Page 3 of A Fragile Heart

Taaki was a game of elements and conquering, water vs fire vs wind vs earth. It was at its best when four people played, taking other pieces and claiming the board. There were pieces for offense, defense, movement, and effect, or chaos, pieces. The more players, the more that was happening at once, the more there was to track, the more difficult it became. Everyone got two moves per round, and you were considered an excellent player if you could win a four player game in twenty moves. Bakhtiar had never understood why that was the standard for excellency.

Elements were randomly assigned by drawing lots at the very beginning. Fire was the favored element, and earth was considered the worst element to draw, though he'd never once noticed anything that made one element stronger than the other. You had to use each one slightly differently, but that was all. The pieces were set, and you started with all of them right from the beginning, unlike many card games where you only started with a few cards and drew more from a stack as the game went on, which was slightly more interesting.

Lord Hesh puffed up with smug satisfaction as he drew fire.

Bakhtiar said nothing as he drew earth.

At his insistence, Lord Sarakish started the game, meaning Bakhtiar would go last. Sarakish laid his first two pieces, safe but effective moves, and they went round in circles.

Stifling a sigh because everything was going the same as it always did when he played this stupid game, Bakhtiar laid out his chosen pieces. On it went, until they reached the fifth round and he took his turn.

Everyone stopped, staring at the board in disbelief. After a moment, Lord Hesh broke the heavy, awkward silence. "Did you just win in ten moves, Your Highness?"

Why did people always say it that way? Like they couldn't believe he was capable of such a thing? "Yes. Would you like to try another round?"

The board was reset in silence, everyone chose to keep their elements, and they played again.

That time he beat them in eight moves. Because this game was childishly easy and he did not understand why everyone loved it so much. "As I said, I find it boring. Once you memorize the patterns the game is entirely too predictable." Chess was even easier, since that was only two people and thirty-two pieces total.

Only one person had ever understood his impatience with the games, a visitor from the Great Desert named Rook. He'd been sitting alone in the empty library that night, unable to sleep, wishing he could read the way other people read, so easily and effortlessly, when Lord Rook had come upon him equally restless. They had played a game of chess to a stalemate, and it was the most interesting game of chess Bakhtiar had ever played.

It was a fond memory, especially how approving Rook had been of his so-called skills, even though knowing how to play a silly game had never seemed particularly skillful to him. Though he also knew Lord Rook was famous for his chess playing somehow, so his approval genuinely meant a lot.

"Predictable," Hesh said in a strangled tone. "I see. Thank you for indulging us, Your Highness."

"Thank you for having me," Bakhtiar said reflexively before returning to his table. He looked hopefully to where the pretty book-reader had been, but sadly they were not at their table anymore, and a quick sweep of the garden showed them not around at all.

Ah, well. He wouldn't have been able to listen with all the conversation anyway.

Gentle fingers touched his cheek, drawing his attention again, and Farrokh smiled as he offered up wine. "I didn't know that was why you found the game boring, my prince."

Bakhtiar's mouth twisted. "Yes, I'm quite aware everyone thinks I simply never bothered to learn it properly." Because he never learned or did anything properly.

"No," Farrokh said, looking dismayed. "That wasn't—"

"Your Highness."

Bakhtiar took hold of the hand still resting against his chest, squeezing gently, and keeping hold as he turned his full attention to the looming guards. "What is it?"

"Your father needs to speak with you on an important matter."

"Of course, I'm on my way."

The guards left and Bakhtiar braced himself to stand. Sitting, laying, movingdownbasically, was of no real concern, though it always hurt a bit. Standing, however, or any stairs at all, always hurt significantly. The more weight he had to put on the leg, the more up-down movement at once, the greater the pain. Not that he'd tell anyone, because all he would hear was a bunch ofshouldn't have been so reckless, this is why we want you to be more careful, why were you climbing that stupid wall to begin with.

A baby bird, that was why. He'd seen a baby bird lying on the ground, still alive but struggling greatly, and he'd climbed the wall to put it back in its nest. That was why his grip had been so poor, as he'd tried to reach up to the nest that was every so slightly out of reach. He'd gotten the bird safely home and then slipped trying to shift to climb down.

No one had asked, not even his concubines. They'd just been upset with him, though worried and fussing too. Still, like everyone else they'd just assumed he'd been doing something stupid. It shouldn't hurt so much, but it did, so much deeper than his actual leg.

Once he was certain he'd give nothing away he pushed to his feet, trying to keep most of his weight on his good leg though that didn't entirely work. "Shall we?"

Farrokh returned his smile. "Of course, my prince. I hope the matter isn't too dire."

Bakhtiar hoped so too, but he had a feeling he knew what was about to happen. Please, please let him be wrong.

Given it was still mid-morning, and the guards hadn't given him explicit direction, he sought his father out in his primary, public-facing office, where officials, clerks, and morecould stop by. Versus the private office nobody but a select few were allowed to enter, where he could get actual work done in peace.

In the antechamber, he paused to greet the chamber woman, who was tasked with ensuring that water, tea, and certain wines were kept stocked, as well as foods that would keep well and could be eaten with little to no effort. "Keesha, I thought you'd managed to talk Dariush out of those atrocious crackers. Haven't they made all of you miserable enough?"

---