My king died. I lost.

Nik opened his eyes. The world around him gradually came into focus, revealing sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, a small side table, white tapestry marking the outline of his ward, and Misha's brown hair spread all over the bed sheets as she slept, her head resting on her arms in the space next to his hand.

For a moment, Nik just looked at the serenity of her face. He passed his gaze over the faded bruise on her right cheek, the lack of frown lines between her eyes, her peacefully parted lips and the dark circles that she'd concealed beneath her eyes. He raised his hand and threaded it through her smooth hair, pulling his fingers free when they tangled in the knots it always had. He'd brush them out for her, perhaps. Someday.

Nik closed his eyes. A small, forgotten melody played in his mind, two young girls singing together. His heart ached, and tears burned the back of his eyes.

"Nik?" His younger sister's voice cut through his self-loathing. "Are you awake?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel? The doctor said you might need to stay here a few days."

Nik touched his stomach, feeling the roughness of the bandages there.

"Where is he?"

Misha's eyes tensed around the edges. They both knew he wasn't talking about the doctor. "I don't know."

Nik took her hand. It was thin as always, and he'd memorized the places where her bones were sharp under her soft skin. "I don't want to leave you alone with him." I fucked up. I'm sorry.

Misha's smile was small, but there - light in his dark world. "It's okay. I'll manage."

The curtains of his ward parted, and a stern nurse walked in. "You are awake," she said, surprised, her [language] thick with an [area] accent and nasal in a tolerable kind of way. "I did not expect you to be awake so soon."

Nik's answering smile was thin.

The nurse pushed up her glasses. "I shall take your essentials," she said, and proceeded to check his pulse rate and temperature.

"When can I leave?" he asked.

"Not anytime soon." The nurse frowned. "The wound on your abdomen is an inch deep. No major organs were hit, but we need to monitor you."

Nik cursed in his mind. He'd have to tell Mikhael to talk to the doctor.

As if on cue, the man himself walked in, running a hand through his short red hair. "I talked to the doctor," he said. "He agreed to let you out in a day."

The nurse frowned, turning up her nose. "What do you mean?" she asked. "His injuries-"

"I talked to the doctor," Mikhael said again, leaving no space for protests. The nurse huffed and walked out.

"Thanks, man." Nik let out a sigh of relief. "I was thinking of asking you to speak to the doctor just a second ago."

"I know." Mikhael's smoky gaze swung to him. The man was so intense he'd probably light up coals with his gaze alone. "Feeling okay?"

Nik nodded, touching his bandages again. He messed up. There'd been a loophole in his plan. "The negotiations?"

"Went smoothly." Mikhael inclined his head and relief filled Nik. This was why Mikhael was the only one he trusted with his back. "I ensured that there were no complications in the actual process itself." He cut Misha a glance. "The old man's worried about you."

Mish, perceptive as always, took that as her cue to walk out. Nik watched her go.

"We think the attackers were after you." Mikhael took the seat Misha had evacuated, stretching out his long legs. The musky scent of his aftershave wafted to Nik. "They left the moment you'd been taken down."

"A rival gang?" Nik frowned.

"Imanuel seems to think so." Mikhael took out a cigarette and lit it.

"What do you think?" Nik took the cigarette when Mikhael extended it, taking a drag. The smoke was bitter in his lungs. Jauna tasted and felt so much better.

Mikhael's dark eyes were stormy in the sunlight that filtered in through the open window. "I think these guys were the same ones who were behind the attack on the stadium."

"Hm?" Nik turned the thought over in his head, but couldn't quite line it up. "How so?"

Mikhael leaned forward. His intensity went up a notch. "Look, Nik, you and I both know it'd take one hell of a brain to outsmart you. It'd also take one hell of a brain to outsmart the government's security plans and systems. Who's to say that the two aren't linked?"

Made sense. But then... "You think rebels are after my life?"

Mikhael shrugged. Of course he wouldn't think that. Any powerful rebels in the country could only come from the East, and Nik didn't have any enemies on that side of the country. At least, none that he knew of. But then, it wasn't necessary for either attack to be instigated by rebels. For all they knew, it could be a rival gang trying to get big.

One glance at Mikhael told Nik that his mind was on the same track. "Did you talk to the old man about this?"

"Nah." Mikhael raised a shoulder. "He's in a pretty sour mood."

Both of them knew that wasn't it. Immanuel was always in a sour mood unless he had a woman at his hip.

Nik frowned. Mikhael and Immanuel had never gotten along, ever since he could remember. Although he'd known Mikhael for years, he never asked about it. It was the least he could do when Mikhael himself never had asked him a single prying question since they'd exchanged names, although there'd been nary a situation for it.

"What do you want to do about it, then?" Nik asked.

Mikhael raised a shoulder again. "I'll look into it," he said, and that was that.

#

Azaelya Mae checked her outfit in the mirror for the last time. She was dressed in a short black dress that hugged her body and ended mid-thigh. It was different than what she usually wore, but she figured the event was important enough to warrant for the change.

The capital city held a gathering for powerful chess players every four months. Mae had never attended, having never found interest in social events, but her manager, Razz, had insisted she attended that year.

You've got an important role in the public now that you're a Chessmaster, Mae. You have an image to maintain outside the stadium, both for opponents and supporters. This gathering is more than just a simple place for chess players to meet outside of chess. It's a way to confirm their power outside the stadium and show the public that they actually have a life outside chess.

Mae scowled. She didn't have a life outside chess, and they both knew it. She was all dressed up, though, so might as well go already.

Bending, Mae stroked her demjinn Az's head. The small creature let out a purr of pleasure, breathing out tendrils of flame through her nose. "I'll see you later, Az," Mae said with a smile. Az meowed and followed her to the door. Mae waved and closed the door, locking it behind her.

Her imansho was waiting downstairs. Mae stepped onto the small machine. It levitated into the air and she moved out of the area, heading towards the centre of town.

All the Chessmasters other than her and Nik worked for the Grandmaster. Mae had considered doing the same for a brief moment when she'd won the title, but then she'd remembered Kayovahn walking out on her in search of a better life, leaving her alone in the cold darkness of the shack they'd lived in, and bitterness had filled her heart. There was no way in hell. She'd never work for a man like him.

As the wind whipped up her curly dark hair, Mae wondered if the Grandmaster would be present at the event. There was a real chance, but he wouldn't remember her. Not after all the years that had passed. Not after how little she'd meant to him. She didn't know if remaining forgotten was for the better or worse.

Mae reached the venue and slowed down, scanning the crowds for Razz. He was nowhere in sight and she sighed. Late as always, her passionate manager.

People in the crowds shouted her name as she passed on her imanho, others eying her with contempt and even lust. Mae smiled for her fans.

"How many men will you bed for the next win, Azaelya?" Someone jeered at her.

"Yeah!" Someone else yelled. "Was Nikolai a good lover?"

"You gonna bed the Grandmaster today, huh? What's with the sudden dress?"

Mae's heart skipped a beat, and she set her jaw, leaning forward and increasing her imanho's speed. Some people only knew the bounds of their own toxicity, and she had no time for them.

Stopping at the entrance, Mae stepped off her imanho and parked it. She brushed down her dress and headed for the main gate.

"What're ya doin' here, young girl?" One of the guards sneered at her. "Fangirls ain't allowed inside."

"I'm not a fangirl," Mae said, voice cold. "I'm Azaelya Mae."

"Yeah, and I'm Kayovahn Himi," the second guard said and laughed so hard he had to wipe away tears.

"Scoot, kid," the first guard said. "Yer not Azaelya. She don't dress like a girl." The two roared again.

"Or you wanna have some fun first, eh?" The second guard stepped forward, leering at her in a way that sent chills down her spine. He reached forward, making to slip his hand beneath the folds of her skirt when someone cleared their throat behind her. The guard looked up with a curse on his tongue but stopped before it could leave his lips. The colour drained his face.

"You were saying?" The new voice was a husky drawl, and Mae turned.

Nikolai Aleksandrov had a dark bruise on his cheek, somehow enhancing the scar that stretched over his eye. His hair was dishevelled and his gaze burned with cold fire. Mae swallowed down the lump in her throat. The famed criminal looked like he'd just walked out of a fist fight.

Guard 2 gulped, stepping away from her. Nikolai stepped to her side. His cane tapped against the cobblestone pavement as he did so and both guards looked at it. "Good evening, Azaelya," Nikolai said to her with a tilt of his head. "These two bothering you?"

"Not really," Mae said; their point had already been made. "I'll talk to my manager about them when he turns up."

"Sounds good to me," Nikolai said and extended his arm. "Wanna head inside?"

"Sure," Mae said, putting her hand on his arm. The two walked inside, and it was then that Mae noticed a large beast of a man at Nikolai's shoulder. Was he his bodyguard?

Her mind flickered back to a recent news article she'd read. It had been about the man next to her, and how he'd sustained injuries to his abdomen after a recent attack on him. The article's writer theorized that someone may be after Nikolai's life and also criticized the Grandmaster, claiming that the Grandmaster and his government ought to improve their policies for the security conditions around chess players, especially powerful ones.

Mae herself was currently without a bodyguard. Razz had fired the last two after their incapability to stick by her side during the chess tournament and had said that he'd look into hiring private bodyguards for her instead of government paid ones.

"So, did you hear any word about the date of our rescheduled chess match?" Nikolai asked her.

Mae blinked, dropping her hand from his arm. "No, not yet, but my manager's looking into it." She studied Nikolai out of the corner of his eye. He was the only Chessmaster besides her who didn't work for the government. She wanted to beat him.

Chessmasters around them turned as they passed.

"Nikolai," one said, tilting his head at the man at her side.

"Jackarov," Nikolai replied, nodding.

Jackarov turned to Mae, passing his gaze over her. "Azaelya Mae," he said, inclining his head. "Congrats on the recent title." His smile was broad, but his eyes held contempt. I'd beat you in a moment if we had a match, they told her. Women don't know a thing about chess.

Mae set her jaw, fist clenching. She was inclined to turn away and not even reply but remembered Razz's words: this event was her debut as a Chessmaster. She couldn't step down.

"Thank you," she said, keeping her tone derisive. "And you are...?"

Jackarov's eyes flashed. "I'm Jackarov Matthen," he said, puffing out his chest. "One of the Grandmaster's advisers."

Mae nodded and turned away from both him and Nikolai. Jackarov Matthen had been on a steady ascent to the top a couple of years ago but had experienced a humiliating defeat at the hands of Kayovahn. Since then, he'd lost his position in the public's heart. Ironic that he worked for the very man who'd beaten him. His paycheck must be quite satisfying.

She looked around. The orange glow of lamps and streetlights around them set a warm ambience, accentuated by several beds of colourful flowers and well-trimmed bushes. Mae picked up a snack for herself off the plate of a passing waiter and stood to one side, looking at everyone.

All of the Grandmaster's Chessmasters were present. They worked for his government and she liked to refer to them as his dogs. There were ten of them in all, and that was it. There were a couple of Masters present as well, but these were all powerful ones, men who were only a win or two away from achieving Chessmaster status. Mae wasn't threatened by them in the least, despite the angry stares some of them sent her way. They were small fry and she was already above them, having beaten quite a few on her ascent to her new status.

Razz still hadn't turned up, which was unsurprising. He was known for his tardiness, which could usually be traced back to his young daughter and wife, both of whom he never liked to be away from.

Mae looked around again. Kayovahn was present, just as she'd suspected. The Grandmaster and leader of their country stood with two of his advisers, William Van Elk and Timothy Iska.

Van Elk was the only man in the country who was just one win away from becoming Grandmaster. Mae often wondered why he hadn't yet had a match with Kayovahn yet. But then, he was a cunning man. Maybe he was biding his time for something.

Just then, Van Elk pulled out a mike out of nowhere and spoke into it. "Good evening to all," he said with a warm smile, his voice somehow more nasal than usual. "Can I have your attention, please?"

People turned and moved to the centre of the garden. Mae debated for a moment and then followed, standing at the end of the gathering. Nikolai stood nearby, alone except for the man at his shoulder.

"Thank you," Van Elk said. "Our Grandmaster has an announcement to make."

Polite applause broke out. Mae spotted a cameraman near Nikolai, snapping pictures like a crazed stalker. The Chessmaster himself paid the man no heed and his bodyguard stepped in front of the cameraman to ward him off.

"Good evening." Kayovahn's clear, imperious tone grabbed Mae's attention and she turned. "I hope you are all doing well. We, members of your trusted government, have an announcement to make." The Grandmaster paused for effect and continued: "Today is the third death anniversary of respected Grandmaster Paul. Noting the violent and brutal way in which he was murdered by rebels, I thus introduce a new law, Article 45 of the Kayovahn Testament."

Kayovahn glanced at a sheet of paper in his hand.

"This new law states that, in the event of a Grandmaster's murder, only Chessmasters with at least five victories against five Chessmasters on their belt can succeed him. There is one condition for this also: the successor must have uncovered the cause of the previous Grandmaster's death and must also present a guilty party along with proper evidence for the murder. Only that man is worthy of the Grandmaster's seat, unless he is already a Grandmaster, of course."

Silence ensued. Mae nodded to herself. The law was completely reasonable and would prevent a disaster like the violence that had ensued after the previous Grandmaster had been killed. It would also not only reveal a guilty party, but it would also ensure that there was no power struggle in the event that Kayovahn died. Of course, it would be a miracle if the man actually was murdered. Not only was he resourceful, powerful and cunning, the security around him was also tight and impenetrable.

Mae looked around. The other Chessmasters were already locked in conversation about the new law and Kayovahn had returned to his Council. Jackarov, the man who'd butted heads with her earlier, stood on his own with a frown, and Timothy Iska was nowhere to be seen. Nikolai was still in the same spot, smoking a cigar. He didn't seem affected by the law at all, but Mae somehow knew that he was thinking about it all the same.

She turned towards the banquet in a corner of the garden, stomach growling for food. She'd eat to her fill and leave. The gathering no longer interested her.