Heart of Ash (The Dark Arcane Series: Book 1)

Chapter Seven

Darius walked into the drawing room to find several handmaids gathered in a corner, and servants lining the walls, all of whom stopped whispering upon seeing him enter. His eyes fell upon the person he came to see. His mother was sat with her head resting on top of her hands, opposite the Captain of the Guard, engrossed in the game of pyesheu that was set on the table between them. Her golden hair, ironed into a straightness only seen in silk, draped in front of her face.

She placed down her counter and laughed. "You're going to have to do better than that, my friend. You've only five moves left."

Captain Adar huffed and shifted in his seat. "Fighting talk there, Your Majesty, and yet you've only three left yourself."

She only smiled and shook her head as the Captain focused on his next move. Queen Mayeve was a slender woman, the consequence of many failed pregnancies, and yet she held the image of a fierce, proud individual, with a tongue sharper than a sword.

Darius gave a delicate cough, stealing their attention away from the chequered board. If he were being honest, he was slightly annoyed they hadn't already addressed him. "Mother, you sent me for?"

"Darius! I'm glad you came, just let me finish up here, it's about to end," she winked. "Come, sit by me." She patted the chair next to her.

He loved his mother dearly, but really?—he wasn't a dog.

Nevertheless, he sat down, greeting the Captain of the Guard with a neat nod. "Captain Adar, good to see you as always."

"And you as well, Your Highness," he replied, eyes fixed on the board.

Darius fought a shiver at his cool dark tone; no matter if it was the first or the hundredth time you heard the Captain speak, it never lost its power. His tone had an evenness to it, a lack of variation that drained the life out of the room.

He'd been around the castle since Darius could remember as commander of the Elites. When his own father was occupied with royal duties, it was Adar who would take him out to play with swords until Darius grew old enough to realise he found no thrill in swordplay, much to everyone's disappointment. Too bad for them he grew quite content with being the disappointment.

Though he acted decades older than him, his appearance spoke of a young man; with a close shaven stubble, and short cropped hair. He was a stoic man, broad and powerful from years spent training with a blade. He attempted to appear friendly, but he wasn't a father to Darius—though he tried hard enough.

Queen Mayeve explained, "Don't mind him, he's just a sore loser." Her voice grew excited. "Can you believe I'm about to beat our esteemed battle strategist in a game of strategy?"

He inclined his head with a smile, an honest one for once. "I can, actually, considering you've beaten him almost every other time."

And every other person she'd ever played against.

The first few times he'd heard about it, he wasn't sure if they'd been letting her win on purpose, but then he played a game against the Captain himself and was thrashed so horribly he couldn't look him in the eye for days. He, himself, was a very strong player but even he still hadn't the guts to play him again.

She pushed his shoulder gently and grinned. "Oh, hush, the feeling never gets old."

He saw the cup next to her contained saabkeam and took a large sip. Saabkeam—the loviest drink in all the ages.

He had a closer look at her counters. Strategy games were his bread and butter.

"Aren't you actually losing? Isn't the aim to have all your counters turned on the black side? The game's almost over." Her pieces were mostly white.