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A terribly sweet smell permeated my dreams. The path I’d been walking on suddenly turned into an orchard. Trees heavy with fruit sprang from the ground one after the next. Their leaves rustled in the wind, and the honeyed scent of their fruit made my mouth water.
Slowly, the dream faded. I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was an angelic little face.
Timotei!
Had I died and gone to heaven? No. That would mean my brother would have to be dead, too, and I knew better than that. Maximus would not let his favorite Trove die.
“Hi, Nyro,” he said in a small, shy voice.
I glanced around, confused. I was on a large bed in a room I’d never seen. This was not the infirmary. I’d been there a few times to treat cuts and bruises, and this was not it. The canopy bed, the curtained windows, and the blond woman standing by my bedside clued me in—not to mention the child sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching me intently.
I was inside the Black Palace. With the King’s Troves.
Scrambling to a sitting position, I pressed my back against a cushioned backboard. As the sheets slipped off of me, I realized I was naked. Talyssa’s eyes widened and traveled down my torso, then lower.
I snatched the covers and pulled them up to my chest.
A deep chuckle sounded from the back of the room. “So modest.”
Maximus came into view and stopped at the foot of the bed. A strange sensation filled my chest, like restlessness and yielding combined. Three pairs of eyes watched me expectantly. My mind reeled as I tried to understand my situation.
I was in a bedroom in the Black Palace, and I... I wasn’t hurting anywhere.
Forgetting about the sheets, I let them go and patted my ribs, my face.
“What...?” I began, but then I knew.
My gaze lifted to the King’s. He blinked slowly, a small smile twisting his lips. “You are welcome,” he said.
“Why? Why do you break your own rules for me?” I demanded.
Maximus didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his back on me and walked toward one of the many windows that lined the room.
“Give him the mirror, Talyssa,” he instructed.
She reached slowly toward the night table, her slender, pale hand trembling slightly. I should have been worried about the purpose of the mirror, but I was suddenly distracted by Timotei and the hopeful twinkle in his eyes.
“Hey, rascal,” I said, looking him over.
“Hey,” he said with a quick head bob.
I reached out and took his hand in mine. I hadn’t seen him since my challenge to become First Pawn. He was a bit pale with circles under his eyes, but I’d seen him in worse shape. Maybe he was growing stronger despite... despite serving as Maximus’s blood slave. He had always been resilient. A fighter.
Shame washed over me. I’d stop fighting for him, and here he was still adapting, doing his best to survive. My cowardice knew no boundaries.
Talyssa extended the mirror in my direction. I glanced away from my brother and stared at the silver-plated object with a frown. The expression on her face was much different from Timotei’s. There was nothing hopeful in her blue eyes. Nothing at all.
Dread crawled up my chest like a creeping spider.
I took the mirror and stared into it. What stared back felt like a stab into my heart as if deadly, venomous pincers had latched onto it and were trying to snap it in two.
My eyes were red, not glowing like the King’s, but still red.
“What have you done?!” I demanded.
Startled, Timotei pushed away from me and got off the bed. He pressed his small hands to the tall mattress and watched me from a distance. His fear should have curbed my anger, but it only made it worse.
I flung the mirror across the room. Talyssa yelped and backed away. The mirror crashed against the wall and shattered, its silver frame clattering to the floor.
“What have you done?!” I asked again, jumping to my feet and standing naked on a thick rug.
I was facing the King, my chest heaving, but he ignored me and continued staring out the window, impassive.
“I didn’t want this,” I growled.
“Nyro, he saved you,” Timotei said, tears wavering in his eyes.
“No!” I yelled, fists clenching as my anger grew.
“He did,” Timotei said. “Your lung had a hole in it from a broken rib. You were dying.”
“I wanted to die!” I blurted out without thinking.
Timotei shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks. But I didn’t care what he thought, what my confession did to him, all I wanted was to...
I ran toward the King and lunged. I was there in an instant, my muscles feeling as if they would burst from the power trapped in them. I reached for his neck, ready to strangle him, but before I could, Maximus whirled, grabbed me by the shoulders and smashed me against the ground as if I were nothing but a weak child.
As I tried to get back up, he leaned down and pressed a hand to my chest, pinning me down.
“Calm down, Nyro,” he said in a soothing voice that slithered into my ears like a damn snake.
The power I’d felt in my muscles quieted down, leaving me limp on the floor. I grabbed Maximus’s wrist and tried to wrench it away, but it was like trying to pull on a plastered column.
I bared my teeth at the bastard. He hadn’t only stolen my death, he had also stolen my humanity.
“I didn’t choose this,” I said between clenched teeth.
“Ah, but you did, dear Nyro. The day you chose to join my Board, you signed your life over to me. Remember?”
I wanted to deny it, but it was true. I had signed in blood, when I could have very well walked away. But what other choice had I’d been given? He had taken Timotei. Besides, I hadn’t been a coward then. I’d still been brave enough to fight for my brother.
Growling in frustration, I scratched and shoved Maximus’s arm to no avail.
“You really need to calm down,” he said in a patient tone. “You’re upsetting the boy.” He glanced toward Timotei, who had backed away from the bed and was now peeking from behind the folds of a curtain.
Seeing him there, scared of his own brother, broke something in me. Tears sprang to my eyes.
“I didn’t want this.” I covered my face with both hands to stifled the sob that broke from my lips. “What am I? What have you made of me?”
The pressure on my chest eased, then was gone. The King stepped away. A blubbering man was no threat, so why bother to keep me down?
“You’re naught but a Rook,” Maximus answered. “Is not that bad?”
I peeled my hands away from my face and stared at him. “I can’t be,” I said, stupidly. “There already are two Rooks in your court.”
He waved a hand in the air as if that were a trifling matter. “That is nothing to worry about. Rooks die all the time.”
I sat up, head swimming.
Rooks die all the time?
“As a matter of fact,” he said, approaching Timotei and pulling him away from the curtain, “I had word earlier that White Rook Neculai died in a tragic accident today.”
The image of Bianca standing next to the dead Rook’s body flashed before my eyes. Blood and guts and brain matter smeared on the cobblestones. My stomach twisted. I licked my lips and glanced in Talyssa’s direction. She hugged herself and stared at the rug under her feet.
I grabbed my head and squeezed. I wanted to scream, pound my skull against the wall, undo what had been done to me.
“Sit here, pet,” Maximus said, gently lifting Timotei into a golden upholstered chair. He patted my brother’s head, then wiped a tear from his cheek. “Your brother will be just fine. I promise. He just needs a little time to... process.”
Timotei peered up at the creature who caged him, who made food out of him, and nodded, that same hopeful twinkle back in his eyes.
More tears spilled down my face, hot and with a mind of their own. And while my eyes wept, my heart hardened, and I felt nothing.
The King turned away from my brother and faced me. “And don’t you worry about a thing either, Nyro. Bishop Dragoslav will take care of Rook Datcu. He will meet his own tragic end in the next few days.”