Page 1 of Henrikk’s Game

Chapter 1

CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON

Asher

Asher stared at the armoury—or what looked like an armoury. The small Gothic-style office on the fourth floor was lavishly decorated. If only one could see past the impressive clutter of weaponry.

Spears, swords, battle-axes, and suits of armour lined the walls. Asher’s knee accidentally bumped a heavy kite shield as he turned in the cramped space, but he steadied it to stop it from falling.

He was glad that Henrikk had left his hands unbound, but he was wary as to why.

“Only you would devise a game such as this,” Asher muttered as King Henrikk followed him into the room, looking as pleased as the cat who’d gotten the cream.

All you need to do is kill me.

Those had been Henrikk’s words as they sat playing chess upstairs in the royal suite that he’d kept Asher locked in. Despite Asher’s questions, Henrikk had said very little more on the subject, apart from a few cryptic digs at Asher’s expense. These he ignored as Henrikk annihilated him in chess.

“The real game begins,” Henrikk mused.

Asher shot him a sidelong look, half-expecting the vampire to seize one of the many gleaming daggers and stab him in the gut. “Now?”

“Not right now,” Henrikk replied with a wave of his hand as though that should have been obvious. “It would all be over so quickly. And I think it would be better if you attack me when I least expect it, don’t you agree?”

Asher pressed his lips together and said nothing, waiting patiently. Henrikk was purposefully explaining things backwards—delivering the punchline before the joke. Even in humour, he liked to maintain control, so that only he could laugh until he allowed others to do so.

“I’m offering you a way out of your precarious situation,” Henrikk continued, stepping deeper into the room. “A chance for you to kill me.” He turned slowly on the spot as if to survey the weaponry, exposing his back to Asher for several long seconds.

It was a tempting invitation to strike, but hurting someone in cold blood was not his style.

Henrikk thinks that imprisoning me, subjugating me, coming to my bed and taking his pleasure from me, and making me hurt is all that it takes to turn me into a savage like him.

Had there been no history between them, any one of those would have been a valid reason to strike down an enemy who submitted him to such treatment.

But they had been friends, once, even if Henrikk had conveniently forgotten—even if he only remembered it when it suited him to taunt Asher.

Cold realisation crept in, and Asher felt something inside him shrink.

Henrikk doesn’t know me at all.

“I believe your loyalty as my faithful general would have prevented you from striking your king in the past,” Henrikk said, smiling sweetly as he faced Asher. “But after our time together these past few weeks, I’m sure I’ve eased your doubts.”

“Somewhat,” Asher said stiffly. There was rarely any point in denying Henrikk—not unless the purpose was to provoke him. Right now, Asher was still trying to understand the intricate gears turning in his head.

“Somewhat,” Henrikk repeated mockingly, his lips curling. “Well, I hope you make these coming weeks entertaining for me. Or days, if you are efficient.” He clapped his slender hands together with a sharp sound as if signalling the end of their meeting. “Take your time perusing, General. This is the only time you are permitted to be in this room. You have one hour to choose as many weapons as you are able to carry, and then you may return upstairs to where you belong.”

“May return?” Asher queried.

“Of course,” Henrikk responded amicably. “Wintermaw Keep is your home, as it is mine.”

The words sounded romantic, like they might’ve been from one of Asher’s fantasies, but they sparked a feeling of impending doom.

“And what will you be doing? Trying to kill me, I assume?” Asher asked, ignoring the way his chest tightened at the thought of Henrikk coming after him with a knife.

Of Henrikk wanting him dead.

“Oh no. What do you take me for, General?” Henrikk gave a polite laugh, as though Asher had said something amusing. “It would be a great loss for us to lose you so soon. But make no mistake…” Henrikk took a step closer into Asher’s space, making him swallow nervously. “I have every intention of hunting you down…” His voice so low it was barely a whisper brushing Asher’s face, “And reminding you of your inferiority.”

Asher couldn’t help himself from flinching in surprise when Henrikk reached out to touch his face. A slender fingertip glided past Asher’s cheek, almost brushing the skin where something of a beard had been forming.