He reviewed the movement patterns for each pieceagain, then calculated his next move while I stared at the pieces.
Strategic action felt less important than understanding the other players on the board.I touched my King, where he sat beside the Queen. Each time I moved it, I thought of Kingston.
“Remember, he can move to anysquare around him, but onlyoneat a time.”
While the pawns had the most complicated rules for their movements, the King’s were the most limited.
I couldn’t deny how fitting that was, and I glanced at the photos along the back wall, thinking of Desi.
Why had it been necessary to bring her into this? Or me?
With his hands tied by his father, Kingston carried so much weight on his shoulders as he tried to find a way to beat him.
When Drake had shown up unexpectedly during our break before the Courage Challenge, he’d whirled in like a hurricane. Unable to stay long at Pendragon, since the house belonged to Kingston, he’d rained down fury on his son while demanding action to correct what he’d messed up by choosing me.
As the Valencourts made moves in the background that Drake D’Arthur hadn’t suspected, an onslaught of information was handed over to me without his knowledge.
Then, one thing after another had come up, and it had been hard to sift through everything.
But I’d overheard him mention one grand prize.
He’d said the winner of The Quest became Queen and picked the next King of Camelot Court.
As Peter moved his Knight and took one of my pieces off the board, I stared at the fallen pawn he’d pushed to the side.
“The Queen moves in every direction, right?”
Peter nodded, but as he answered my question, my thoughts shifted to Landon, his memory, and Desi’s death. His role in what happened, and guilt over not being able to save her, weighed heavily as the anniversary approached.
With his quiet, brooding angst, often over my stubbornness and how hard he tried to begood,I had faith he’d find his way through everything. He was steadfast and sure.
Relentless in his pursuits.
For those reasons, he’d make a great King next year.
Those were also a few reasons I lov?—
“Quinn?” Peter pulled my head up. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Sorry, what did you say?”
He smiled. “The Queen moves in a straight line, but in any direction she wants, so she can extend out like sun rays, if that makes sense.”
I pictured the Queen in the center of the Round Tableau, staring at the twelve Knights.
She could move to any she wanted.
Like the hub at the center of a wheel.
While I didn’t know why that mattered, it felt important.
After my lesson with Peter, I went toSublimationtraining and painted my feelings onto the floor in streaks of gold radiating out like the sun.
Over that, I added controlled, careful streaks of red and pink. Swirls and loops forming an indistinguishable pattern that reminded me of him.
Then, I picked the purple and moved to a blank wall for what I calledRage Painting Time. Wild strokes of acrylic smeared the entire wall when I finished, licking up the space like flames burning down the house.
Fitting, if not entirely too infuriating.
