I wait for an answer, but one never comes.
Instead of crawling back into bed, I return to the chessboard and add another note under my previous one, then move my piece back to where it was. This is now a stalemate, physically.
I return to bed and stare at the ceiling until my eyes burn. Somewhere between three or four in the morning, I fall asleep, and somehow, I’m already dreading the day.
5
ADDISON
The chessboard hasn’t changed since the last note appeared before sunrise yesterday.
I stand in the quiet corner of this private wing and stare at the hand-carved pieces still frozen in place. I hoped whoever I was playing would continue forward without a response, but they didn’t, and it’s still their move. As it stands, I’m three plays from checkmate. Maybe they realized too late they were in a trap.
The note is still tucked under the edge of the board, where my opponent left it.
Who are you?
Someone who’s going to beat you.
You’ve met your match.
If you want to finish this game, meet me on Saturday at 9 p.m. in the study. Play me to my face.
I’ve read the words so many times that I’ve memorized every curve of each letter. Now I’m stuck dealing with an ultimatum,where I either meet this person or the game dies here. Maybe this is a real-life stalemate for us both, or maybe I have to make the first move.
I write at the bottom.
I’ll be there. Can’t wait to watch you lose IRL. :)
I slide the paper to the other side of the board and walk away. When I beat this person, I will make sure to gloat so muchto their facethat they’ll tell the king to send me back to America.
The painting situation is as frustrating as the chess standoff. This country is beautiful, but nothing has inspired me to paint. Maybe I’m broken. Then I quickly remember I’m a mood painter who needs obsession to fuel my work. It’s a blessing and a curse.
I spend the morning in my studio writing ideas, then take my camera around the palace gardens and snap reference photos. I consider creating portraits of the king and queen, the castle, stables, or even the sea, but nothing interests me. I need that spark to create.
Monday is the deadline I’ve given myself to commit to something, so I need inspiration to find me before then.
On my way back to the cottage, Delphine intercepts me with mischief written across her face. She falls into step beside me and steers me back toward the palace. “Perfect timing. We’re going out tonight.”
“We?”
“My cousin Marcelo is throwing a party at his villa. Very exclusive, very debauched, very much the sort of thing my mother would disown me for attending.” She tugs me up a staircase I haven’t used before. “Join me.”
“Say no more.”
“I knew you’d be in.” She grins at me over her shoulder. “Fair warning: I’m a terrible influence.”
“That’s usually my line.” I keep pace with her. “I also enable, so if he’s hot, I will tell you yes every single time.”
She playfully scoffs and leads me down a hallway on the opposite end of the castle. “You’re the worst. But also, same. Consequences can wait.”
She pushes through a set of double doors, and her room opensbefore us. It’s full of silk and antique furniture and a closet that might be bigger than my entire loft. She heads straight for a cabinet that swings open to reveal a bar stocked with top-shelf everything.
“Tequila first, and then we break some hearts.”
“I appreciate a woman with priorities.”
She grabs the tequila and two crystal glasses, fills them halfway, and hands one to me before raising hers. “To terrible decisions that make incredible stories later.”
