30 Days of Demonfire

Chess

"Sorry, Cerdian," I apologize as I knock his king over with my knight. "But I am the master of chess, so don't feel too bad about it."

Cerdian glares down at the chess board, trying to find an error or some way he could have saved himself several moves back. He won't find any; I've been playing him for a while, now.

"Mistress," Damian says from the couch.

"'Scuze me?" I demand, turning to the couch where Damian's reading some boring poetry anthology.

"You'd be the mistress of chess." He turns a page like he's not even interested in the conversation, but I already know that Damian fancies himself the best there is at chess—he fancies himself the best there is at everything, really. I can't help myself.

"You got a problem, Wayne?"

"Other than your improper grammar, no." He's being coy. How cute.

"I bet you do," I sing, clasping my hands behind my back. "Think you're better at chess than me, huh?"

"That is not true," he assures me lazily, still reading. "I know that I am."

"I say you're not."

"You would be wrong."

"Then prove it."

"That's hardly necessary. Growing up, my mother brought me the worldwide chess masters to improve my game."

Cerdian pipes up now, sore at losing to me but always happy to poke fun at Damian. "Are you sure they didn't let you win because you were a kid?"

"Yes," Damian answers simply.

"How?"

"Because after they lost I killed them."

Eeeee... Creepy. I can only see the back of his head, but I swear that he's smirking. I'm not sure whether or not I believe him.

"I knew it, Cerdian," I say, and Cerdian's still looking at Damian like he might have grown fangs or a forked tongue or both since he spoke last. I know the feeling, but I've given up on looking at him like that. "He's scared to play against me."

Cerdian nods. "I bet."

"I am not scared," he snaps.

"Sure."

"I'm not going to be manipulated into playing a game of chess with you that easily, Grayson," he says, but he puts the book down and I'm grinning.

"Better change the name from Robin to chicken, then. Can't have you ruining the legacy."

"Instead of pixie booties, you could wear chicken feet," Cerdian suggests.

"Very well then," Damian growls, teeth gritted, and I won round one. Round two is the actual chess game.

Damian takes the black pieces and I take the white pieces, which I try not to think too hard about, and he is really good. He can not only spot when I'm being strategic or sneaky, he can be strategic or sneaky without me even noticing. I'm playing catch up a lot, although I manage to get the upper hand once or twice.

"You know," I mention as I take his knight with my bishop, "on Tamaran they play what's essentially multiple level chess. It's got more pieces, more rules, and takes a hell of a lot longer."

"Apparently that does not aid one's skill level in this game," he observes as he takes my bishop with his rook.

"You'd be surprised," I answer as I move out my queen.

Damian raises an eyebrow at the board. "You're moving your queen into play."

"The queen's the most badass, of course I am."

He just sighs tiredly, but everything's working out the way I want it to.

Almost, anyway.

We end up in a stalemate with both our kings and queens out. This is ridiculous. Damian's so mad I'm expecting him to flip the board, which honestly is a win enough for me. Cerdian got bored ten minutes into the stalemate. That was half an hour ago.

"Damian, can't we just call it a dr—"

"It is not a draw," he says, his voice eerily calm considering his posture and the way he keeps gnashing his teeth together. "There is always a winner."

"I knew you were a sore loser, but X'hal, you're taking this way too far."

He narrows his eyes at me and I sigh.

And then, after a few minutes, I see an opening. I don't know if Damian slipped up or if I was so bored that I hadn't been paying attention. But as soon as I move Damian knows he's done for. He grips the chess board in both his hands and he really looks like he's about to toss it across the room.

He moves and it's my turn again and I don't go for it. I pretend I didn't see the opening. Damian narrows his eyes until they're slits of white peeking out from the green domino mask. "What are you doing?"

"Dying of boredom playing against you," I answer, and I lean my cheek on my knuckles.

"Don't be stupid."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say sweetly.

"It does not count if you let me win," he sulks.

"If I were letting you win—which I'm not saying I am—doesn't a surrender count as a victory?"

"No. It counts as a surrender."

"Great X'hal, you're annoying."

"You initiated this game," he points out.

"Yeah," I mutter, "and I'm about to end it with a starbolt." I raise my eyes to his domino mask and I add, "And I'm not gonna aim it at the board."

"We both know that I can defeat you in combat," he says in a bored tone as he scrutinizes the board.

"Um, excuse me, I beat you last time," I remind him indignantly.

"You cheated."

"I did not cheat. I couldn't have known that Alfred was going to scare you." I grin as the memory plays in my mind.

He gives me a warning glare. "Startled. The animal startled me."

Nobody's moved in a couple minutes and I'm losing my patience. "Look, I want you to win, okay? Just take my king already."

"It is not about wanting to win," Damian says, being overly somber and all around a killjoy. "It is about being logical and using strategy."

"I know, that. Whatever. Would you just go? Please?"

Without looking away from me, Damian very calmly tips his king to the side, laying it down in a forfeit.

"Hey!" I yelp, indignant. "You just lectured be about doing that! How's that logic or strategic?"

"It isn't," he says, and he gets up with a flourish of his cape and he doesn't even help me put the stupid thing away.