She was good. Curse the Five and the hour he'd suggested the game the first time, but the girl was infuriatingly good.
They had started with fourteen painted wooden checkers apiece, and now Basil was down to six battered pieces while Mesea sat behind an army of ten. Even a blind beggar could see the crown prince was being methodically carved to pieces and served in courses.
Basil bit down hard on his thumb, staring at the checkered grain of the board. He could feel her smug, unblinking stare without looking up.
She was gloating. You would hardly believe the girl was rumored to be a mute across the palace; she had a sharp little chuckle whenever they both realized the trap had sprung and Basil was merely prolonging the butchery.
With a heavy sigh, he slid a black piece forward. It wasn't a brilliant move, but it was the least suicidal of the miserable options left to him.
