My grandmother used to tell me to think three moves ahead, to anticipate my opponent’s strategy, and to plan accordingly. It’s something I’ve never forgotten.
I slide my knight forward and keep my options open. Before I leave, I pull out my pen and write something below the previous message.
Who are you?
I fold the paper and leave it beside the board, already counting the hours until I can return and hopefully find an answer.
The rest of the morning dissolves in meetings I can barely focus on, and I nod along while my father drones about trade negotiations and ceremonial duties. I’m forced to plan my schedule with my father’ssecretary, and then I review documents that require my signature and scribble my name across paper until my hand cramps. After lunch, I sit through a briefing on agricultural policy that makes me want to gouge my eyes out with the fountain pen I’m holding. Through it all, the chessboard tugs at my attention like a thread I can’t stop pulling.
Eventually, I enter the sunroom that’s hazy with afternoon light. I find my sister curled up on a chaise with a book and a glass of iced tea that I’m almost certain is whiskey. Condensation beads on the outside of her glass while she reads. She looks so relaxed that envy pricks at me. Delphine has no idea how lucky she is to be the spare instead of the heir.
When I enter, her expression shifts into something unreadable. “Oh, you’re back so soon. I heard a rumor you’d eloped with a countess.”
“I wish that were true because it would mean I’d actually found someone worth talking to.”
“They can’t all be terrible.” She sets down her book and pats the space beside her. “Come tell me everything.”
I sink into the chair across from her instead because sitting beside Delphine means she’ll try to hug me, and physical comfort isn’t something I can handle right now. I want to be left alone.
“I’ve rejected several women since I returned from New York. It’s not going well.”
“Mother said there were more. When will you meet the others?”
“Soon. And I’m honestly afraid I’ll run out of candidates before I find anyone tolerable,” I admit, and it comes out like a confession.
Delphine wrinkles her nose. “And then?”
“Mom and Dad will decide my fate.”
“That won’t happen,” she offers, though her voice lacks conviction. “You’ll find someone.”
“I hope you’re right.”
She studies my face for a moment. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like it too,” I say.
She slides a bookmark inside her book and closes it. “On a scale of one to ten, one being miserable and ten being happy, where are you?”
“Truthfully?”
She nods.
“Zero.”
My answer sits between us, and she doesn’t try to fill the silence with positive bullshit, which I appreciate. I can tell it makes her sad though.
“Have you noticed anyone wandering around the east wing lately?” I ask, steering the conversation away from that.
Something flickers behind her eyes. “No. Why?”
“Things seemed different when I returned from my travels.” I keep some details to myself because I want the chess game to stay a secret for now.
“I haven’t noticed anything unusual, but I’ll keep an eye out if you want.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” I stand and stretch. “Great chat. I’ll let you get back to your porn.”
“Shut the fuck up,” she says with a laugh. “Go find a wife or something.”
