I sit there and stare. The fight is over.
For a few seconds, I still can’t move, and terror pulses through my heart as I wonder if I’ll ever be able to wrench myself free from this throne.
But then I hear a crack, and the invisible magic holding me in place seems to subside. I lurch to my feet just as the throne disappears behind me.
I stand there, swaying back and forth as John’s magic leaves me. I draw up my hand and stare as the last few faint blue-white flecks of his light disappear like fireflies dying in the night.
I stare from my hand across to the chessboard. It’s lying by my feet.
Then? Finally? I look over at John.
I take a step toward him, then another.
Though I still have that desire to run away from him, it’s nowhere near as strong as my desire to approach as I finally get down on one knee and press the back of my hand against his lips.
I can feel the subtle, gentle, warm caress of his breath.
I stare at him.
I... don’t want to leave.
And yet I can’t stay.
“I can’t stay,” I force the words out of my mouth as I jerk up, intending to do one thing – run. Run and never stop running.
But even though, seconds before, John hadn’t shown any sign of rousing, before I can stand, his hand suddenly snakes out, and he clasps his fingers around my wrist.
At first fear ricochets through my chest, but it’s a fear that can’t last as soon as it reaches my heart.
Slowly, as if it’s the hardest thing in the world, John’s eyes open, and he locks his languid, fatigued gaze on me.
There’s recognition there in his pupils, but it’s dimmed by his injuries. “Wait,” he says.
I know I can easily break his grip. All it would take is a single tug of my arm.
... And yet, I kneel there, and I stare at him. “... I won’t let you acquire me,” I say. “I won’t let you use me,” I add.
His breathing is labored, and it’s obvious he’s having a hell of a time keeping his eyes open, let alone retaining his grip on my wrist. “No, wait. Let me explain one thing.”
My eyebrows clunk down. “What?”
“You must stop running.”
“... Why?” Maybe what he’s doing is deliberately playing me to keep me close – gaming my curiosity to ensure I don’t take this opportunity to leave.
I know that... and yet I still can’t leave. I stare at him, trying not to be drawn in by his tender grip around my wrist.
“You can’t keep imprinting kings,” he says.
My heart stops. “What do you mean?”
“That imprinting costs you. It costs your magic. It costs your will,” he adds, and though it’s clear he’s still almost completely overcome by his fatigue, his lips move sharply around the word will.
It’s enough to see a charge of nerves ignite up my back. “... What?”
“The more you imprint, the harder it will be to turn away. If you keep doing it, very soon, you will run out of mental defenses. And then...” he doesn’t finish.
He doesn’t need to.
He takes a rattling gasp, and his grip finally falls.
My eyes widen with worry, but I know he hasn’t died – his chest is still moving slowly in and out.
I shift up, go to move away, but just as I stand, one of his eyes cracks open. “Sooner rather than later, you are going to have to make a decision. Choose me,” he says.
And then John Rowley falls unconscious.
I take a jerked step back, then another, then another. I never allow my eyes to close. It’s almost as if I think that if they close, John will disappear.
It’s not John disappearing that I have to worry about.
Because as I take one more step away from him, that desire in my heart to run finally overcomes the desire to remain close.
I force myself to turn. I run away.
Out of Rowley Tower, out into the streets of Rival City.
Far off, dawn is finally cracking over the horizon.
It brings with it a chill, cold wind as dark clouds race in from the mountains behind the city.
I run, and I don’t stop running.
I don’t know where I’ll go. I don’t know if I can even leave Rival City.
And God knows I don’t know what will happen next.
And yet, as I run, I swear I can feel one thing. A new energy.
A new presence entering Rival City. A new king starting a new game.
For the man the horse auctioned me off to will come to Rival City, even if he isn’t here yet.
And he will be just another player in this twisted game.
Though I don’t want to accept what John said, a part of me knows he’s right. Sooner rather than later I will have to choose a king.
For this destiny will now hunt me down relentlessly.
The end of The Last Queen Book Two. The Last Queen Book Three will be available on 18 September 2017.
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The Last Queen Book Two Page 15
