Page 38 of Love Is A Draw (Check Mates #2)
The Chessman’s Chronicles
Special Edition: An Announcement to Turn Kings Pale and Knights Giddy
The ink has barely dried on the most thrilling chess match ever played on the docks of London—where the Black Knights stunned not just the customs officials but the entire nation— a Jewish couple from Bessarabia has won the Boardsmen’s Tournament and taken the title from Gregory Stone, Earl of Ashby—formerly the Black Knight.
We are pleased to confirm the next excitement stirring in London: Avigail Tarkov and Victor Romanov, known henceforth as The Black Knights, currently residing (and rumored to be scandalously in love) under the generous roof of the Earl and Countess of Ashby, are preparing to host the most ambitious tournament in recent history.
They are to be joined by none other than Dmitry Tarkov, the man once thought lost in the Pale of Settlement, now very much alive as a chess legend, upright, and, according to our sources, even more formidable than the myths suggest.
Set to take place on English soil—with whispers of a royal venue—the tournament promises to attract talent from every corner of the globe. Even a prince from India has made tentative inquiries.
One thing is certain: this will not be a polite English affair. This will be a battle of minds, a feast of strategy, and—if we are very lucky—perhaps a rematch or two that will keep the ton talking until next Season.
So polish your pawns, dear readers. The game is far from over.
D usk settled like a veil over Vauxhall Gardens.
Beyond the gates, the last strains of music drifted faintly—flutes, laughter, the trill of a soprano fading into the summer night.
But here, on the far edge where the lanterns burned low and the grass ran uneven underfoot, another gathering had begun.
Tables, borrowed and carried out from the kitchens, stood crooked in the meadow.
Upon them, chessboards gleamed, their carved pieces catching the lanternlight.
Children circled them, wary at first, as though these boards were doors to worlds they could not yet enter.
Some clutched one another’s hands; some stood alone, faces sharp from hunger, hair uncombed, eyes darting as if expecting to be chased away.
Victor stood among them, a box of pieces balanced in his hand.
He set it down gently and opened the lid.
The scent of wood polish rose faintly, familiar and anchoring, a reminder of all the cities where he had once done the same.
But never like this. Never for children who looked at him as if he were a conjurer and the board his stage.
He met the gaze of the boy he remembered—the boy who had once gripped a knife with those same scarred hands. Now the boy hovered at the edge of a table, wary, uncertain. Victor slid the white pieces toward him.
“You go first,” he said, voice steady, unyielding. “Tonight, the Black Knight gives you the opening.”
The boy’s mouth opened in disbelief. Slowly, the boy’s fingers closed around a pawn and nudged it forward. A move so small, yet enough to shift the air around them.
At another table, Gail bent beside a girl whose eyes were wide as moons. The child’s fingers trembled as she touched a pawn. Gail steadied the small hand in her own. “It moves straight,” she explained, guiding the piece, “but it takes diagonally. Do you see? Two ways of being strong at once.”
The girl frowned in concentration, then gasped softly as the meaning clicked. Gail smiled, the warmth of it catching in her chest. Her grandfather had once said the same words to her. Passing them on now felt like a victory greater than any trophy.
Nearby, Dmitry, broad-shouldered and loud as ever, had drawn a crowd of his own. Three children clustered around his board, their heads bumping as they leaned close. When one attempted to cast across an impossible gap, Dmitry barked a laugh so loud a bird startled from the hedges.
“Bold! I like bold,” he said, clapping the boy’s shoulder. “But even kings must follow rules. Protect the king, eh? Then—attack.” His Russian accent rolled, foreign yet rich, making the children grin as though he had given them a secret worth keeping.
And Maia, sharp little sweetness, had taken a seat opposite a solemn boy twice her size.
Her braid bounced as she leaned forward, eyes fierce, queen already on the march.
“Check,” she announced, chin tilted, pride radiating from her small frame.
The boy blinked, uncertain whether to laugh or bow.
The other children cheered, and Maia’s smile widened, triumphant and unshaken.
Rachel Pearler arrived last, her grace unmistakable even without the finery she often wore.
Two servants trailed her, baskets in hand.
She gave no speeches, made no gesture of magnanimity.
She simply directed the baskets to be set down, their lids lifted to reveal sweet buns and apples, steam still curling from the bread.
“One thinks better in chess on a full stomach,” Rachel said lightly.
And just like that, the children fell upon the food, buns vanishing between hands and bites taken mid-game, laughter bubbling fuller now.
No one thanked her, and she did not expect it.
The thanks were in the children’s eagerness, in the crumbs falling onto chessboards, in the way the apple juice dripped down a boy’s chin as he moved his knight with newly-learned care.
Victor looked up from his table, pausing to take it all in.
The boy who once carried a knife now carried a white queen.
A girl with torn boots lifted her rook as though it were a banner.
Dmitry was roaring again, Rachel overseeing quietly, Maia beaming as if she’d conquered an empire when she mated the boy who was older and taller than her.
And Gail—his Gail—was kneeling in the grass beside a child, patient, radiant, every inch of her lit with the joy of teaching.
Victor’s chest ached, but not from fear or loss. It was something brighter. Not the triumph of winning, but the triumph of giving.
“This,” Gail whispered beside him, as if she, too, understood the moment, “this is the real way that chess is like life.” Like love. It’s the only thing in the world that increases when shared.
Victor’s hand sought hers, lacing their fingers together.
“I have an idea,” he said quietly, his gaze sweeping the meadow alive with laughter, boards, and possibility.
Dmitry’s eyes gleamed toward a horizon wider than London, Rachel’s servants poured cider into wooden cups, children leaned over pawns as if they held crowns in their hands.
“We’ll try to open the tournament to more than international players. We’ll open it up to all. This is only the beginning.”
The series continues in Brilliance and Glory, Check Mates book 3 with Prince Krishna of India and Lady Despina, Baron von List’s captivating and rebellious cousin, as they enter the international chess tournament and discover that the fiercest battles are the ones fought within their own hearts.
Thank you for reading Victor and Gail’s love story. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a review.