Black Knight

by Ingrid Seymour

  My chest clenched. Lovina was here.

  Bianca turned her back on me and stood at attention, her arm outstretched in a salute. I took a step back, then another until I had a good view of the Queen through the partygoers.

  She was alabaster white with spidery dark veins scattered about. Her waist-long hair matched her pallor. Her eyes glowed brightly, two red beacons that bespoke her nature. A smile stretched her crimson-painted lips. She looked... happy. Her expression curdled my blood. She was celebrating the acquisition of a new Trove, the fact that she could, once more, walk in the daylight. The sun-loving Queen had a new slave, and it made her joyful.

  A small crown rested on her brow. I craned my neck, trying to get a glimpse of her hands. Did she have the scepter with her? My throat closed up when I realized she did. I clenched my fists.

  Timotei’s freedom was within reach.

  The scepter was golden, about the length of my forearm. It had a round top the size of a fist, which was delicately carved and etched with small, colorful jewels. From where I stood, it didn’t seem impressive or all that valuable, not considering the riches Maximus had in his own palace. So why did he want it?

  I imagined myself barreling through all the nobles, the ladies falling on their silken bottoms as I pushed them out of the way. I imagined snatching the scepter from the Queen’s hand and running away with my new preternatural speed, bursting through the front gate, and getting lost in the woods as I made my way to the Black Palace, to safety and freedom for my brother.

  I could do it, couldn’t I? I was fast enough. I’d outrun both Black Knights. I could outrun the White Knights too, not to mention the Rooks. I glanced at Bianca’s back, ramrod straight in her salute. Would she take chase?

  I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek until I drew blood. I was being stupid, nonsensical. Even if I managed to pry the scepter from the Queen’s fingers, I would never outrun her. She was as strong as Maximus and was capable of crushing my neck with one hand.

  The Queen walked down the dance floor while her subjects stepped aside, bowing. Her red eyes searched the crowd and stopped when they found Bianca. Her smile deepened.

  Lovina extended a hand toward her Rook. The people who stood in front of Bianca opened a path from her to the Queen.

  “Come, Rook Flagfall,” the Queen said.

  Bianca seemed to hesitate for an instant. When she moved toward her Queen, I fought the urge to grab her wrist and hold her back.

  “Today, I can celebrate because of you,” Lovina added as Bianca stopped a few steps from the Queen and inclined her head. “Join me,” she added as she veered toward a set of carved doors.

  As Lovina glided away, she pointed at different people inviting them to follow. Realizing what was happening, I quickly made my way toward the door, squeezing past several lords and ladies. They glanced at me in disapproval but didn’t dare voice their protests out loud. When I reached the door, I pushed to the front, puffing out my chest like a rooster.

  The Queen pointed her scepter right and left, granting her favor. The chosen smiled, the rest tried in vain to hide their disappointment. The carved doors opened as if magically.

  I puffed my lungs even wider until I felt they might explode.

  Lovina pointed her scepter straight at my chest. I almost deflated in relief just as Bianca surreptitiously shook her head, warning me that I shouldn’t go in.

  I ignored her and stepped into the room after the other chosen ones.

  CHAPTER 17

  The carved doors shut behind us, two pages closing them securely and standing at attention with their backs to them.

  We had entered a large drawing room, illuminated by crystal sconces that refracted the light from dozens of candles and made me believe the sun was shining outside.

  Two large tables lined the side walls, brimming with wine and food. Flowers filled the room with color and their sweet scent. The floor was layered with many rugs. Settees, armchairs, lounge chairs, card tables, and sofas occupied most of the space, arranged in groups to form small gatherings. People fell into place like pieces of a chessboard as if they knew their proper stations and were afraid to be kicked out if they made the wrong move. It made me wonder how many times this game had been played out.

  Casually, I moved to one of the food tables, picked up a glass of wine, and faced the guests as they arranged themselves. A corner was reserved for the Queen. She sat at a regal, high-back chair, from which she had a clear view of everyone in the room. The scepter lay on her lap while she talked to a gentleman with graying hair.

  Bianca stood a step behind the Queen, relegated to the role of guard dog. It made my blood boil.

  The Queen laughed at something the man said, and the scepter rolled off her lap and fell to the floor with a thud muffled by the rug.

  Lovina barely spared a glance toward Bianca as she picked the scepter up and tried to hand it back. Instead, the Queen waved her hand to indicate she didn’t want it. With a shrug, Bianca set it on small table to the right of the Queen’s chair. The entire exchange struck me as odd.

  Eyes glued to the scepter, I downed the wine in one gulp. Bianca was peering at me again, her eyes flicking toward the door, asking me to leave. I snatched another glass of wine and walked in her direction instead.

  “I am so happy for you,” the older man was saying to the Queen as I came within hearing distance.

  He appeared to be in his late forties. His clothes and posture conveyed a message of wealth that I recognized all too well.

  Before I joined the Black Board and I resorted to theft for our survival, I’d learned to stay away from men like this. He was too rich, too confident in his position near the Queen. I hadn’t known then what it took to hold such privilege. Still, I’d been smart enough to stay away from the likes of him.

  However, living close to the Black King had taught me what it took to become a favorite of the Queen or King. One had to be heartless.

  Men like this facilitated the introduction of fresh victims to our blood-thirsty monarchs. Young society men and women healthy, plump, and ripe for the tasting. The King and Queen’s favorite.

  Men like this relinquished their own sons and daughters for whatever advantages the monarchs could offer them.

  “I was very sad when I heard your last Trove had died,” he continued. “A new Trove found so quickly is wonderful news.”

  Wonderful news.

  I had to set my glass down to make sure I didn’t crush it in my fist. For a moment, I pretended to be distracted by a chess game between a man and a woman. A black rook and a white rook were still on the board, like Bianca and I, they were trapped inside tight squares, able to move only in restricted ways.

  Surreptitiously, I glanced back toward the Queen, then the scepter. Candlelight danced on its surface as it lay forgotten. It was then I realized the scepter was like the Queen, dazzling in its beauty, but ultimately fake. Lovina had practically discarded the golden trinket. This was not what I was looking for, what Maximus so deeply desired.

  Call it a thief’s instinct, but I knew the Queen didn’t care about this scepter. The real thing was elsewhere, the throne room, perhaps. That would be my first guess.

  “And is it true you are to be a Knight soon?” the man asked, his inquisitive attention shifting toward Bianca.

  A Knight?!

  My eyes darted from the scepter to Bianca. My mind reeled. Had Bianca issued a challenge already? Was she that desperate to become Queen?

  In answer, she nodded. Afterward, her eyes met mine for the briefest of instants, and it was all I needed to understand that she was displeased. Had her hand been forced to a challenge? Had she been entrapped like me? Maybe she had changed her mind about becoming a Queen.

  What if I stole the real scepter and, somehow, took her with me? My request for Maximus could be to leave Acedrex with Timotei and Bianca. He’d said I could ask for anything I wanted, after all.

  “Knight Flagfall,” the man said, “I
t has a ring to it. My, my, she is certainly a prodigy.”

  “Indeed,” the Queen said proudly. “Barely five months have passed since she first joined the Board, and she has already come this far.”

  They talked about Bianca as if she wasn’t there, while she stood in place looking conflicted by her own rapid ascent up the ranks... or perhaps by something else I couldn’t fathom. Maybe I was simply imagining what I wanted to believe.

  “Will you win, Rook Flagfall?” the man asked Bianca with a crooked smile.

  Bianca said nothing.

  “C’mon,” the man pressed. “Help me decide where to place my bets.”

  The Queen threw her head back and laughed. “Considering that she issued the challenge against Knight Kelsus shortly after proving herself the fastest, most efficient Rook I’ve ever had, I would put all my money on her if I were you.”

  I turned away and walked toward the exit. Yes. I was imagining things that weren’t there. Bianca was on a different path than mine. I couldn’t save her. She wanted this. All she cared about was revenge, and maybe that was all she really had.

  For my part, I had Timotei.

  CHAPTER 18

  I left the drawing room without looking back.

  In the ballroom, the dancing continued, the frivolous couples twirling and laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world, as if this city didn’t deal in blood and death.

  Leaving the stifling ballroom behind, I went back to the ample foyer. Others were there, meandering the large, white space, holding glasses of wine and admiring the paintings on the walls.

  A fire crackled in a massive fireplace at the very back of the room, generating enough heat to make me want to run out into the frosty night. A thousand thoughts tangled in my mind. I wanted to scream and rage at this world. Why did some people have everything they wanted while even the most basic things were stolen from me?

  I stopped, my mind torn between what I’d come here to do and what I’d heard. The room seemed to spin.

  Two women, a brunette and a blonde, stood to my right, glancing up at a large painting. A girl in a nearly-transparent white dress twirled in the middle of prairie dotted with purple flowers. Her blond braids flew in the wind, unraveling into undulating strands.

  “It’s a remarkable painting,” the brunette said. “They have a similar one in the throne room.” The last two words were pronounced with emphasis in a tone meant to cause envy.

  Drawn by the conversation, I turned casually and glanced up at the painting. The women hadn’t noticed me, but pretending to admire the canvas, I hoped to appear inconspicuous.

  “You’ve been in the throne room?” the blonde asked, equal measures impressed and envious.

  The brunette sipped her wine, stretching her moment of satisfaction. “Yes,” she finally said. “Rupertus and I visit with the Queen often. As a matter of fact, he’s with her now.”

  “Could you show me?” the blonde asked, inclining her head toward a darkened corridor.

  “Holy gambit, no!” the brunette exclaimed. “That would be highly inappropriate.” She whirled on her heel, acting offended. When she noticed me, she blinked in surprise. “Pardon me,” she said, then walked around me and marched toward the ballroom.

  The blonde stayed in front of the painting, pretending, as I did, to admire it. From where I stood, I could see her neck was red with shame. She didn’t move until her complexion had gone back to normal.

  As she walked away, I thanked her with a small bow. She gave me a rehearsed smile. She had no idea what she’d done. The palace was huge, finding the throne room in one night would have been impossible, unless I just happened to stumble upon it. I didn’t have that kind of luck.

  Walking confidently as if I knew exactly where I was going, I headed down the corridor the blonde had indicated. I didn’t glance back to check if anyone had noticed me, but no one had cried out in alarm. I figured that meant I was safe.

  The corridor was long and dim, illuminated only by a few gas sconces.

  A myriad of other passages extended in different directions with no hint of where they led. Why had I thought this would be easy?

  The music from the ballroom receded the deeper I went. Silence grew. My heart hammered in my chest and pounded in my ears. The fear was not for me, but for Timotei. If something happened to me, all hope for his freedom would be lost.

  I opened several doors to find empty drawing rooms, libraries, long and airy dining rooms, but no throne room. The entrance would have to be grand for a throne room, wouldn’t it? I hadn’t seen anything luxurious enough yet, at least not in this passage.

  Clocks ticked behind some of those closed doors, punctuating every second of my futile search.

  At the end of the hall, a set of filigree doors stood closed. They were grand enough for the Queen’s throne room. I tried the handle. It didn’t give. Of course the doors would be locked, especially if the scepter lay somewhere behind them.

  I felt for my dagger in my boot. A simple lock wouldn’t stop me.

  Red eyes flashed before my mind in a reminder that it wasn’t the locked door I was supposed to worry about. If the Queen’s Bishops were anything like Dragoslav and Balan, they might be lurking behind unexpected corners. With Talyssa’s blood in my veins, I might be able to outrun and perhaps overpower a Knight, but a Bishop? Never.

  I angled my dagger between the narrow gap between the doors. Eyes closed and ears tuned, I worked the weapon until I heard a click. Then, I pushed the latch out of the way and pulled the handle. The door opened. A smile spread across my lips.

  The sound of laughter came from one of the many rooms I’d passed and ignored down the hall. The door opened. A sliver of light split the hall in two.

  Quickly, I slipped behind the filigree door I’d just unlocked and eased it closed. Leaving a gap, I peered out and watched as two people stepped into the hall: two men, a short one in a white uniform, and a tall one in a regular suit. They were holding hands. I squinted in the dim light and was able to make out a Knight insignia in the arm of the shorter man.

  He closed the door to the room and turned to leave, but the taller man pressed the shorter one to the wall and began kissing his neck.

  The light from a nearby sconce illuminated their faces.

  My mouth went dry as I recognized Knight Traian, my Quadrant leader. His slender face and hook nose were unmistakable. And he wasn’t kissing a man.

  Traian was kissing White Knight Ferko, the Decapitator herself.

  CHAPTER 19

  Everyone in Acedrex knew the Decapitator.

  Everyone in Acedrex feared her.

  Knight Ferko was a cold-blooded killer who decapitated anyone who dared challenge her post as White Knight. She didn’t know the meaning of the word mercy.

  I watched the passionate exchange between the Black Knight and the White Knight, my stomach turning with disgust.

  After a long moment, Knight Ferko pushed Traian away. She straightened her uniform, composing herself.

  “Leave,” she said in a firm command.

  Traian lifted a hand and tried to caress her face.

  She slapped it away. “Leave, I said.”

  The Black Knight sighed in disappointment, then walked away.

  A few beats passed. Ferko watched Traian’s retreating figure, then glanced in the direction of the throne room.

  I froze as she peered into the dim hall. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head, frowning.

  Shit!

  She had noticed the crack in the door. Could she see me through it? No, it was too dark. She couldn’t.

  I stayed still, my lungs frozen. If I moved, she would surely notice me, if she hadn’t already.

  She glanced back the way Traian had gone.

  Seeing my chance to move, I jumped away from the door and retreated to one side. My arm hit something. There was a tittering sound that seemed to last forever, then whatever I’d hit crashed to the floor with the sharp sound of shattering glas
s.

  The sound was a strident explosion inside my mind.

  Looking for an escape, I turned away from the door and faced what looked like rows and rows of bookshelves. I was not in the throne room. I was in a library. What looked like a stained glass window made up the large fourth wall at the end of the long space.

  Steps pounded outside the door behind me. I ran, my movements liquid, faster than humanly possible. I hid behind a shelf and peered over the top of a row of books.

  The door burst open. It hit the wall with a loud boom that echoed through the room. The Decapitator stood at the threshold, peering in and standing in a threatening crouch.

  I tightened the grip on my dagger as my mind raced.

  I’m trapped. Shit. I’m trapped. How do I get out of here?

  Ferko sniffed the air. I heard the deep inhale, followed by a long exhale.

  Then she was moving, rushing around the shelf behind which I was hiding. I had a split second to decide what to do. Fight? Or flee?

  I crouched and braced myself, holding the dagger in front of me.

  In the next breath, a figure blurred before me. Faster than the eye could see, Ferko grabbed my wrist and twisted it at the same time that she drove me backward. Pain exploded up my forearm as it bent. My dagger dropped to the floor with a clatter and, next I knew, my whole arm was behind my back and my cheek was plastered against the wall.

  “Who are you?” Ferko demanded, pushing on my elbow until it felt as if my shoulder would become unhinged.

  “Are you alright?” A voice suddenly echoed through the library.

  From the corner of my eye, I could see Knight Traian’s silhouette framed by the door.

  Ferko’s head jerked in his direction. “I told you to fucking leave,” she spat.

  Traian frowned peering at my face. He stepped into the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “You know him?” Ferko demanded.

  Traian opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, his eyes went wide and his right hand jerked toward his stomach. His surprise lasted for only an instant, then he tried to turn. Someone was behind him.