The Last Queen Book Two

by Odette C. Bell

  Several seconds later, he appears to be satisfied that I won’t suddenly fling myself from the wall. He arches an eyebrow. “It is clearly not an assumption. You are overtaxed and underpowered. And you have no idea how to break those whips,” he adds.

  There we go – he finally gave something away, even if he’s not aware of it.

  His choice of words tells me that there is a way to break through his spell.

  Though I don’t understand that much about chess, I appreciate that the horse can only move one way – in an L formation. That’s it. The queen? She can do everything else.

  I still don’t understand how these so-called games work. But I can appreciate that technically we aren’t trapped in one right now. There’s no crackling white and black squares beneath my feet. There’s just me and this man and his magic.

  I don’t give him the chance to realize that I’m figuring things out – I let my lips jerk open wide, and I force out a chuckle. “You think I would’ve really made it this far if I’m as ignorant as you believe?”

  He arches an eyebrow. I can only see it because it shifts his cheeks. “It is not a belief – it is a fact. One you confirm with every useless and desperate attempt to distract me.”

  “Tell me what will happen if you draw these other kings to my side – if you offer me up as a prize but I get away? Will that buy you more freedom? Or will it take it away?”

  He doesn’t answer. Though he always looks dark, I swear the shadows playing across his cheeks become all the grimmer.

  I’ve clearly hit a pain point. So all I have to do is keep hitting.

  “You’re right, I don’t understand what it is to be free and unattached, but I can appreciate this. You’re just one man. And though you have power that I don’t, something tells me that if enough kings gang up against you, that won’t matter. They’ll acquire you,” I say, taking particular pleasure in the word acquire. I put all my force behind it, let my lips snap around the word as if I’m grasping it with my very hands.

  The man reacts, taking a snapped step forward.

  I just stare down at him, unimpressed. “Something tells me that you have spent your entire life attempting to remain free. And you will not so easily adjust to being acquired,” again I put all of my effort into letting my lips snap around the word. I let all of my own fear at that concept well through me, too. It’s not enough that I can suddenly break through the white ropes holding me in place, but at least it imbues my tone with a sense of import.

  “I would not speak of things you do not understand, child,” he hisses.

  “But I’m not a child, am I? I’m the last Queen. And if I have no hope of staying out of those kings’ grasps, then what about you, horse?” Though I try to say the word like he did, I don’t get it right.

  It doesn’t matter. Because my words are affecting him. Though I can tell he’s trying to hold onto his nerve, the magic holding me in place wavers.

  It’s just for a fraction of a second. It’s certainly not enough that I can suddenly push forward and free myself. However, it is more than enough to reveal to me that I have hope.

  I just have to keep pushing.

  I focus all of my attention on the man, even though I know I should keep a scrap of my awareness locked on the city around me. Though I imagine that this man has cast some kind of manipulation spell to ensure that an ordinary citizen doesn’t chance upon us, that doesn’t mean that one of Spencer’s men won’t be able to see this fight.

  Though one of Spencer’s ordinary pawns may not be able to pierce the veil on the horse’s magic, Spencer’s second-in-command will be able to – I’m sure of that. And if he comes across me, he’s going to call Spencer. And if Spencer is still fighting with John, then his second in command will just attack.

  I have a window of opportunity. I have to get out of here now.

  I strain all the way forward, knowing that my cheeks become pale as my body starts to lose blood.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I hiss.

  He stares at me, or at least his head is angled my way – I still can’t make out his eyes. For, no matter how angry he becomes, and no matter how much magic spills over his face, I can never discern his eyes.

  I start to wonder if he even has any.

  “What am I forgetting?” he hisses back, and it’s a testament to how much I’m undermining him that he’s finally engaging in the conversation – that he gives a hoot about what I think.

  “That in handing me over to a king – even if it buys you your ultimate freedom – that you will change these games forever.” I speak with authority, even though I have no right to. I still have no idea what these games truly are – just that I’m somehow trapped in the middle of them, squeezed between John and Spencer.

  But again, I speak with authority – for again, I allow my mind to plunge right into the depths of my fear. I swear it laces my voice with magic, swear it makes it more compelling as the man clutches a hand into a fist. Even though his sleeves are long and should hide the move, I still see the unmistakable tension climbing up his back.

  “If you hand me over to whichever king pays the most, the world will change, won’t it? Maybe you’ll buy your freedom for another few years, but what then? You’ve only been able to stay unattached all this time because you kept out of people’s way, right? Because you’ve played a clever game and ensured you’ve given no one full loyalty, right?”

  Again he doesn’t answer.

  “So what happens when I become attached?”

  “I buy my ticket out of here,” he finally answers.

  There is something... unmistakable about his tone. For the first time since this conversation began, he’s unguarded. It makes him seem like a completely different man. For the shadowy darkness that always looms over him like a storm breaks. For a fraction of a second, I see something I did not expect to see – a man.

  Under the hat, under the coat, and, importantly, under the magic.

  Though I’ve been telling myself that I’m controlling this conversation, now I blink back. “What?”

  I’m not a fool. From the import behind his emotion, this man doesn’t mean that he will buy a ticket out of Rival City. No, he means this game, doesn’t he?

  Something shudders through me as I realize that’s even possible. Is there... a way out of here? A way out of magic? A way out of being the most powerful, coveted piece in a game I don’t want to play?

  It’s his turn to control the conversation completely as he rounds both hands into fists that poke out of his sleeves, and he takes a solid step forward.

  He angles his head all the way back, and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of his eyes. They are jet black – no whites, just black, inky pools of darkness.

  “If I offer you up for the right price, I will buy my way out of this game. Forever.”

  He spits his words.

  I know I pale. I know there’s nothing I can do to stop the surprise and shock from undermining me.

  I should try to regain control of my emotions and the conversation, but I can’t. Because what he’s suggesting reaches right inside and shakes me to the core.

  ... There’s a way out?

  There’s always been a way out of this world?

  Somehow he obviously knows what I’m thinking, because one corner of his lips curls into the cruelest smile imaginable. “Not for you. No one will ever allow you out of this game. You are too valuable. Your kind no longer exists anymore, because they have been coveted through the ages. You,” his voice punches out of his throat, and the white ropes holding me in place shudder, “will always be trapped.”

  I try to jerk against my restraints. For the first time since this conversation began, I truly try to fight. I let magic swirl over my body, encase me, fill me out from the inside out, and yet, despite the fact I call on my full power, it just isn’t enough.

  His lips crack all the way back, and a bellowing, barking laugh echoes from his throat. “You know nothing. A
nd that—” he looks right at me and holds my gaze, “will be your undoing and my salvation.” In a violent move, he swipes his hand to the side.

  The white ropes finally climb all the way around my throat, one covering my eyes. And they squeeze.

  I try to jerk away, desperate now as I feel suffocating pressure close around my throat. But there is nothing I can do.

  Just before the man can kill me, I start to slip into unconsciousness, and I feel the rope around my throat unravel.

  There is nothing I can do to keep awake.

  I fall.

  And I know when I wake my life will never be the same.

  Chapter 7

  It takes a long time to rouse.

  It’s dark, and though once upon a time I could see through the dark, for some reason I cannot penetrate the gloom that surrounds me. There is something exquisitely stifling about it, almost as if it is more than the mere lack of illumination and is somehow alive.

  I try to fight against it, but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I have no magic to call on.

  Suddenly, my eyes jerk as wide as they possibly can go. I also feel the ropes holding me in place.

  They have the same cold touch as the horse’s attack.

  I can move my head, but that’s about it, and I now allow my lips to crack open. “Are you out there?” I demand, proud my voice doesn’t waver with fear.

  But the fear is here – it’s all around me, inside me, all pervading. It’s making my heart thump at a million miles an hour, and I can barely breathe.

  Nobody answers.

  I’m left to my own devices, just staring into the darkness, wondering how screwed I am for at least another hour.

  Though my mind should be locked on the prospect of what the horse will do to me – just which king he’ll sell me to – there’s another thought that slams into my head.

  Though I don’t know how long chess games run, I can imagine that by now John has finished his match with Spencer, and he’s gone back to the tower.

  Before I started looking into Spencer, I sent John a text saying I was sick and I was going back home.

  John will look for me. And when he doesn’t find me?

  I clench my teeth and hiss through them.

  Finally, I hear something creak. It’s a door, and it’s on the opposite side of the room.

  For the first time since I woke an hour ago, I see a crack of light.

  My eyes are now so sensitized to the dark that that mere strip of illumination makes me jerk my head away and wince in pain.

  The door creaks all the way open, and I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure.

  It’s the horse.

  He is still in that long, ankle-length jacket, still has his hat on, even though we’re inside. And, more importantly, his body is still encased in a faint red magical glow.

  I can feel it – I don’t just need to see it. And yet, I’m still aware of the fact that I can barely produce any magic myself.

  The horse doesn’t say anything and simply stands in the doorway, shifting his head this way and that as he clearly assesses me in my prison.

  He takes one step in, and his feet press against a floorboard that creaks beneath him.

  Despite the fact he’s glowing and there’s light making it in from the hallway outside, for some reason, it can’t penetrate into the room, and I can’t see where I am.

  It has to be magic.

  Sure enough, as the horse takes several more steps into the room and stops in front of me, I can only barely make him out.

  The darkness – it has to be alive.

  ... And maybe it’s what’s stopping me from using my magic.

  He tilts his head down and stares at me. “It took you a long time to rouse. Perhaps you are not as powerful as you choose to believe.”

  I don’t answer him, just strain against the whips holding me in place so I stare up at him defiantly.

  I know he’s playing a game with me – this is where I should beg for him to let me go.

  But I won’t play.

  So the silence drags on until a cruel smile cracks his lips. “Don’t you want to know what will happen next?”

  “I know what will happen next,” I say, throat raspy as I try to push it against the tight whips holding me in place. “You’re going to auction me off to the highest bidder. But have you thought about what I said?” I demand.

  Though the darkness enshrouds him, and I have little magic to fight against it, I still rely on every sense I have, and it’s enough to see that his cheeks stiffen.

  I’ve hit another pain point, haven’t I?

  “You don’t understand this world,” he says flatly. “And nor do you have to. All you will have to do is follow the bidding of your master when I decide who that will be.”

  “And where exactly will you run when they take over the world?” I ask.

  It sounds crazy. Taking over the world? There would’ve been a time when I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. But I’ve seen it all now, and I know that with the power I possess, I can be used to do some devastating things indeed.

  “They will leave me alone,” he says flatly.

  “Why? When you opt out of this game – when you become a mere human,” I say carefully, emphasizing the words mere and human, “you will no longer have any strength to fight them off. Why would you rely on their goodwill?”

  I’ve hit yet another pain point, because it takes him a while to answer. I can see his cheeks stiffen even more, and I can also make out the line of his shoulders – his stance is harder, his balance more locked as if he’s worried that I’ll knock him off his feet with my very words. “You do not understand the rules of this game. When I make a deal for your life, the king I make it with will obey my wishes.”

  “And the other kings? What about Spencer Gates?” I spit, voice doing all sorts of crazy things as I force out his name.

  My heart rams harder in my chest, and I can almost feel something well up inside me, as if I’m trying to reach out a disembodied hand for him.

  Despite the fact that, intellectually, I know that it would be far better for me if John were to save my life, my body is still wired on Spencer, as if he’s a drug.

  “Though Spencer showed promise, and I may have allowed him to have you, he is too arrogant. He wasted the perfect opportunity I set up for him last time, anyway,” the horse adds.

  A chill races up my back as I realize something. “That was you? The Queen’s book of rules? That... freezing spell?”

  He smiles. “Yes, that was me. Spencer Gates is a lot of things, and though he is passionate, he’s also, underneath, a fool. I gave him one chance. He failed. That was all I owed him. Now I have captured you myself, it is up to me who I choose to give you to.”

  He’s talking about me as if I’m some kind of prize – like a large diamond or a sack of cash.

  I don’t let my stomach twist at the thought. I know there’s no point. I can’t allow myself to feel indignation – it won’t help me now. Only keeping my head on my shoulders will and finding some way to break through whatever’s stopping me from producing magic.

  “Where did you find that book, anyway?”

  “Understand this – I have no intention of answering your questions. It is for the benefit of both myself and your ultimate master that you remain ignorant,” he says snidely.

  Again, I don’t react. He wants me to scream and cry, doesn’t he? He wants to push my pain points and see me writhe. But I’m going to push him, instead.

  “Spencer may be a lot of things, but you’re right, he’s passionate – and passion leads to foolish actions. When he finds out what you’re doing here, don’t you think he’s going to act? What if he sweeps in and steals me before you have a chance to auction me off to the highest bidder? What do you think he’ll do to you then?”

  “You overestimate Spencer’s abilities.”

  “Maybe I do. But what about John Rowley?” Though I can’t keep my voice even when
ever I speak of Spencer, now my tone does something completely different. It sounds strong – and the mere fact of that makes me stronger as I finally tilt my head all the way back, angling my chin until it feels as if it’s a sword I’m jutting out at the horse. “He saw me tonight, saved me from Spencer. He knows I’m out here, and he wants me just as much as any other king does. He’s also much smarter than Spencer. Don’t you think he’ll figure this out? And what then?”

  “I will make a deal with John – I will make a deal with any king who gets in my way. I will find what they need, and I will give it to them.”

  I want to keep pushing, but this man has an answer for everything.

  I pause, and it’s a mistake.

  I hear him let out a tight little chuckle that sounds like somebody grating a rasp over metal. “Are you out of answers already? Are you finally starting to appreciate what lies ahead for you, Last Queen?”

  I shiver at that term. It makes me think of a fact I’ve not had the opportunity to explore yet. Why exactly am I the last queen? I mean, like I said before, I don’t know the rules of chess that well, but usually, for every king, you have a queen. And while queens are nowhere near as numerous as pawns, why would I be the last one left?

  There’s obviously something about my silence, because he chuckles. “You want to know what happened to the rest of your kind, don’t you?” he asks.

  I don’t answer, even though my gut lurches. After all, he’s already told me multiple times that he has no intention of lifting the veil of my ignorance.

  This time, it must be different, because he takes one more step into the room and shoves a hand into the deep pocket of his jacket. “The answer is that your kind has been coveted throughout the years. With their ability to learn every other spell of every other player, save for the horses, you are the piece that is in greatest demand. Wars have been fought over your kind, child,” he says.

  “So why am I the last? Where did I come from? And what happened to the rest of my kind?”