Page 21

Chapter

Nineteen

I shake my head and grip the arms of the throne. “This was an accident. I don’t even know how to play.”

The Red Queen slices her hand through the air. “No one can leave once the game has begun. You challenged me when you stepped on the board, and now I am answering your call. Don’t insult me by quitting.”

I glance at my companions and find the rabbit skimming through a book. Where did that come from? And more importantly, why does he feel this is the appropriate time to immerse himself in a story? Is it his coping mechanism?

The chess board expands, nudging everyone’s feet and making them jump back.

“Strategy?” Theo asks Nash.

“Are they the same rules?” Nash checks with the rabbit.

The rabbit shakes his head. “No, but the board pieces move in the same patterns.”

“Then how does it differ?” Hart asks.

The rabbit’s gaze meets mine. “When a piece meets another, they go into battle. The victor remains on the board, while the other is removed.”

That doesn’t sound too bad. Being removed isn’t dead.

Malachi grimaces. “How is a victor declared?”

The Red Queen chuckles. “When the other is no longer breathing, of course. Occasionally, I leave them alive if we are short of a beheading.”

Wow. Violet eyes appear above her head and wink at me. That damn cat. I’m still not clear if he’s friend or foe.

A pawn shifts forward in front of the Red Queen. We’ve begun, and I have no idea what I’m doing.

“What now?” I shout as my hands grip the arms of the throne until the whites of my knuckles show.

“Yes, please advise the poor girl,” the Red Queen coaxes as she leans forward in her matching throne.

“Move the pawn second from the end on your left two spaces forward,” Nash instructs.

The rabbit’s head snaps up, and he frowns. An invisible force sweeps Nash off his feet, skidding him across the board and tossing him onto the throne beside me. A matching crown drops onto his head.

“You’re my king?” I check.

He jerks his head. “That’s right. Now it’s your job to protect me.”

The Red Queen moves another pawn, and Nash leans forward to study the board.

Eugene and Hamish decide to scurry their feathery asses onto the checkered squares. I rub my forehead as they are swept onto two squares, one in from the edge.

“And now they are your knights,” Malachi grumbles.

Hamish plonks her ass down and lays an egg. Charming runs forward like he can’t help himself, and the Red Queen chuckles low as he gets sucked inside a tower on the outer edge.

“You idiot,” Gwyneth mutters before she gets dragged into the matching castle on the other side of the board.

Theo and Hart glance at each other before stepping onto the board and are dragged into the squares next to the capons.

A giant hat appears on their heads, and a long staff materializes in their hands.

A long robe settles over their tall frames, and I have to stifle the chuckle at them wearing dresses.

“Bishops,” Nash informs me.

Hamish pecks Hart’s hat. I agree; it’s a ridiculous look for them.

Malachi takes a step back to ensure he doesn’t get dragged onto the board. The rabbit gets closer and points out something in the book. Malachi nods.

The genie poofs into the air above the board and emits a low whistle. “Okay, no cheating, play fair, no dirty tricks,” he says as he glowers in the Red Queen’s direction.

I’m a little concerned that he is taking this in his stride. Maybe in his world, people play violent chess all the time.

The Red Queen tilts her head at him. “You are most interesting.”

The cat’s violet eyes hover back and forth along the Red Queen’s edge of the board. Friend or foe? Give us a clue.

The genie puffs out his chest at being called interesting. Then his gaze lands on Eugene and Hamish in horror. “Who thought it smart to add the capons to a strategy game?”

“They did,” Theo grumbles as he tries to pull the huge poofy hat off of his head. He coughs, and a plume of smoke puffs from his lips. The Red Queen narrows her gaze on my dragon. Hands off, lady. He’s mine.

We each move more pawns—mine under Nash’s direction—and I can see the wheels turning in his head as he studies every move the Red Queen makes.

My heart thrums in my chest as the pieces weave around one another. Nash’s hand lands on mine. “Trust me,” he whispers before directing me to move a pawn.

The Red Queen’s eyes light up, and she moves her bishop into its path. The bishop’s robes billow behind him as he lifts his staff and rumbles some strange-sounding words before slicing his weapon down and cutting the pawn into two perfect halves, which go skittering off the edges of the board.

I grimace as I glance at Nash. He said to trust him.

The genie gasps. “And the Red Queen strikes the first blow. What will our heroine do in retaliation? Who will she save, and who will she sacrifice?”

“Wait,” Malachi says, gesturing toward the rabbit and his book. “If you win, all your pieces get restored. It doesn’t matter who is sacrificed, as they will be brought back.”

Too risky.

Nash narrows his eyes as he strategizes, his hand tightening around mine. I’m not going to like his next move. His throat bobs as he decides, which I repeat to the Red Queen.

Gwyneth’s rook moves, and she lifts into the air before smashing down onto a red pawn. The rubble scatters on the board, and Sir Sweeps-A-Lot darts forward to clean up. I pinch the bridge of my nose. Nope, not helping this time.

“What’s happening?” Eron asks from his mirror tucked safely in my pocket. I pull him free and show him the board.

“I hate this game, but you hardly have time for playing,” he grumbles.

I turn him back to me and watch in horror as the Red Queen moves her knight. Twin swords emerge from him, and he slices them in an arc, removing the head of a pawn. My broom jerks back like he can’t believe what happened.

“We aren’t playing voluntarily,” I mutter to Eron.

The genie sweeps in an arc above the board. “Oh my, the Red Queen is the master of head removal,” he says. Like she needs any more support at being a psychopath.

Nash leans over to whisper in my ear. “I have her strategy. It’s rigid and predictable. We can win, but you have to stay strong.”

My eyes flutter closed as I hear the undercurrent of what he’s about to do. I don’t know if I can stand to see the end of anyone here, even temporarily. No, wait. Charming is fair game.

I repeat another move to the board at Nash’s urging.

“Daphne, no,” Gwyneth’s voice pierces the air, thick with desperation as her rook boldly advances into the path of the Red Queen’s pawn.

I shut my eyes tightly, burying my fears beneath a shroud of hope, whispering frantic prayers to the Idols—clinging to the frayed edges of faith that Nash knows what he’s doing.

An ear splitting crash shatters the moment, swallowing my sister’s cries into a haunting void.

A suffocating silence envelops us, heavy with an unnameable dread.

Then, like a storm unleashed, Charming’s furious roar rends through the stillness, a sound that reverberates in my very bones.

My heart stutters, a painful pause that drags me into despair.

The brilliance that was Gwyneth, the light that ignited my world, flickers out, leaving only shadows in its wake. I grit my teeth against the tidal wave of grief rising within me, forcing myself to open my eyes.

My gaze locks with the genie’s shocked face.

A flicker of an idea ignites deep in my chest—a desperate thread of possibility.

I no longer care for the perils that come with it; I would cast my wish to bring her back, no matter the consequences.

Nash’s plan—whatever it is—swirls uncertainly in the back of my mind, but a deafening doubt claws at my heart, gnawing at the edges of my resolve. What if this was all for nothing?

“In a dramatic turn of events,” the genie says gravely, “the White Queen makes a move that sacrifices her sister’s life. Now the stakes are higher than she ever bargained for. Is it time to play dirty?”

“Nash,” Theo calls.

I snarl the instructions out as Nash fires them in rapid succession.

We lose Hamish. Her feathers float in the air, and Eugene squawks like she’s lost her best friend in the entire universe. Nash glances at Hart, who nods his understanding.

Hart’s bishop moves. The Red Queen’s cruel lips lift, and she moves for the first time.

She drags it out, letting the horror fully settle in our chests as she converges on Hart.

He lifts his staff, ready for the fight of his life.

My throat tightens, and hot tears spill down my cheeks.

I grind my teeth together as I prepare the wish I’ll make to undo this mess.

Chess’s violet eyes appear on the other side of the board, and he tilts them down to the Red King before floating over to an empty square. Nash gives a tiny nod. So we are trusting the cat?

“The queen is down a sister and a lover. Is three enough for our clumsy maiden?” the genie remarks, continuing his commentary. I’d murder him, but I have use for him as my backup plan. His normal purple skin has turned a few shades paler. He’s more affected than he’s letting on.

The Red Queen’s voice drips with malice as her lip curls in a snarl, rage igniting within her.

With a swift, agile movement, Hart thrusts his staff forward, its tip piercing the fabric of her striking red and black dress, sending a ripple of torn silk through the air.

But before he can revel in a fleeting victory, she strikes back with ferocious speed.

A wicked whip unfurls from her hand, coiling like a serpent around his staff and clenching tight, rendering it useless against her overwhelming strength.

The atmosphere crackles with unspoken tension as she leans down, her eyes glinting with a predatory gleam as she snatches Hart’s hat from his head.

For a heartbeat, our gazes lock, her gaze as chilling as a winter’s breath.

She wraps her hand around his neck and yanks, a swift motion that echoes through the thick stillness, a brutal twist that severs him from life itself.

His head is gone, his body left standing for a moment longer, a nightmarish testament to her ruthless power.

Nash sucks in a breath next to me. Why? He knew what he was doing, right? Fuck. I glance at him with pleading eyes. Please tell me this was part of the plan.

His throat bobs. No... nope... not happening.

I open my mouth, ready to succumb to the genie’s demands for a wish for the first time. Apparently, my line is losing my loved ones. Yes, I love them. How could I not?

“Queen to K5,” he demands.

Me? He’s moving me? If I die, then I can’t make the wish. Won’t that leave him vulnerable? I shake my head. He leans over and kisses me hard. “Threefold, Daphne. I’m holding you to it.”

Meaning he expects me to live. I suck in a breath and face the Red Queen. “Queen to K5.”

She shakes her head as my piece moves. Why is she shaking her head? Unless...

“Checkmate,” Nash declares.

The board beneath us rumbles, and my fallen pieces zoom back onto the squares, their smashed bodies reforming before my eyes. It’s simultaneously the most joyful and terrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed.

My eyes slide closed, and I mutter a prayer. My feet hit the ground, and I race to Gwyneth, wrapping my arms around her and tackling her to the ground. She hugs me back. “I’m okay, I promise,” she whispers. “I’m here, I’m okay.”

I hate this place. I never thought I would miss Strongfair, but at least I knew the rules of the village. This place is a mindfuck.

We untangle ourselves and stand. Charming takes my place, nearly tripping over the capons in his haste as I search for Hart.

I throw myself into his waiting arms and slam my lips against his in a brutal kiss.

“You can’t leave me,” I snap. “I need you.” I love you, is what I want to say, but not here and now.

He holds my face between his palms and looks into my eyes. “I need you too, Calamity. You are the goodness in this cruel world. Never change.”