“Sure, why not.”
“Who the hell taught you to play like this? I mean, seriously. There is only one person I know who could play like this.” He protests after I call checkmate once again. He’s been watching my moves so carefully this time, his face concentrating harder than before.
“If you’re about to say Rowan, I’d think again because I beat him too,” I say with a grin.
“Well, I’ll be saving that information for later,” he winks. “No, he, um…he’s actually not with us anymore.” Kael’s face drops, and it brings a wave of sadness to see his normally permanent smile disappear.
“Masen?” I throw the name out there. His head turns instantly at the sound of his name.
“My mum mentioned him, didn’t she?” I nod in response, letting him continue.
“Well, he was the best player I knew. He taught me and Rowan. He used the same starting move as you, did Rowan mention that?” he asks me, and I shake my head. But there’s something there in his face I can’t quite make out.
“Can you tell me about him?” I ask, but he looks to Rowan, who is now sitting at the other end of the room chatting away to Mara.
“I think it’s best that he tells you.” That’s all he gives me before standing and offering me his hand. “I think it’s probably time to call it a night.”
“Right,” I smile. We make our way over to Mara and Rowan, who go still once we approach. Mara gives me a soft smile as Rowan looks everywhere except at me.
“I hear you are a skilful chess player, dear,”
“I don’t know about that, but I’m certainly better than these two.” She laughs in response, which causes a small bickering session between Rowan and Kael.
“I think we should probably get some sleep. Rowan, you can take the spare room with Elodie,” she says.
“What?” we both say in unison. Kael tries to bury his laugh behind his arm whilst Mara shakes her head.
“I can take the sofa. It’s okay,” I say.
“Nonsense, I won’t have a guest sleeping on my sofa when there is a perfectly big enough bed,” she says, “It’s one night. I’m sure you will both survive.” Rowan looks at Kael with a death stare. I follow Rowan down the narrow corridor in silence, the sound of rain pressing harder against the walls the further we go. The room is small, clean and cosy. There is a bed pushed against the far wall, a nightstand and some wardrobes.
No sofa.
No chair.
No second option.
“I’ll take the floor,” Rowan says.
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s fine, really.” He pauses slightly before nodding, setting his boots neatly beside the bed and loosening his trousers.
The surrounding air prickles every inch of my skin.
I follow his lead, removing my own shoes and fumbling with the clasps at the back of my bodice. My fingers don’t cooperate. Slipping once before I try again.
Heat climbs up my neck.
“I can’t, um…” the words tangle in my throat.
Rowan doesn’t look at me. Instead, he reaches for his cloak, the dark fabric heavy in his hands.
“You can sleep in it,” he says quietly before glancing at my hands slipping on the bodice.
“Here,” he says before standing and moving behind me, his fingers graze over my back as he finds the fastening, working them loose with quiet efficiency. His fingers brush my back, steady and precise. My breath catches before I can stop it.
“There,” he murmurs, his voice raw.
“That can’t be your first time undoing a woman’s dress. That was far too efficient,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Embarrassment blooms hot and immediate as I stare at the wall, cursing myself internally. Pivoting to face him, his eyes drop once. Slowly. Then return to mine.
