Page 21 of Crown of Steel

And still, I—I couldn’t look away. Though I wanted to. I wanted to tell them all to fuck off and run away, back to the past, back to safety of the known. I had wanted to scoop up all the shattered pieces of my memories in my trembling hands and keep it there, keep it with me, and cherish them.

And then there was the wedding. Heat floods my cheeks, despite being on my own in a dimming forest. The memory of Arthur and his hand, down my boxers, and me being so hard for him…I’d never felt so hot for anyone. The way he consumed me with his brooding stare, the way he defiled me with his wolfish grin.

The way he humiliated me with his imperious actions.

My mother cried that night during the party. “Tears of happiness,” she called them. That finally, after so many years of doubt, of trying, of not wanting to barge into my life, we were finally one, big family. The dream she’d always had.

They gave me my own room in their mansion. My own bathroom. A lock that I used despite my mother’s wish to keep the door open. I couldn’t explain to her that I wouldn’t use the bed to sleep in.

They brought me to therapy, but I had nothing to say. They brought my mother to therapy, but they told her to give me space. She did. And I took that space. Used it to drive around with Amadou, avoiding everyone in that mansion.

I let out a long and heavy sigh as I finish my coffee. It’s starting to get cool out here, the sun now fully set, leaving nothing but darkness in its retreat.

I check my phone, it’s a little past nine in the evening. I can’t believe I’ve been sitting here, on this spot, for over an hour. And still, I’m not ready to leave, the peaceful trees blanketing my whirling thoughts. One episode ofDarkon Netflix turns into another, and just to stay on the safe side, I watch another one. It’s no hardship. How soon is soon?

Finally, I stretch out my arms above my head on a long yawn. It’s a little before midnight now, and I’m not used to going to bed late. I’m sleepy. And a little scared.

“He’s just scaring you with empty threats,” I tell myself, but the truth is, with Arthur you never know.

Tomorrow I’ll tell him that he can chaperone me from a distance, end of story. He doesn’t need to be in my room for that, even Jean-Luc will agree.

“But I’ll still beat you,” I decide.

By the time I leave the gravel path and the grand reception comes into view, the door is being swung open from the inside, revealing the porter, Claude.

“Mister Deveraux.” He dips his head, and waits for my shivering self to make it inside, before he closes the door behindhim. Everything changes on a whim. I’m no longer on neutral territory, surrounded by silence and flora, but I’m back in the maze that’s filled with menace, and I can already feel it creeping under my skin. I wonder how he knows my name but I don’t ask, unsure if I’m ready to hear his answer.

“Good evening sir,” I give the porter a clipped nod. “Apologies for staying out so late.”

“Not a problem, Mister Deveraux. Good night.”

I mumble a reply, then scoot upstairs to our dorm. In the deserted corridor, I linger, not wanting to head in. I should really get some sleep, with classes starting tomorrow. But instead, I stare at the framed images that decorate the walls. Some of them are old, with young men standing in a formal line, all dressed in the same school uniform.

The years go up all the way to last year, and I find myself searching for one particular raven-haired guy with onyx eyes. The moment I realize what I’m doing, I send the wall a scowl, take a deep breath and unlock the door. It opens with a slight creak and I flinch, body turning rigid with anticipation. I hope I didn’t wake up anyone. With a few solid strides I make it to my own bedroom, opening and locking the door behind me. Once I’m alone, I practically melt against the cool wood.

“You’re alright,” I whisper through the darkness. “You can do this.” I will start this college and graduate in four years time, and I will do it by keeping my head down. I will keep my headdownby doing what I do best—by studying. By honest, old-fashioned studying. By keeping my dad in check. Wiping the sneaky tears from my cheek, I decide that I should really follow up on that lawyer. I owe it to Dad. No matter what my mother said. No matter what those police officers said, or those psychologists. Tomorrow. After school.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump in surprise. It’s too late for Dad to contact me, him being the only one to ever call me. I blindly reach for the closest side lamp thatbathes the bedroom in a faint light while I check my phone. The message is from an unknown number.

Anonymous: “Game’s on. What’s your next move?”

Something flashes in my chest before it tightens in bewilderment.

“What—” I look up and scan the room. Everything looks the same. The desk by the window on which I left my computer bag. The door to my closet stands ajar, which is how I left it right before taking off earlier. And my bed…my heart ruffles fast in my ribcage. On my bed is a chess game laid out.Mychess game, the portable one I always carry with me. Two armies, one black, the other one white. A black pawn has been moved forward, opening the game for the queen and the king bishop. It’s the most aggressive opening in chess.

The King's Pawn Opening.

If that doesn’t show Arthur’s true colors, then I don’t know what does.

6

RÉGIS

Iend up staring at the chessboard half the night, tossing and sweating in my new bed. It’s too big, the challenge somehow too real, and mixed with my unwanted attraction toward my stepbrother, it creates a toxic vibe.

At some stage I must have fallen asleep, because when I wake up the next morning, my groggy state and tired eyes need a moment to adjust to reality. I am still lying in bed, somehow managing to stay there, in my new,shareddorm, the chess board staring right back at me.

“Fuck you,” I grate raspily, my voice still tired. Still my hand grabs the pawn right in front of the bishop and puts it two places ahead. He wants to play? There.

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