Page 21 of Throne of the Wolf Queen

I pretended to search the board for a possible move, my pulse racing at the prospect of putting Musa on the ropes. My fingers hovered over my remaining angel, giving the impression I was about to move it, leaving my Evella ready for his Vyrus to attack.

’My mother talked about those ruins,’ I said, steepling my fingers and narrowing my eyes.

‘Ah, I sometimes forget Isbeth is from Temlhen.’

I nodded, my heart twisting at the thought of how far Mother had travelled. After Father had died, she’d struggled when the three of us returned from our forced banishment. The Alliance had claimed the punishment was directed at Raul, our father, ensuring we’d grow up free from his dangerous ideologies. Beliefs such as sharing Vyrium and the wealth it generated with everyone, not merely the nobility.

He and those who rallied to his cry were labelled as rebels, traitors to the ideals of The Alliance and the power it promised. Romero had encouraged The Alliance to impose extreme sanctions, forcing Asmar to pay huge reparations. And that us, his three children, would become the wards of the other leaders, to teach us how to think. Skye had been the most fortunate, sent to live with Queen Sarus of Motresh, who’d encouraged her to become the person she’d always been. Ifan – I sighed, lifting my last pawn and knocking Musa’s demon out of play – had become the ward of the overly traditional Edvard of Carush, who’d been more than happy to hand the youngest Elmswood to his teenage daughter. Romero had demanded I live with him. I think he imagined he’d break me, destroy what little fire my father possessed and manipulate me.

What he hadn’t counted on was his stepdaughter’s kindness. Mercy had showed compassion when she could, but seemed to live in fear of her husband. Instead, Sorrow Villente barrelled into my world like Vyrus’s comet. It was as though Evella had split my soul in half at birth, bestowing the other half upon Sorrow. I’d only known it was missing when I first locked eyes with that scowling, dark-haired tempest. I rubbed the ache in my chest as I met Musa’s expression.

My smile faded at the glint in his eye. Fuck. Turning back to the board, I grimaced at what I’d failed to see. He removed one of my defensive saints with his demon. My Evella was exposed. His Vyrus would take her in two simple moves.

‘So,’ he said, his tone soft, ‘which of the Gods did your mother have allegiance to?’

The prickles of panic rippled through my fingers, spreading outwards as I desperately sought a way to win. ‘Ronin, God of…’

‘Blessings,’ Musa finished for me, as with a crashing sense of regret, I moved my castle, far too aware of how vulnerable it left my most important piece. Musa lifted his stone Vyrus and placed him diagonally from my Evella. My shoulders slumped as I offered him my hand. His frail fingers held mine and I accepted my defeat, almost worried I’d crush him.

‘You know, in Yepana, I’m considered an expert in the lore of the forgotten Gods. I have an ancient book of teachings from Ronin. They instruct us that even our failures should be considered blessings.’

I snorted. ‘And there was me thinking I was just fucked. I’m literally dripping in blessings right now.’

Musa chuckled, gathering each makeshift chivash piece and placing them in order on either side of the bars. ‘Even in the face of a great loss, one can seek wisdom, a lesson. As long as a mind is open, ears are listening, the heart can never fail.’

Rolling my shoulders I leaned back. ‘And I just learnt I’m truly shit at chivash.’

Musa barked out a laugh that, for a single moment, swiped away the deep furrows etched on his face. He ran trembling fingers through his beard.

‘Ah, my Asmaran brother. I’m hoping you have learnt that in the face of a battle, if one wishes to become the victor, one must watch one’s opponent.’

I narrowed my eyes, stretched out my aching legs. That wasn’t the first time Musa had said that.

‘I beat you with the same moves only two days ago,’ he said. ‘Watch me. I’ll try again. Only next time, be wary. Ready.’

I couldn’t help but smile. ‘If only it were that easy to defeat the empress.’

As the light dimmed in his eyes, I regretted my words. We avoided talking about the woman who’d usurped us, stolen our lives and families before sealing our fates. We distracted ourselves with tales of the old Gods, the myths and legends of our youth, Musa’s beloved Yepana. He truly was an oracle when it came to the lost legends of the forgotten Gods. Sorrow would adore him.

And it did make me wonder why the empress kept him alive. His had been the first kingdom to fall. She’d deliberately targeted both Musa’s lands and mind. Somehow, he was keeping a grip on himself, holding back. If she’d wrung all she needed from him, he’d no longer breathe.

‘Have you watched her, Matthias? Truly watched her?’ He didn’t meet my gaze as the fallen King of Yepana drew circles in the dirt. ‘How she controls us?’

My heart skittered as he returned to this topic. Even with the cuffs, even beyond her control, she could force him to tell her what I knew. If I could work it out on my own, I’d be one step closer to freedom. Every day, Eiriulf practically slavered as the guards dragged Yepana’s king from his cell. I had no idea what they wanted with him, but in these stolen, almost peaceful moments, he did all he could to share his secrets.

‘The tattoo.’

‘And?’

I narrowed my gaze.

‘Only she controls us. Have you noticed? So, think, my Asmaran brother, really think.’

He leaned closer towards the bars, his dark eyes searching my face.

I sat straighter. What was it about the empress that was always the same? Unique? ‘Not the abbott,’ I said. Not a flicker registered on his face. ‘Does she have some… some chunk of superior Vyrium that she uses in the tattoos?’ Again, not a single flicker. I ran my hands through my stubble.

‘Some magic from Evella?’