounded my dormitory and buried the flask. I didn’t want anyone finding it among my belongings and, for all I knew, that was Datcu’s plan.

  No way was I falling for it.

  CHAPTER 8

  Tonight was Hallows Eve, and there was a masquerade ball at the Black Palace. It was the first of four major festivities to take place since I’d become a Challenger.

  The Palace’s gates were thrown open for any who wished to become part of the revelry. Everyone was welcome. Though commoners contented themselves with their own, more modest celebrations. A night out on the town, dancing under the moonlight in the central courtyard of their Square. A meal with their family in one of the inns. A drunken gathering with friends to consume all the ale their money could buy. Or an extra special meal at home, safe from harm.

  Obviously, as a commoner with enough reasons to stay away from both palaces, I had never attended any of their fancy balls. I had, instead, spent those nights with my family. My parents and Timotei, at first, and after they died, only with my little brother.

  I had been in the Black Palace for four months already—two as a Challenger, and two as Fourth Pawn—and I had yet to set foot inside of King Maximus’s lair.

  Tonight that would change.

  The sky was clear, a full moon casting light bright enough to read by. I was on the path that led fr
om my dormitory up to the palace. I wore my black uniform, the insignia of a Pawn with four bars under it embroidered on the right arm of my jacket.

  As the night required highly formal attire, I wore my cloak as well as my sword. My perfectly-polished boots reflected the moonlight and marked my every step toward the sounds of merrymaking and debauchery that emanated from the palace.

  The black building ahead reflected the moonlight, its four domed towers perfectly visible, for once. Light shone extravagantly from every window. Just the candles required for such a fit must cost my monthly income times a thousand. Such a waste.

  A string orchestra serenaded the callous nobles, its music drifting placidly through the night’s crisp air. Gone were the humidity and heat of summer. Winter would be upon us soon, bringing heavy snows and frigid winds.

  The familiar heaviness that had throttled my chest ever since that night I tried to rescue Timotei grew worse the closer I got to the palace’s entrance. I hadn’t seen my brother since that terrible day nearly eight weeks ago. I hadn’t even seen the King, despite my fear he’d come to find me, looking for more “entertainment.”

  A horse-drawn carriage rode up to the paved path and stopped in front of the steps that led to the massive entrance. A page walked forward and opened the door to the carriage. A woman in an elaborate white gown descended with his help. Unhurriedly, she climbed up the steps and went into the palace, her voluminous skirts swaying as she walked. She was fashionably late, as was I.

  The page returned to his spot next to the imposing obsidian dragon sculptures that framed the stairs. They stared straight ahead, ignoring me as I stopped and stood between them, glancing up at the glowing black building.

  Light spilled out past the threshold, warm and inviting, but it was a deception because I knew the inside was as black as the outside.

  Timotei was in there, had been for too long. I didn’t know if I would see him tonight. And after failing him so dismally, I didn’t know if I could bear it. A child shouldn’t be part of such late-night celebrations, but if the King didn’t respect life, why should he respect bedtime?

  Holding my chin high, I made my way up the steps. Gods only knew what awaited me inside, what new cruel game King Maximus might design for me once he saw me.

  But, ignored as I’d been since I became Fourth Pawn, I felt lured into the palace. I had no choice but to go in since anything I could find out about this place could be useful in my quest to rescue Timotei. I didn’t know the palace’s layout, and this was my first opportunity to learn it. Still, I feared the consequences of going near the King.

  Pushing all of that aside, I crossed the threshold. The night stayed behind and, paradoxically, I seemed to step into daylight. The enormous foyer was illuminated by hundreds of candles. The space felt welcoming and merry. The complete opposite of what I had imagined.

  Dominating the room was an enormous marble staircase, carpeted with what looked like red velvet. Elaborately carved tables topped with porcelain vases lined the walls, spilling with fragrant flowers of all colors. Oil portraits graced the walls, many of them depicting King Maximus in different settings.

  There was no one around, so I meandered for a moment, examining the portraits. Every person on every canvas appeared human, even the King. There was color in their cheeks and life in their eyes.

  I stopped in front of one of Maximus’s portraits. In it, he stood tall next to a marble column, his black suit pristine, one hand resting on the sword at his waist. He seemed to stare down at me with blue eyes that reflected the light. His skin was white but had a slight pink tint to it. No veins snaked up his neck or around his eyes. A chill ran down my spine as I realized he appeared more alive on the canvas than he did in person.

  When had this portrait been painted? Before he became a vampire? Or afterward? If the latter, did that mean he wished to be human again?

  I turned away from the many portraits and made my way up the stairs. I’d lingered enough, trying to avoid joining the revelers.

  At the top, more fragrant flowers graced the landing. They made me think of sunshine and gardens when I should have been thinking of death and cemeteries. Was this the King’s way to lure in his victims? To make them feel comfortable and forget where they were? Maximus hated the light, no matter that he drank enough Trove blood to allow him to walk unharmed during the day. When he wasn’t hosting a party, most of the windows remained dark, so, clearly, this wasn’t for his benefit.

  A tall, double door lay at the right end of the landing. Music, chatter, and laughter drifted through the air, a lure of gaiety and pleasure. Just like all the light, it was designed to fool the guests into a false sense of security, to make them forget their throats could be ripped open at any moment.

  After a calming inhale, I lifted the mask I’d been carrying to my face, tied the silk lace behind my head, and walked toward the door.

  Twirling color and brilliance dazzled me as I entered the ballroom. Couples danced to the cadence of a slow waltz, their feet sliding across the inlaid wooden floor. Men, dressed in black tails, wore simple velvet masks over their eyes. Women in stunning gowns of red, purple, green, and turquoise sported more elaborate masks, decorated with feathers and jewels. They smiled up at their partners, their feet light and graceful.

  My eyes roved around the large room, searching, trying to find the danger that I knew lived between these walls.

  But I didn’t find it. I saw only lies.

  Back straight, senses alert, I moved around the dance floor, past onlookers who stood chatting, drinking wine from tall glasses, cackling in their nonsensical conversations.

  A few ladies glanced my way and smiled. I frowned.

  That was different.

  I was used to people’s smiles disappearing whenever I walked through the city in my uniform, used to their bowed heads and hurried steps as they rushed away from me. But apparently, the gentry didn’t feel the same way about the members of the Board—not even a lowly Fourth Pawn like me.

  A young woman with a jewel-encrusted mask winked at me as I passed. Her rouged lips twisted in an inviting smile meant to tempt me. But to what? Ask her to dance? Something more?

  I pressed forward, ignoring her. I wasn’t here for that. I was here to—

  My roving eyes stopped.

  A graceful figure moving flawlessly to the rhythm of the waltz captured my attention. I froze, utterly captivated, as if this person possessed some sort of magic that could immediately ensnare me in any crowded room, tavern, or market.

  She was wearing a silken, lilac gown, dark hair flowing in tight curls over her shoulders. Her golden skin glowed with the warm light from the candles. Her presence completely filled the ballroom, the way water fills a glass. I was swimming in it, my every sense immersed.

  I called to her, the way she called to me.

  Her brown eyes—behind a glittering mask with pink and purple gems—locked with mine. Her lips parted, and I knew, even by that simple stirring that she recognized me too.

  Bianca was here.

  CHAPTER 9

  My heart started racing, immediately afraid for Bianca.

  What was she doing here?! A Trove, in King Maximus’s palace. Was she crazy? Did she have a death wish?

  My eyes darted around the room, searching for other members of the Board. None were in sight, but that didn’t help relieve the pressure in my chest.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I stepped onto the dance floor and walked toward her. She and her partner turned in their dance, but her eyes never left mine.

  I tapped the man on the shoulder. “May I?” I asked with a small bow.

  He seemed disappointed and parted from Bianca with obvious regret.

  Stepping in front of her, I took her hand and slipped my arm around her small waist, bringing her closer. We fell in step with the music.

  Pressing my lips tightly to her ear, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

  She laid a hand on my chest and pushed me awa
y, creating some distance between us.

  “It’s good to see you, Nyro,” she said, donning a smile, at the same time that her expressive eyes flared a warning.

  The vampire can hear us. Be careful! her eyes seemed to say.

  I nodded, regretting my foolishness. “It’s good to see you as well,” I said, trying to sound as pleasant as she had.

  “I see you’re Fourth Pawn, now.” She ran a finger over the embroidered insignia on my jacket.

  A chill traveled across my back at her touch. Last time she’d seen me, I’d been only a Challenger.

  But what about her? Had she become a member of the White Board? Or had she lost her challenge and been pardoned? Yes, that had to be it. Because what would one of the Queen’s own be doing here?

  Relief washed over me, which was confusing. It made no sense. I hardly knew her. Why should I care about her fate?

  “Have you been here long?” I asked, unsure of what else to say that wouldn’t put her in danger.

  “A half hour, perhaps,” she said. “It’s a marvelous party.”

  I nodded, wondering if this was an act or her real personality. She was one of the gentry, after all. Maybe joining the Board had been all a game of some sort to her, a way to pass her time and allay her boredom.

  Unable to stand the suspense, I began to ask a question, “Are you still... ?” The rest of my words caught in my throat, but she seemed to understand.

  Her eyes darting around the room, Bianca gave a slight nod, then glanced pointedly at my Pawn insignia. Did she mean she was also a Fourth Pawn now?

  We danced quietly for a moment, her gloved hand in mine. The fresh scent of her hair impregnated my senses. Everyone in the room seemed to disappear. I wanted badly to remove her mask and see her fully. In the past two months, her face had visited my dreams several times. So by now, I thought I knew her features by heart, but I wanted to make sure.

  “You look beautiful,” I whispered in her ear, unable to help myself.