Page 119 of Unveiled

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.

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