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It was now mid-October, and nearly two months had passed since my failed attempt to rescue my brother. I hadn’t seen him or the King since that awful night, and my time here had turned more disagreeable than ever.
With the exception of Marin, everyone hated me and went out of their way to ensure I knew it, so these past few weeks had been exceedingly annoying.
My dormitory companions left snakes and scorpions under the covers of my cot, soiled my spare uniform when I wasn’t there, and pulled all the platters away at meal time so I couldn’t serve myself. It was during training that I suffered everyone’s dislike the most, though this was all child’s-play to me.
The other Pawns turned vicious, ganging up on Jigsaw and me on the race track and thrusting their swords as if to kill as we sparred. If they hadn’t killed me yet, it was because of their contracts, but sometimes I wondered if they might actually do it and call it an accident.
For his part, Knight Traian seemed determined to make sure I made up for all the weeks of training I’d been allowed to skip due to my quick ascension to Fourth Pawn. He made me run harder and longer than he did the others. He forced me to muck out the entire stable. He assigned me guarding duties at the front gates more than he did anyone else. He even had me clean the dormitory and facilities, despite the fact that there were other people responsible for these tasks.
The hardest part, though, was that poor Jigsaw was also paying for my mistakes. He was innocent and didn’t deserve to suffer for my sake. I had to check on him constantly, lest he went without food and water, or a rock was placed in his horseshoe with the intent of hobbling him.
So right now—seeing as I couldn’t have a moment of peace, always imagining something bad happening to the poor beast—I was on my way to do just that.
The late afternoon was pleasantly cool, and the path a bit wet from an earlier shower. I was quite enjoying my walk, when, a distance from the stables, I had to stop by a tree to remove a rock from my boot. This had been a common annoyance lately, which made me suspect the same creative person who was trying to ruin Jigsaw’s hooves was trying to ruin my own feet. I’d been finding the small pebbles in my shoes almost every day, which made me realize I needed to be more careful as the idiot might soon decide to employ a poisonous spider instead.
Two tiny but jagged rocks fell onto my hand as I tipped the boot over. I flung them aside and was about to replace my shoe when I noticed Datcu, the Rook from the Second Quadrant, walking out of the servants’ building, a structure that housed their dormitories as well as the kitchens where our meals were prepared. The place was surrounded by a low wall with a small courtyard where supply wagons pulled in at least three times a week.
All types of goods were delivered to the compound in this manner: fresh fruit and vegetables, grain, flour, meat, and more. From what I’d observed, it was Datcu’s job to make sure everything was in order. In fact, he appeared to be carrying out this duty just now.
Walking out of the courtyard, he glanced all around. I pulled back, peering from behind the tree trunk. Once he seemed satisfied there was no one nearby, he squatted next to a tree, pulled something from under his jacket and hid it.
I frowned, intrigued by his actions. What was he doing?
He went back into the courtyard. A few servants came out through the kitchen door and, instructed by the Rook, took goods out of the wagon and went back into the building. As all the servants disappeared, Datcu pulled something out of the wagon, rushed back out, and hid it by the tree.
Slipping on my boot, I hurried around the perimeter and—as Rook Datcu went back inside to instruct the servants—I ran toward the tree, hunched low to the level of the courtyard wall, and peered into his hiding spot.
I had to look twice to spot two bottles of amber-colored spirits tucked between a hollow made by the tree’s gnarled roots.
My thoughts took off at a fast run. What was happening here? I went around the bend, retreating out of sight, my thoughts still bouncing inside my skull.
Rook Datcu was stealing. There was wine for the Rooks and Knights, but I’d never seen spirits, which meant he was taking supplies meant for the Bishops or the King himself.
Oh, Datcu, Datcu. What a bad subject you are.
An idea started taking shape. Something that involved causing a little chaos in this godsforsaken place.
Everyone thought they had such a wonderful arrangement and lived content with their ranks and their benefits. The Black Board had been undisturbed for years, the only movement happening amongst the Challengers and Pawns. At higher levels, Rook Sanda, from my Quadrant, was the newest member, and he’d already been a Rook for two decades. No doubt they’d grown too comfortable.
A smile stretched across my lips. Maybe it was time for some of the exploits King Maximus was expecting.
Leaving my hiding place, I walked back toward the tree just as Datcu finished hiding another bottle in his little den.
“How many is that, Rook Datcu?” I asked in a jovial tone.
He jumped to his feet and whirled in my direction, his red-tinted eyes practically flying out of their sockets.
“What are you talking about?” he said, trying to appear innocent.
I gestured toward the tree. “Bottles of spirits,” I said. “What else?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, removing his bowler hat and scratching his head.
I chuckled. “Sure you do,” I said, glancing toward the dining hall, in the back of which the Knights kept their offices.
“Oh, well,” he scratched his head again, a dumb expression on his pale features, “it’s just a few. Nothing anyone will miss.”
I leaned in closer. “Is it any good? I hope so, because that’s a big risk you’re taking.”
“Well, I don’t know,” he said, glancing dubiously toward the tree.
He was trying to make me think this was the first time he’d done this, but something told me he was lying. If I wasn’t mistaken, he did this regularly.
Was it all for himself? Or did he share it with others in his Quadrant?
I nodded, acting as if I believed him. “Enjoy it.” I winked, conspiratorially. I mimed putting a lock on my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.” I turned to leave.
“Wait!”
I glanced over my shoulder.
“Thank you,” he said, approaching, his eyes darting in every direction. “I really appreciate it. And just for that, I’ll share some with you.”
“No, you don’t have to do that,” I said, thinking I didn’t want to get caught with my hands on the King’s supplies.
He laughed and patted my shoulder as if we were the best of friends. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” he said, the hint of a threat in his voice.
I walked away and headed for the stables to give Jigsaw his dinner before it was time for mine.
Later, in the dining hall, I ate my roast beef, vegetable, and barley, sitting next to Marin while he talked about visiting his mother during the Hallows Eve celebrations. Rook Datcu sat across the hall at his Quadrant’s table. He glanced in my direction several times, even raised his tankard once, acknowledging me.
Maybe I’d made a mistake getting involved in his clandestine business. As if I didn’t have enough with the members of my own Quadrant making my life impossible. In any case, I wasn’t here on vacation. Whatever advantage I could gain over these people was a good thing. Maybe this knowledge would help me later somehow.
Finishing my dinner quickly, I left the dining hall before anyone else. Outside it was dark, no moon to illuminate the way back to the dormitory. Servants had begun lighting torches around the compound, but they had started closer to the palace and hadn’t made it this way yet.
I followed the pathway, taking care not to stray from it. I was almost to my dormitory when someone approached from behind, drove me out of the path, and pushed me against the outer wall of the building, knocking the air from my lungs.
“Shh.” Rook Datcu’s face appeared in front of mine, one of his thick fingers resting across my lips. “Don’t make a peep,” he said in a tone that was a mixture of amusement and threat.
I nodded.
Where the hell had he come from? I knew Rooks could move fast thanks to King Maximus’s blood, but this was ridiculous. I had left him in the dining room, and I hadn’t heard him at all until he was upon me.
He removed his finger from my mouth. “You didn’t rat me out.”
“I said I wouldn’t. I’m a man of my word.”
“I see that.” He smiled, slipping something into my jacket. “Keep it that way,” he said, then was gone in the blink of an eye.
I stood there for a moment, heart thundering inside my chest, eyes blinking at the dark night. After a moment, I reached into my jacket and pulled out what Datcu had left there.
It was a metal flask made of silver and carved with the Black Court’s coat of arms, the words Semper Tenebris etched across the bottom. I unscrewed the cap and sniffed its contents. I winced at the sharp smell of what must be spirits. I thought of taking a swig. I felt like I needed it after that scare but, in the end, I decided against it. What if it was poisoned? That would be an easy way for Datcu to get rid of me. Not only that, no one would ever suspect him.
Making sure no one was looking, I dug a hole under one of the hedges that surrounded my dormitory and buried the flask. I didn’t want anyone finding it among my belongings and, for all I knew, that was Datcu’s plan.
No way was I falling for it.