The Unbroken by C. Clark (ebook reader .txt) 📕

Touraine had never been so soundly beaten at anything since her first years in the Balladairan training yard. She learned after the first several games that charging forward with the most powerful pieces wouldn’t win shit, so she saw to her defensive tactics. Her greatest success was the last game. Instead of sending all her armies to attack, she barricaded her king in a defensive square of players. It became impractical soon, as Luca slowly winnowed away the makeshift fortress with precision. Somehow, Luca predicted Touraine’s moves before she made them, and had traps already in wait.

She gave Touraine no quarter. Not even a little mercy for a beginner. She was hard, harder even than Cantic, who had at least pretended regret when she punished the young Sands for their mistakes. There was nothing like that in Luca.

“You should move your pawns more,” Luca said, pointing to Touraine’s pale foot soldiers. “Let them guard your king and make trouble so you don’t have to spend the more useful pieces.”

She threw the comment away as she studied the board, but it made Touraine stutter to a halt. In her mind, Émeline straddled Tibeau’s lap, making fun of him while Touraine and Pruett laughed and a cook fire danced happily between them. A brief moment of happiness before the company of pawns went to fight and die for the king in his city. Now Émeline was gone.

“You would make a brilliant general,” Touraine said quietly.

Luca startled as she moved her queen several diagonal spaces from Touraine’s king. Her cheeks tinged pink, but her look at Touraine was quizzical. “Checkmate.”

Touraine swore. “Wait. That last move. What did you do? What did I miss?”

Luca smiled with such pure, wicked, girlish glee that it was Touraine’s turn to be startled.

“You should be asking what I did at the beginning. Now. I think I’ve had enough. Have you?” Luca winced as she pushed herself away from the board. “I feel a little better.”

“Better?”

“Better. Now I would like to get up, undress, and lie down.”

“All right.” Touraine still looked at the end of the game, trying to remember Luca’s last moves. It was easier than thinking about pawns.

Luca smiled. “We can have tea again, if you’d like?”

Touraine hesitated, eyes still on the board, her robed king surrounded by two tiny foot soldiers and a watchtower with its ladder. She picked him up and ran her calloused thumb along the smooth, dark wood of his turban.

“The bookseller sent a message. They want to know where you stand. I think they heard about our trip.”

“And what of it?” Luca’s brief joy faded into touchy irritation. She muttered, “Fine. They’re more important now, anylight. If I can’t get to the books, it has to be the people. I need to end this. A Qazāli family was murdered in Atyid—did you know that? And later, two of the city’s blackcoats were found hacked apart.”

Touraine hadn’t known that.

“If we don’t come to terms with these clandestine little meetings, the next step is war. I can barely hold Cantic off as it is. But I won’t sell my empire on the hope of a few magic seeds that never sprout. What do you think? Will the rebels listen?”

Touraine recognized the old folk warning. An itch gathered between Touraine’s shoulder blades. She knew what she wanted. And she knew what Luca wanted. Sky above, she was tired of being a pawn. Who was to say she couldn’t be a camel knight or stand at the watchtower?

Who was to say she couldn’t be the player instead?

Touraine turned the king over in her fingers, running her thumb over the smooth wood.

“It’s hard to say, Your Highness.” Touraine shrugged. There were too many things she didn’t know how to talk about. The magic. The Sands. Her own creeping discontent. “They don’t seem…”

“I’ve already asked you—be frank with me. Would you tiptoe around your soldiers like this?”

Touraine tightened her lips and shook her head tersely.

“Then open your sky-falling mouth. What do you think about the rebels? Is their friendship worth slapping the face of every noble from here to Béson?”

Luca’s temper flared like a struck match, and Touraine lit like a cannon fuse. She slammed the king on the board with a satisfying clack.

“If it wouldn’t get me hanged, I would slap the face of every noble from here to Béson and back again. It makes me sick to see you court them. You want to stop this rebellion, then give the Qazāli what they want. Free them. Do it and they might even become allies. You don’t need the nobles’ approval for it. You’re the queen.”

“Those nobles are my people, and if I don’t end this rebellion the right way, my uncle won’t even give me my throne. Then the Qazāli get nothing. Or did our dear friends tell you they’ll help me oust my uncle by force?”

Luca flicked a hand dismissively. As if Touraine couldn’t possibly understand the stakes. Touraine understood them all too well.

“Our friends? You want their magic, but what have you done for them except finally treat them like humans? They offer advice, and you ignore it so you can chase down their secrets and almost get drowned for your trouble. Is everything yours for the taking? Do you care about anyone but yourself? Guérin almost died for you—I’d bet she wishes she had.”

A muscle twitched in Luca’s jaw. Good.

“I’ve changed Qazāl for them,” Luca said through gritted teeth. “The children I sponsored have already started schooling. Qazāli are working under better conditions than they’ve ever had, thanks to me going against the nobles. Guérin has the best medical treatment in my considerable power. Because of that, she’ll survive.”

“Without a leg. Do you know what it’s like for a soldier to lose her fucking leg?”

Luca raised her chin and faced Touraine full on. She folded her hands slowly on her cane in front of her. “No. I don’t. Tell me.”

Touraine had gone too far, and she