CHAPTER 24

URBAN

The next evening, I felt antsy and unfulfilled; I needed something to occupy my mind. Talking to Vienne, learning more about her, and teasing her had given me a high that had surged through my veins like a drug. But the aftereffects were beginning to wear off.

I wanted more.

What was worse, my body craved sex to the extreme. It’d been too long, and I couldn’t stop thinking about her or dreaming about her.

To combat the itchiness, I decided chess was going to be my vice to alleviate the restlessness this evening. But when I strode into the dining hall, my dueling partner was not present where she usually sat.

I slowed to a stop, frowning at her empty seat.

“Where’s Nicolette?”

Yasmin sent me a catty smile. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Prince Urban,” she didn’t seem sorry at all to inform me, “but you won’t be able to have your little chess game tonight. Nicolette sent a message saying she was feeling under the weather; I’m afraid she shan’t be joining us for dinner.”

Damn. I’d really needed to trounce someone on the chess board, too.

Sending the queen a tight smile, I said, “No worries. I’ll just have Allera play me in her stead.”

Allera lifted her face from where she’d been whispering and giggling with Brentley. “Oh, no…” she said, shaking both her head and her hands. “I’ll never play that dreadful game against you again. You never let me ~win~.”

I snorted as I took my seat next to her. “I’m not supposed to ~let~ you win; that’s the point. You’re supposed to beat me on your own. I never let Nicolette win either, but ~she~ still adores playing me.”

“Then Nicolette has far more fortitude than I. Because I refuse.”

“Brentley?” I glanced past her to her husband with a pleading expression. “You’ll play me, won’t you?”

“Yes, I think not,” Brentley answered with an easy laugh. “Allera’s told me too many horror stories.”

That earned my sister an exasperated glance. “Stories that I’m sure were ~embellished~,” I bit out. “Now be a good chap and humor your poor brother-in-law for a spot of fun, would you?”

Allera blurted out a harsh laugh. “Fun? More like mental slaughter, you mean. You’re ruthless.”

“And again, I say, ~Nicolette~ adores playing against me.”

“Well, sorry, but I have plans for my husband after dinner,” Allera told me with a gloating smirk as she set her hand possessively on Brentley’s arm. In response, he turned a bright, beaming red and couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “So find another target to bully.”

I grimaced, not at all pleased by how suggestive her plans sounded. I honestly didn’t want to know when she and her husband wanted to do ~that~.

Immediately turning toward Caulder, I beseeched, “Your Majesty…”

But he merely lifted a hand and shook his head. “I think not, Prince Urban. A king must feel as if he’s the best at everything he does, and I don’t foresee you allowing me that pleasure if we played.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t,” I said good-naturedly. “Because it’s never wise to think you’re completely invincible. None of us are getting out of this world alive; it would suit us well to fall every now and again. Makes us heartier and teaches us how to get back up again and dust ourselves off. Keep going. Live as long as we can.”

“Hmm. And here, I have a feeling ~some~ of us will fall sooner than others,” Soren put in with a leer, making Yasmin laugh.

I sent him a glance, not able to glare at him as I usually would because I could see too much of his wife next to him in my peripheral vision.

She looked lovely tonight, wearing a flowing dress that seemed to change from a pale pink to a pale blue, depending on how the light hit it. Her hair was down and spilled over bare shoulders, making me want to nuzzle into the warmth I knew I could find at her neck.

So, yes, irritation was impossible to grasp whenever I could see a glimpse of all that.

“Indeed,” was all I said with an acquiescing nod.

But Soren, of course, drew some kind of threat from my words. His eyes narrowed and mouth pursed before the most unexpected voice said, “May I play you?”

For a beat, utter silence filled the hall.

Then I swerved my gaze to Vienne, words failing me. “I… You… What?” Certainly, ~she~ hadn’t just spoken.

Next to her, Soren snorted out a hard laugh. “You must be joking.”

Vienne glanced at him curiously before slowly shaking her head. “Not at all. I’ve always enjoyed a friendly game of chess.”

Allera snorted. “Friendly?”

I cut my sister a glare before turning back to Vienne. “I must warn you, I’ve been told my chess playing is quite… aggressive.” I have no idea why I said that. I didn’t want to dissuade her. As soon as she’d brought up the possibility, I realized I wanted this, desperately. More than anything.

“You’re competitive,” Vienne said, her nod accepting. “I can handle that.”

“Well, I can’t,” Soren growled. “I forbid it.”

My jaw tightened in an effort to keep quiet, even though I wanted to call him out for his tyrannical command. No, honestly, forget wanting to ~say~ anything; I mostly just wanted to punch him in the jaw.

“Why?” Vienne asked her husband curiously. “It’s all quite harmless. Even Yasmin stopped having maids chaperone Nicolette and him while ~they~ played. And if those two have been deemed a safe match, then why would this one be any different?”

The look Soren sent her was full of censure and anger. He wanted to reprimand her. He wanted to hurt her. My muscles coiled, ready to spring into action if the dick so much as let a finger fly in her direction.

But then he sent a quick glance toward the king, and his shoulders lowered.

Gritting his teeth, he growled, “That’s different. The High Cliff bastard’s never claimed ~Nicolette~ was his one true love.”

“Oh,” Vienne murmured with a dawning kind of revelation. Her gaze turned teasingly toward me. “So, you think he’ll try to seduce me away from you… across a chess table?”

“Wow,” I murmured dryly. “Honestly, Soren, I’m actually flattered you think my powers of persuasion are that impressive.”

Soren spun to me. “I didn’t say—”

“You know, you’re right,” I went on, cutting him off with a lazy smile. “It’s probably best if she ~didn’t~ get too close. My charisma, you see… it’s so potent and compelling.”

Next to me, Allera and Brentley cracked up, laughing.

“I didn’t ~mean~ that,” Soren seethed.

But I was on a roll. “Why, I might accidentally offer her an innocent smile, and she’d receive it as some kind of invitation, clearing all the pieces off the board with one sweep of the hand so she could ~drape~ herself across it in offering, shedding articles of clothing as she went, ~begging~ me to take her, right there in front of everyone. And we couldn’t have that, of course. It’d quite ruin the chess game I want to play.”

“Okay, you bastard,” Soren roared. “Play your stupid game. But I’ll be watching your every move. Get out of line once, and I’ll—”

“I know, I know,” I told him dramatically, my smile sparkling with smug victory, because after dinner, his wife would be ~mine~. “You’ll make me wish I was never born and all that. I have the entire speech memorized by now, so please feel free to save your breath, if you’d like.”

More chuckles fluttered around the table; even the king and queen seemed amused by my taunts. Only Soren and Vienne—who sent him discreet, worried glances—were unaffected… Or maybe I should say they were not affected with ~amusement~, because Soren did seem quite affected, just of the pissed-off variety.

“That’s it,” he snarled, surging to his feet. “One more snarky word from you and—”

“And nothing,” the king finished for him, sounding almost pleasant as he focused on his meal, though I swear I saw the hint of a smile play across his lips. “The two of you will ~not~ come to blows. The prince has made his point; he will behave himself, and you’ve already agreed to let them play. That is all now.”

His cousin jerked as if he’d been stabbed in the back. “But you heard him. He…he…” He jabbed an incredulous finger my way.

I lifted my eyebrows, curious to hear what charge he had against me.

The king finally looked up from his fork full of sliced pork. “I said let them play. It’s only a game, shared in full view of everyone. If we cannot trust even that, then neither of them should be allowed to remain in the castle at all.”

“Which would be fine with me,” Soren mumbled. “I say exile the bastard, already.”

Allera slammed her fork down so she could glare at Soren. “I do wish you’d stop calling him that. I assure you, his birthright is quite legitimate. I might’ve been young, but I was ~there~ the night he was born… The night my mother ~died~. And you insult her memory more than you do him every time you use that horrid word. He may be an insufferable little ass at times, but he is ~not~ a bastard.”

I slid her a sidelong glance. “Thank you, Sister,” I said before frowning. “I think.” Because I believed the whole ~insufferable ass~ part could’ve been left out.

“Just because you’re a Donnelly now,” Soren started, narrowing his eyes at her. “Doesn’t mean—”

But Brentley cleared his throat. “I would advise you to avoid saying anything that might cause me to blacken your eye again.”

“Wait.” Vienne perked to attention. “~You~ blackened his eye, Brentley? I thought that had been…?” She turned my way.

I smiled and shook my head. “No. Regrettably, I’ve never had the pleasure. But I certainly would have if Brentley hadn’t hit him first.”

“Why?” Vienne asked, glancing worriedly around the room. “What did he do?”

I got the sense she didn’t like being left out of the information circle, so I answered, “He found Allera’s defense of me to be too impertinent for his taste, so… He threatened to rape her.”

“~WHAT~?” Vienne whirled to gape in horror at her husband.

He snarled at me before focusing on Vienne and rolling his eyes with an aggrieved sigh. “It was in jest.”

“Hmm,” I murmured distastefully. “~I’ve~ never joked about raping a woman.”

“Neither have I,” Brentley broke in.

I turned toward the king. “Your Majesty, have ~you~—”

“No,” Caulder boomed, “and please leave me out of your bickering. It grows tiresome.”

“Indeed,” Yasmin supplied, lifting her chin with a lofty air as if she thought she was better than the lot of us. “Not a single one of you has remarked on how pale I look today. I was sick all afternoon, casting up my accounts, you know. Why, I might even be ~increasing~, but does a single person here ~care~? No, you’re all too busy—”

“Increasing?” Caulder broke in, his face exploding with surprise as he turned to his wife.

“Yes, I—”

But Vienne gently placed her hand over Yasmin’s and kindly murmured, “Darling, you’re not increasing.”

The queen scowled. “And how would ~you~ know? You’re not a healer. One pregnancy doesn’t make you an authority on the subject.”

Vienne nodded and offered her a brittle smile before she said, “Yes, but you told me just yesterday that your courses had started, and women don’t have those during pregnancy.”

Yasmin scowled and opened her mouth, but Allera leaned forward to add, “Vienne’s right. It’s highly unlikely you’re pregnant if you’re currently bleeding.”

Casting the entire room a nasty glance, the queen sat back in her chair. “Well, I was quite ill, anyway.”

Smiling fondly, Caulder took her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “And thank the Lord you are better now. I hate when you get sick.”

As they cooed sweet nothings to each other, I ate faster than I’d ever eaten in my life. But I was disappointed to find that Vienne was still only half finished with her meal by the time I completed mine.

What was wrong with her? Wasn’t she as eager for our chess match as I was?

I wanted to think she was. But then again, in all honesty, it might only be a mercy game for her. She seemed like the type who would jump in to keep someone company when they appeared to be lonely. Not that I was lonely, but I had been beginning to feel very alone until she’d spoken.

The woman was an angel like that. I had to wonder why my mark had chosen someone so damn sweet and considerate. Maybe the priestess who’d given me the tattoo had been drunk and botched the whole thing up, pairing me up with someone who actually wouldn’t suit me at all.

“Are you ready?” she finally asked, jerking me back to the present with a snap and making me realize I didn’t care if the priestess who’d applied my tattoo had messed up or not. Merely gazing at Lady Vienne made my blood heat with excitement. Thus, she was the one I wanted, whether she was meant for me or not.

I straightened, fully alert, and nodded my assent, standing when she rose from her chair. But we barely got within ten feet of the chess table when a maid entered with a whimpering babe.

“Apologies, my lady. But I think she’s hungry.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Vienne told the maid, already reaching out. “I’ll take her.”

Once she had the child cradled in her own arms, she turned back to me. “You don’t mind if I feed her while we play, do you?”

Mind? Mind listening to the sound of suckling as a mouth wrapped around her nipple? Mind knowing her bare breasts would be exposed? Mind watching a soft little hand seeking her flesh, ~touching~ her?

I think I went instantly hard.

But I affected a casual shrug and attempted to make a face that said I wouldn’t notice either way. “Whatever the child needs,” I murmured as dispassionately as possible.

“Good.” Her smile was pleased as if I’d passed some kind of test. Then she seated herself, tossed a shawl over her shoulder, and tucked the baby beneath.

I settled down across from her and watched, hoping to catch a flash of skin…or more. But, dammit, she was adept at what she did; she was able to keep the entire process concealed from view.

When a disappointed sigh left me, she glanced up. “Do you prefer playing the black or white pieces?” As I opened my mouth to tell her she could choose, she added perfunctorily, “I have it on good authority that you always insist on being black.”

I sat back and cleared my throat, trying not to be selfishly pleased that she’d bothered to learn what color of chess pieces I preferred. Nicolette had probably mentioned it to her in passing; that was all.

Still…

The table was small. We sat so close our knees could brush under it if I didn’t watch myself. Worse yet—or was it better yet?—she was looking right at me. I wasn’t sure how to deal with this. My one true love actually wanted to play chess with me. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

I glanced across the room, where her husband was scowling at us.

Turning back, I croaked, “Yes. I usually choose black.”

“That’s fine,” she said with a nod. “I don’t mind being white. I have better luck with it, anyway.”

I lifted my eyebrows at the challenge in her voice. “Oh, really? Then maybe I should insist on being white, after all.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “You can try, Prince, but I’ll beat you regardless of which color you want.”

A grin lit my face. “Am I sensing another competitive spirit in the room?”

Blushing, she lifted her chin primly. “Possibly.”

I chuckled and began to set up the game, placing her pieces for her as well since she was busy feeding Anniston.

As I worked, I kept my focus on the task and quietly murmured, “You do realize everyone is watching every move we make and listening to every word we say, right?”

“Of course,” she answered, not looking at me either, too busy watching her child behind the blanket.

“Then why are you doing this?” My voice lowered even more, no longer containing the lightheartedness I’d been going for.

She lifted her face. I looked up as well. “Because I promised I would.”

Struck by those words, I gazed at her in awe.

“Just do me one favor,” she said.

“Anything,” I said, meaning it from the bottom of my soul.

She smiled. “Don’t let me win.”

My lips parted, not expecting her to say ~that~. Then I pursed my mouth with a look of affront and set my hand against my heart. “My lady, I have never once let anyone beat me at chess. What makes you think I would start now?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she answered airily. “Maybe because I heard this rumor I was your one true love.”

Shock pierced me. I hadn’t expected her to tease about that. Then respect grew in me. Sitting back in my chair, I watched her with a new admiration as I nodded. “I’ve heard that very thing myself.”

“Yes, well… It makes me wonder if you’d loosen your competitive spirit if you saw just how desperately I wanted to win this game.” When I said nothing, she lifted her eyebrows expectantly. “So, would you? Let me win if I ~really~ wanted to?”

“In a heartbeat,” I admitted.

She sucked in a small but visible breath before saying, “Well, don’t. If I win, I want to do it honestly. And if I lose, I want to learn just how clever you are.”

I watched her a moment before catching on to what she actually wanted. “You’re still curious,” I surmised. She didn’t care about winning or losing. She just wanted to measure my talent and learn more about me, to see if I was worthy of being her one true love. When she nodded, I did too. “Then, yes, my lady. I will play you to the best of my ability.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, meaning it.

And so I played my heart out, intending to win as I’d never won before. The others crowded around to watch, no one offering pointers, but all of them curious to see which move each of us would make next.

Our mental strategies were intense, and I felt more alive playing this game than any game I could remember playing before. Time passed, Anniston fell asleep in Vienne’s arms, Yasmin became disinterested and drifted away, then Brentley and Allera took their leave, but Vienne and I grew more absorbed with each play.

She was good. Kept me on my toes, but in the end, I won.

Barely.

I was about to think this might last all night when she finally made a move that landed me my victory. Grinning, I shifted my queen into position and announced, “Checkmate.”

Vienne blurted a surprised, “Oh!” and sat forward fast enough that she woke the baby as she scanned the board before looking up at me, her eyes wide with shock, making me wonder if this was the first time she’d ever lost before. “Goodness, you really did win.”

Caulder chuckled and patted my shoulder as he complimented, “Good game, you two,” before he turned away to leave.

Soren scowled moodily, rubbing his chin between his fingers as if he could find a way for Vienne to beat me after all.

“You beat her,” he finally surmised. “You really beat her.”

“I did,” I said before sending her a teasingly suspicious glance. “You didn’t let ~me~ win, did you, my lady?”

Vienne laughed at my question. “Why would I do that?”

I shrugged, my eyes growing stormy and serious as I sent her husband a quick glance. “As a consolation prize, maybe?”

As Soren sent me a smug snicker, Vienne shook her head, her eyes soft with…what was that emotion? Sympathy, perhaps? “No, sorry,” she said, letting me know it was definitely sympathy. “That wasn’t a pity loss. I actually did want to beat you. Quite desperately.”

I nodded gravely and stood. “Then I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” she countered happily, sighing contentedly as she stood and readjusted Anniston in her arms. “It was one of the most exceptional defeats I’ve ever experienced. You made the game entertaining. Thank you for the competition, Prince Urban.”

The words were formal and distant; even the hand she stretched my way was ceremoniously polite. But the emotions it stirred in me were anything but proper.

I looked at her hand and knew I couldn’t touch her in this moment. With a glance toward her husband, who glared at me as if he knew exactly what I really wanted to do with his wife and her hand, I turned back to Vienne and quickly took her fingers.

The moment immediately cemented itself into my head with a permanence I knew I’d never forget. The first time we voluntarily touched each other, aside from that moment I’d saved her life with a kiss. This time, it was instigated by her, and she was awake and alive and cognizant of every moment of it…just as I was.

Her fingers were cool but soft, the pressure in her shake formal but friendly. It was in no way meant to be passionate, and yet my world shifted on its axis. I would’ve burned kingdoms to the ground, laid waste to her entire family, fought wars just to shake her hand again.

But she let go within moments, and I was compelled to follow suit, releasing my grip as soon as she did to make her happy.

“Thank you,” I murmured, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. “I look forward to our next round.”

She opened her mouth to answer. The smile in her eyes told me she was about to agree to more games in the future, but Soren bit out, “Don’t count on it, Prince.”

I glared at him for interrupting, for being a dick, for simply being the obstacle in the way of my happily ever after.

Having had enough of the man for one day, I kept his gaze as I spoke to his wife. “Is he always such an overbearing ass of a tyrant with you, my lady, dictating what you may and may not do? Or is this caveman, chest-thumping act purely for my benefit?”

“You’re a fucking schmuck,” Soren sneered.

“Oh?” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “Why don’t we wait until I micromanage every move ~my~ wife makes and then threaten to rape ~your~ sister before we compare who’s the bigger schmuck, shall we?”

Soren stepped toward me, but Vienne said, “No.” She sighed and rubbed at a spot on her temple, revealing she had a headache. “That’s enough arguing this evening, if you please, gentlemen.”

I bowed to her wishes, instantly contrite. “Of course, my lady. My apologies.”

She sent me a tired, defeated glance before turning to Soren. “Escort me and Anniston to our room, would you?”

He shifted his scowl from me to nod agreeably at Vienne. Then he crooked an elbow, which she took, wrapping the very same fingers she’d used to shake with me to grip his arm. And away they went, married and bound together in ways I would never be to her.

The triumph I’d felt over spending time with her, meeting her gaze across the chess table, and touching her hand came crashing down with the bitter taste of reality. She wasn’t mine. She would ~never~ be mine. Why was I torturing myself this way?

But then…then she glanced over her shoulder at me as she and Soren reached the doorway, and my heart thudded hard in my chest when she gifted me with an apologetic smile.

Suddenly, I understood why. Table scraps were better than starving. ~That’s~ why I stayed.