Page 72 of Love Is A Draw
Greg lingered just behind them, his free hand clasped at his back, gaze steady. “You raised a mind sharper than most generals, sir. She’s changed everything for us. Thank you.”
Dmitry stared for a long moment. “You’re the Black Knight?”
“No, it’s Gail and Victor now. Sharing the honor as well as the burden.” Greg flattened his lips as one did at the end of one era, making room for the next to begin. “She won my title first.”
“I thought I taught her to win,” Dmitry murmured. “But she taught me to be victorious.”
Rachel’s eyes brimmed.
Greg stepped in and gently clapped Dmitry once on the back. “Come, Mr. Tarkov. My coach is ready. And I believe someone would like a word before we go.”
Dmitry turned slowly, following Greg’s glance. Victor.
Still standing at the edge of the dock, near the now-abandoned chessboard. Still watching.
CHAPTER 31
Victor stood apart from the others near the edge of the dock, where the wind smelled of salt and coal and change. His posture held rigid, but his hands trembled. He hadn’t dared move.
Dmitry’s gaze found him—and held. The years melted away in that moment, and Victor was the boy before his master again.
Yes, I lost at the tournament. I kissed your granddaughter. And let her fall from a hot air balloon.
Greg gave a subtle nod and turned away, granting them space.
Victor moved into it, slow and deliberate, as though every inch carried the weight of a lifetime.
When he reached Dmitry, he bowed—not from obligation, but because he couldn’t stand tall before him, not yet. “Gospodin.” Sir.
“You share the Black Knight title, I hear.” Dmitry folded his hands before him.
So he knew, and with his mind, he’d put the pieces together. There was nowhere for Victor to hide and nothing to hold back anymore.
Victor drew a breath. His voice, when it came, was rough. “There’s something I have to say. Not just as your student. As the man who’s loved her… longer than he should have.” He lifted his shining eyes. “I didn’t know her name at first. Only that she sat on the other side of a wall and played like fire and thunder and grace. At seventeen, I listened to the way she moved the pieces, and I fell in love with her mind before I met her.”
His voice broke.
Dmitry didn’t look away.
“I’ve loved her through walls and tournaments, through countries and silences. I never dared ask for her hand because I thought I had to win first. That I had to prove something, but she’s the one who wins, always. She plays not for glory—but for those she loves.”
Victor’s hands fisted at his sides. “I would give her everything. All I am. Not because she needs it—but because I do.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Dmitry’s eyes softened. “Victor and Victoria, the winners. Did you know that’s what the name meant in Latin?”
Victor nodded.
“Why do you think I kept you apart?” Dmitry asked.
Victor blinked.
“I knew,” Dmitry said quietly. “Not at first, but as you grew. As she did. I saw how your minds moved. I needed you both to become who you were meant to be separately. I feared that if I let you reach for each other too soon, you’d mirror each other instead of sharpening one another. Competition too early dulls the mind.”
Victor couldn’t speak.
“But she was always going to find you,” Dmitry added. “She was always the better strategist. And I made sure you both read theChessman’s Chronicles.”
