Page 32 of Echoes

I take a wild guess at which one is the king, lifting it up with my fingers. "Got it."

He laughs. "Theopponent'sking. Essentially, you have to trap it. I believe Wikipedia refers to it asthreatening the king with inescapable capture."

"Kings are meant to be powerful though," I mumble back. "A good king would never allow himself to be caught."

"Exactly. But in chess, you control the pieces. While the king might be powerful, he means nothing without the control and protection of the board."

My eyebrows furrow. "Interesting theory you have there, Dr. Smith."

He smiles. "In fact, the most powerful piece on the chess board is the queen."

My head snaps up as I glance at him suspiciously. What the hell is he talking about? There's a slight shift in tone to his voice, making me think we're no longer talking about chess.

In theory we're talking about it, but with Dr. Smith, there's always a hidden motive. I have no doubt that today's session is more than meets the eye. I might not know much about chess, but I know it's a psychological game of strategy. We're doing this for a reason… and for once, I can't help but suspect it's nothing to do with my mental state.

"Right," I answer nonchalantly. "And these?" I point to a few pieces.

"Pawns."

"How fitting," I mumble sarcastically. "We're really just going to play chess?"

Dr. Smith laughs, getting comfortable in a sitting position. "We could talk about your feelings if you like."

"Chess, it is."

After giving me a brief rundown of the pieces and available moves, we start our game. I'm so confused—he should have just given me a Rubik's Cube to solve. But as we progress, I start to get the hang of things. Clearly, I'm no match for him though. He easily beats me with a smug look.

"We'll play again tomorrow," he says, gesturing to a clock on the wall.

I'm surprised to find the hour session has already passed. Right on schedule, the door opens as the guard looks inside,frowning in confusion at us on the ground. He stays quiet though, stepping forward to reach for me before Dr. Smith snaps at him firmly.

"She can walk. I'm sure she's more than capable of walking down the hallway to Dr. Markel's office."

I give him a rare smile of appreciation, heading out the door. It's nice not being manhandled for five minutes, even though I want to choke him with a rook.

The trip to the doctor is quick—some more ointment, general questions about my health, and a goodbye.

Afterwards, I'm taken back to Whittingham's office, stomach growling. When I enter, he's not alone.

Familiar salt and pepper hair, dressed in a suit worth more than my existence. The two men look at me as I enter, and it's easy to feel the difference in power between them. While Whitface pretends to hold power, the older man exudes it.

"Ms. White. Welcome back," Mr. Whittingham says. "Before you continue, I believe you've met already."

A hostile glance comes my way, and I give a brief nod. "Yes."

"I'll be in touch, Arthur," Alexander murmurs. "Keep me updated."

I swallow nervously, not wanting to deal with Alexander, but thankfully, he just gives me a cold glare before disappearing out of the room.

It takes a few seconds for my nervous system to calm back down, and I awkwardly point to the pile of paperwork. "Shall I continue?"

Mr. Whittingham nods. "You've been excused from class today. I imagine you won't be done by free time either," he taunts, sitting down in his chair. "Once you've sorted the piles alphabetically, I also expect each individual letter to be in alphabetical order based on surname."

My eyes scan over the paperwork. I should have seen this coming, to be fair.

Holding back a sigh, I perch myself on the ground and get to work.

It's going to be a long day.

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