Chapter 30
ANYA
My hands shake when I lift the phone and check my messages. I hope I didn’t wait too long. What are the rules about this, anyway?
My mind is whirring with the tip from Eli. He was not as unaware of what happened last night as I thought he was. Now all I have to do is play it safe with the Irish and have a not-so-casual game of chess with Semyon.
I hate that he’s using Ophelia’s number to get to me. It creeps me out seeing the messages under my bestie’s number.
Ophelia
How’s your brother?
I know how they’ll play this already. They’ll ease into a conversation like we’re friends before they put the screws to me. I can already hear the deep brogue and see the ruthless eyes.
Fine
Ophelia
And how’s your husband?
They’re testing me, looking for a weakness.
Boring. Plays too much chess.
Ophelia
Cute. Keep your ears open. We’ll be in touch.
The moment the message is sent, I toss the phone onto the bed and squeeze my eyes shut. Where are they? What are they planning?
I need to check on Stefan to assure myself that he’s alright. I walk to the kitchen, ignoring every thought that comes up about whatever’s going on with Eli and Semyon. Watching them beat each other like that was awful.
I can’t imagine how a questioning would go.
I find Zoya in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone. “Hey, beautiful,” she says with a bright smile. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks?” My voice is hoarse. I lean against the counter, the weight in my chest making it hard to plaster on a smile. “Stefan get off to school alright?”
“Yup. Yana took him today since he overslept and missed the bus.” She sobers. “We didn’t mention anything to him about Eli. We wanted to leave that up to you. ”
I give her a small smile. I look to the doorway at the sound of three footsteps—Grandfather, plus his cane. He hobbles in, his gnarled hand on top of the cane, dressed in the same pressed pants and button-down uniform he always wears.
“My, my, if it isn’t the loveliest ladies in the house,” he says with a wink. “I already saw Yana this morning and said the same thing, so don’t think I’m playing favorites.”
Zoya shakes her head and smiles at him as she turns to put the kettle on.
“You’ve had a rough few days, I hear,” Grandfather says, pulling out a seat.
I get the teabags while Zoya puts out a simple breakfast of kasha , a warm porridge served with butter and honey. My mouth waters.
We talk about simple things, but no one mentions the elephant in the room.
My phone buzzes with a text. I stare at my phone as if it would bite me.
“Are you alright?” Zoya asks with concern. “First you looked like you might pass out again, and now you look like you want to toss your phone out the window.”
I give her a wan smile. “I’m alright. I just need to eat.”
The door swings open, and Matvei steps in.
“Hey.” He makes himself a cup of tea and sits next to Grandfather. “Anya, you know where Semyon is?”
I blow out a shaky breath. “He’s with Eli. ”
Matvei’s brows shoot up, which doesn’t exactly make me feel any better. “Ah. Right.”
He chats with Grandfather about a game he watched while I focus on eating my breakfast and ignoring the buzzing texts on my phone. Just as I push my plate away, the door opens, and Semyon steps inside with Eli.
Zoya draws in a sharp breath. “You two look terrible ,” she says, shaking her head. Matvei narrows his eyes on Eli, likely not convinced he should be in our presence without handcuffs, but Grandfather just sips his tea, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Eli greets everyone with a smile. “Yeah, would love a shower, Zoya.”
Semyon, as always, is an unreadable force. “We’ll put him up in the guest room on the second floor, the one furthest down the hall.” Interesting. The one furthest away from us , most likely.
Zoya nods. “I can help, Semyon.” She steps over to Eli. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room. There’s an en suite shower you can use.” She throws Semyon a glance. “His… status?”
Semyon blows out a breath and puts his hands in his pockets. “He’s a guest, Zoya.”
Oh my god. Was she about to lock him up or call a team of guards?
Yes. Yes, she was.
Semyon sits down next to me, and I give his hand a quick squeeze. “I need to talk to you. ”
His brows lower as he makes a cup of tea. “In a few minutes, of course.”
I clear my throat. “Now.”
His expression doesn’t change, but a flicker of something unreadable passes across his face. “Fine.”
Semyon walks me to the pantry and places his hand on my lower back. I melt a little, leaning into him.
I will never forget what he said to Eli in that room.
Never.
I clear my throat. “I want to play a game, please.”
A pause. His lips twitch in disbelief. “A… game.”
“Yes.”
He exhales sharply through his nose, adjusting his glasses.
I can’t tell him straight out. If I do, someone on the inside here will know, will rat me out, and we’re all fucked.
He exhales sharply through his nose. “Anya, I don’t have time?—”
“It’s chess.” My eyes bore into his. I try my best to put the weight of what I need to tell him behind my gaze. If he doesn’t understand what I’m saying…
His hands still. He regards me quietly for a long minute, studying me as if searching. I don’t blame him.
“Alright, if that’s what you need.”
“I do. ”
Leaning forward, his voice drops. “If I play, you’ll tell me what this is all about, won’t you?”
I clear my throat. “Eventually, yes.”
The chessboard is set up in the study, the dark wood pieces polished from heavy use. Semyon sits across from me, his fingers barely touching his pieces when he makes a move. He doesn’t rush or speak.
It feels like the chessboard between us is a silent battleground. I can hardly keep my hands from shaking.
Semyon watches me, those ice-blue eyes sharp. Calculating. He’s waiting ostensibly for my next move, but I know he’s watching me. Reading me.
I pick up a pawn and roll it between my fingers. My throat is tight, my heartbeat heavy.
“You always underestimate the pawns,” I begin.
His expression doesn’t change, but he’s watching me so closely. “Pawns are expendable,” he says. “They’re sacrifices.”
I place the pawn down—not hard, not an attack, but to the side. Out of place. Obviously wrong.
“They don’t always move willingly,” I whisper.
His fingers still on the table. The air between us shifts as he sits up straighter, and I match his posture.
He’s listening now.
I slide another pawn forward. My hands tremble. I keep my expression neutral. “Pawns don’t always move the way you expect. ”
Something darkens his expression. His fingers twitch, hovering over a knight, but he doesn’t move it.
I slide my hand to the drawer that houses the other pieces of various games, some colored, some black like these. I find a green piece and carefully put it on the board, covering it with my hand so only he sees.
He picks up a knight. Thinking. He turns it over in his fingers. “No. But they only go where they’re allowed.”
A chill runs down my spine. He’s onto something but doesn’t know exactly what yet. I could cry with relief.
I move another pawn. It’s a weak move—too exposed. Semyon notices. His eyes flick from the board to me.
“That’s a mistake, Anya,” he murmurs.
I swallow hard and whisper, “Not if the pawn doesn’t have a choice.”
His fingers freeze against the rook.
Slowly, he moves his queen—not forward in attack, but sideways. A defensive move.
“There’s always a choice.”
I glance at the board, my chest tight. I pick up another pawn and set it forward, my words a whispered rush. “Not when you’re being watched, and every move you make puts the others in danger.”
Voices sound behind us. His aunt and uncle. “I can’t believe after all he’s been through, they’re playing chess,” he mutters, loud enough for us to hear him. I roll my eyes .
Semyon goes completely still. He holds my gaze. Finally, he moves his queen forward, blocking my king.
A silent declaration. No one is taking you.
I blink, a hot tear rolling down my cheek, and reach for his hand. I give his a squeeze.
“There’s too much at risk,” I whisper. “You can’t play recklessly.”
Semyon shifts in his chair, his eyes locked on mine. “And you can’t play to lose.”
I finally move the knight, a bold move, one that puts me in danger but sets up an opening. My heart hammers.
“If I fall, the rest of the board crumbles,” I whisper.
He doesn’t blink but moves his rook, cutting off my knight’s escape.
“Then I won’t let you fall.”
I believe him. Oh god, I believe him.
He leans forward with a chilling smile. “That’s why we win. No more defense.” He moves his queen again, a final shift.
A setup. A trap.
"One more move.” He’s watching me. “And they’re in checkmate."
My chest tightens, something hot and unbearable flooding through me. He understands. He’s already planning. Already calculating.
Already preparing for war.