there something else even more amusing that—”
“Zoé!” snapped Liaze, even as she reddened.
Zoé turned away from the princess, and grinning widely the handmaiden began fluffing a towel ere laying it across the fireguard.
“Why, yes, I do,” said Luc. “Père Léon and I spent many an eve in the game.”
“My whole family plays échecs,” said Liaze. “It came to us through père and mère. Of all of us, perhaps Borel is the best, but he met his match when Camille came into our lives.”
“Camille?”
“Alain’s new bride.”
“And Alain is your brother,” said Luc. “The one who was cursed.”
“Oui.”
Margaux came into the infirmary. “Princess, though this is but his second morn here, and though he is badly bruised, I believe Luc is fit enough to take other quarters.”
“Ah, splendid,” said Liaze. “We shall install him in the guest wing.”
“He will yet need treatment for his forehead and those awful knocks he took,” said Margaux. “Still, he can come here for the salves and the ointment and the drink.”
Luc groaned. “I will yet have to drink that evil concoction?”
“Certainement,” declared Margaux, smiling.
Luc sighed and turned up a hand and, grinning, said, “If I must, I must.” He turned to Liaze. “Healer’s orders, you know.”
“Come, Luc,” said Liaze. “I shall show you to your quarters.”
Standing nearby, Zoé said, “The azure suite, my lady?”
“Oui,” said Liaze.
Zoé turned away and smiled to herself, for the azure suite was as close to the princess’s own rooms as a guest could be and not have accommodations in the royal wing itself.
That afternoon the falcons returned, winging in one by one—first from the Summerwood, then the Winterwood, and lastly the Springwood, for it lay the farthest away—and they bore messages: no Redcaps or Trolls had attacked the other manors. When that last message had come, Liaze sighed in relief, for Alain and Celeste were safe, and Borel was away, visiting Lord Roulan, Lady Michelle’s father. But Arnot, the steward of Winterwood, reported all was well therein. Only the Autumnwood had suffered an incursion; perhaps they had been after Luc, but then again it could have been a raid on Autumnwood Manor itself.
“Check.”
“Ah, Princess,” said Luc, “perhaps you have fallen for what my foster père calls . . . hmm, let me term it a gambit.”
“So you say,” said Liaze.
“Oui, so I say. Chevalier to red king’s three.”
They were sitting at a small cherrywood table in a chamber in the sunset wing. Other small tables and chairs of like wood sat here and there in the room, with damier boards for playing dames, or échiquiers for échecs. The playing sets were of varying colors, and some were carved of ivory or amber, or of onyx and jade and other semiprecious stone. In one corner sat a large round table, cherrywood as well, with chairs about, a deck of taroc cards thereon. Against one wall sat a long sideboard, and as with all the furniture, it was cherrywood, too. On the opposite wall heavy brown stones embraced a large fireplace, and logs blazed within.
The floor of the chamber was of pale brown marble, and the walls of a slightly darker hue, with the ceiling white.
On the walls themselves were sconces ’round, holding lanterns alight. Portraits of Borel and Liaze and Alain and Celeste, as well as their parents—Valeray and Saissa—looked out upon the players. As if fixing them in his mind, these Luc had studied over the past three days of gaming with the princess.
“So, you move the chevalier to block me,” said Liaze. “Well then, green hierophant takes that impudent red knight. Check.—Oh my, that was a mistake.”
Luc smiled. “Tower takes hierophant. Check and mate.”
Liaze stared at the board. “I could have seen that coming, had I not been too eager to capture your chevalier.”
“You have captured more than one chevalier, my lady.”
Liaze looked up to
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