Page 34 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

Her expression softens with relief. "I’ll handle everything on my end. You just focus on… breathing. Okay?"

I nod because it’s easier than arguing. She thanks me, says she’ll send over the paperwork, and after another few seconds of lingering concern, she signs off.

I exhale and close my laptop, dropping my head against the couch. My temples throb, my eyes burn, and I’m so damn tired.

"Are you okay?"

I jerk up at the voice, blinking to find Damien standing a few feet away, watching me. His hands are in his pockets, but his gaze is sharp, taking me apart piece by piece.

"Yeah," I say automatically.

His head tilts. "Try again."

I let out a humorless laugh and press my palms over my face. "I don’t know."

The couch dips beside me. He doesn’t touch me, doesn’t say anything at first. Just sits, close enough that his presence wraps around me, a quiet anchor I don’t know how to accept.

"Harlow thinks I should take a leave," I murmur. "A sympathetic academic leave."

He hums. "And?"

I shake my head. "And I said yes. I don’t know if it was the right choice, but I said yes."

His voice is softer this time. "It is not permanent."

I nod, staring down at my hands. The truth settles like a weight in my chest, heavy and unmoving.

"I just don’t know who I am without this," I admit, my voice small. "Without school, without a plan. I don’t know how to just… be."

Damien exhales, slow and steady. "You’re still you, Willow. Even without school. Even without a plan. You don’t have to figure everything out all at once."

I glance at him, searching for reassurance. "You make it sound so easy."

He snickers, nudging my knee with his. "I never said it was easy. Just possible."

I let out a breathy laugh, and for the first time in what feels like forever, my spirit lightens inside me. "Thanks, Damien."

He tilts his head. Then I say, "So, you never did tell me—why are you guys called the Chessmen?"

A slow smile tugs at his lips. "That’s classified information."

I raise a brow. "Oh, come on."

He leans back against the couch, feigning deep thought. “Do you know how to play chess?”

I shake my head. “Not even a little.”

He stands suddenly and holds out a hand. "Come on."

I hesitate before placing my hand in his. "Where are we going?"

"Outside. I’m going to teach you."

A few minutes later, we settle on a bench near the fire pit, a small travel chessboard between us. Damien begins setting up the pieces, his fingers deftly placing them with practiced ease.

"Each piece has a role," he explains. "The King, the most important. The Queen, the most powerful. The Rook, strategic. The Bishop and Knight, versatile. And then… the Pawns."

I watch as he taps each one. "And you three? Where do you fit in?"

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