Page 35 of Lords of Ruin: Savage

Damien sniggers. "Vincent is the King. Always in control, always watching. The King doesn’t move much, but everything moves because of him. He doesn’t need to get his hands dirty—he has the rest of the board to do it for him. That’s Vincent. He pulls strings, manipulates, plays the long game. And when he sets his sights on something, it’s his. No exceptions."

A chill rolls down my spine. "That sounds... possessive."

Damien’s expression darkens slightly. "Because it is."

I swallow, my pulse quickening. "And Cast?"

"The Rook," Damien says, shifting his focus to the piece. "Rooks are powerful, but they work best with a plan. They hold theboard together, reinforce the front lines, and strike when no one expects.”

I frown, trying to piece it all together. "But you said Rooks are strategic. If Cast is losing his mind, doesn’t that make him reckless?"

Damien huffs a quiet laugh. "Reckless? No. Unstable? Maybe. But Cast has a way of making even his chaos look like a masterpiece."

I glance at the board. "And you? Why are you the Knight?"

"Because Knights don’t follow a straight path," Damien says simply, moving the piece in a L-shape. "We move differently. Unexpectedly. We get close, hit from angles no one sees coming. We do what others can’t—or won’t." His voice drops, becoming hardened. "And when the board starts to crumble, the Knight is the one still standing, still fighting."

The seriousness in his tone makes my chest ache. "You mean protecting."

His jaw tenses. "Same thing."

I let that settle for a beat, then point to the Pawns. "And them?"

"Pawns get sacrificed."

A shiver runs through me, but before I can dwell on it, he moves a piece and gestures for me to do the same. "Now it’s your turn. "

A shiver runs through me. "So if I am a pawn, that means I get sacrificed. Great."

Damien leans back, watching me closely. "You really think that’s still true?"

I stare at the board, at the tiny, disposable Pawn standing in front of the King. Cast calls me ‘Pawn.’ The lowest piece on the board. Disposable. But the Queen… she’s the most powerful. The one with the freedom to move wherever she wants.

"I don’t know," I murmur. "Maybe I’m just another Pawn in your game."

Damien’s eyes darken. "You think Vincent would waste this much time on a Pawn?"

I swallow roughly, moving my pawn forward one space before looking up at him through my eyelashes.

He tilts his head, studying me like he’s waiting for me to understand a concept I can’t quite grasp. "The King only moves for two things—checkmate… and his Queen."

My breath catches. "That’s not?—"

"You tell me," he murmurs, voice low and unreadable. "Are you a Pawn, or are you the piece the whole game revolves around?"

I don’t know how to answer that.

Before I can dwell on it, Damien moves a piece and gestures for me to do the same. "Your turn, Pet.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at my lips as I clumsily move my rook to the left. Damien hums in disapproval, reaching over to adjust it. His fingers brush against mine.

"That’s not how a rook moves, Trouble."

I swallow. "Maybe I like to play by my own rules."

He chuckles, low and deep. "That would explain a lot. But in chess, reckless moves get you taken."

I glance up, catching the gleam in his storm-gray eyes. "Is that a warning?"

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