Page 89 of Fallen Star

Then there’s that person I remind him of. The one he didn’t want to talk about.

I want to know more.

So, I vow to get it. Eventually.

Meanwhile, Jake hurries to my side, and after him, others drift over. Sebastian and Tanya, then Isla, who looks at the wood with wide-eyed wonder. Even Elijah joins, although he maintains a careful distance.

Matt remains at his table, arms crossed as he talks quietly with Henry.

They both look pointedly at me, then leave the courtyard.

My heart drops in disappointment. I was so happy when I saw Matt—of all people—here with me. Well, I wasn’t happy that he’d also been taken here, and that he’s changed so much, but it was nice to see someone I’ve known all my life. Someone from Presque Isle.

But he belongs to the queen now. And I have a feeling that I best not forget that.

Aurora gets up and heads in our direction, and I think she’s going to join us, but she simply walks by and situates herself at another fountain, book in hand.

“So,” Jake says once she’s passed. “What are we making? Maybe a group project? A tic-tac-toe board or something?”

“Or a chess board.” Isla’s eyes light up.

“Aren’t you a bit young for chess?” I ask her.

“I’m thirteen.” She straightens her shoulders, looking insulted by my comment. “I started playing when I was seven.”

“Noted,” I say, reminding myself to not underestimate her. Clearly, she’s done something right to survive around here. “And sure. We can make a chessboard.”

Kings. Queens. Knights. Bishops. Pawns.

I start running through the different pieces in my mind, since I went through a brief chess phase after watching that television series about the chess prodigy girl on Netflix.

“I’ll make the king,” Isla decides. “It might feel good to… take a knife to him.”

She holds up the blade, and her eyes gleam with something shocking—something dangerous.

I’m definitely not going to underestimate her.

From there, we each decide which piece we’re going to work on first.

I claim the knight, without hesitation.

The knight is the only piece that moves differently from the others on the board. It’s not the most powerful, but it’s unpredictable, weaving its way across the grid in an L-shape no one ever seems to expect. It doesn’t charge forward recklessly like the pawns, or overwhelm with sheer force like the queen. It’s strategic. A piece that survives by staying flexible, adaptable—by thinking outside the box.

Kind of like me.

“I’ll take the bishop,” Jake declares, like he’s just claimed the ultimate prize.

I stifle a laugh, unsurprised by his choice.

“What does the bishop do again?” he asks.

“It moves diagonally,” Isla tells him.

Jake’s brow furrows. “Diagonally? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He stares at the block of wood, as if it’s personally offended him. “That’s kind of lame.”

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