Of Thorns and Beauty by Elle Madison

Chapter Seventeen

Idon’t know how long I pound my fingers along the polished ivory and onyx before I finally force myself to stop. Missing my sisters, worrying for them — it solves nothing.

I am marveling at the rare feeling of a bead of sweat on my brow in this icebox when Khijhana lets out a low growl. Her ears fold back, and she lifts slightly off her haunches, as though she’s ready to pounce.

I don’t have to wonder long what’s riled her up. Odger, the man from the feast with the silver star on his mask, glides into the room. His gloved hands are giving me a muted, polite clap, and I am nearly off-kilter enough to tell him exactly where he can put his praise.

But I still my tongue, because I may yet need him for information.

Instead, I rest a placating hand on Khijha’s head and incline mine in gratitude.

“I didn’t know our new queen was an aficionado,” he says in his oily tone.

“Consort,” I correct with a bland smile, as though I don’t remember him emphasizing the title at the banquet or don’t realize that he is merely trying to flatter me now that we are in private.

“Of course.” He feigns chagrin. “My mistake.”

“Think nothing of it,” I say, rising to my feet.

“Allow me to make it up to you over a game?” he gestures to a cup of dice at the nearest table.

He wants to play games, all right, but to what end?

Well, it’s not as though I have anything better to do.

“That does sound nice, but perhaps you would indulge me with a different sort of game.” I choose my words carefully and infuse my smile with more warmth this time, crinkling my eyes and allowing my lips the slightest pout.

“What did you have in mind?” He stalks closer, like the predator I know he is, and I fight the urge to cringe.

I point to the chess board.

“I haven’t played in ages,” I say truthfully, pushing back memories of the man who taught me to play. “But it could be fun.”

He hesitates before answering.

“I’ll go easy on you, I promise.” His voice drips with charm, and I am certain if I could see his lips, they would be tilted in false self-deprecation.

“Well, if you promise.” I glance demurely at him through lowered lashes and take my seat.

Khijhana stays glued to my side, never moving from between Odger and me, and it draws his attention.

He whistles.

“I had heard that he found you a chalyx, but I’ve never actually seen one in person.”

Look at him, being useful already.

“I assumed they were common here,” I respond truthfully as he sets up the board.

“They aren’t common anywhere,” he says. Then, he shakes his head, likely because he realizes he nearly complimented the king. “I’m surprised you chose this game. Most women don’t play chess.”

He means the words as a compliment, so I pretend to take them that way instead of acknowledging that his tone tells me he would feel the same way if I had told him Khijhana wanted to play.

“I suppose I’m not most women,” I respond, the words a curious echo of my conversation with Einar. “Though, you hardly seem to be most men, either.”

“Oh?” He stills.

“You seem to have almost no accent. Have you always lived here?”

He puffs out his chest before he answers.

“Jokith has always been my home, but I served as the king’s ambassador for decades.”

I shouldn't be surprised by his age when I know Einar’s, but it constantly awes me how long the Jokithans live. It was a mystery of their lineage even Madame could never solve, one that seemed tied to the land itself.

Then, I register the rest of what he said.

“Are you the ambassador who chose me?” I ask, taking my time moving my knight directly into his line of fire.

He laughs, a sound that slithers along my spine.

“I would never have wasted your beauty on a man like Einar.”

I pretend to miss the way he leaves out the king’s title.

“You flatter me,” I say, because I can hardly tell him the truth, that he revolts me.

We banter meaninglessly over a few turns, long enough for me to confirm exactly what kind of player he is. He’s a coward.

He’s all underhanded moves and defensive strategy, waiting for even an unskilled opponent to happen upon one of his many traps. It tells me all I need to know about how to steer this conversation. All I have to do is wait for the opening in his increasingly blatant flirtations.

“Surely, you didn’t think I could let that move stand,” he says, capturing the knight I’ve sacrificed for this very reason. “Of course, with a face like yours, I doubt you’ve encountered much resistance in the past.”

I shoot him a saucy look.

“And what of your face, Sir? Surely, it’s a travesty to hide it away from the world.”

If there’s any resentment toward the king on this matter, he’ll be showing it right about now. Instead, he goes still. I think, perhaps, I’ve been too forward until he lets out a small sigh.

“Indeed, I long for the time when I can display my features before the world. But there are worse things, I suppose.”

I don’t think it’s my imagination that his banal chatter is more subdued after that, or that he speeds up the game more than he might have. I don’t push anymore, though, unwilling to lose the only person who has actually consented to talk to me.

Before he announces his win, my chalyx raises back up on her haunches, only this time, her head is cocked slightly to the side and her ears remain upright. This time, I have a feeling I know exactly who is on his way in.