Niklos walked into the receiving chamber at Dahlia, uncertain as to how today would play out. He thought he’d faced most every adept in Dahlia who played chess. And some of them had been challenges. His father was good, but there were some adepts who used strategies that Niklos had never seen before, and his father had been good at making certain that Niklos’s playing stayed nimble. He settled into a chair to wait, smiling at the young novice who brought him a small tray of snacks and a cup of tea. He had learned early on not to ask who his next tutor would be—often the novice either didn’t know or had been instructed not to say. The one time he had pressed the issue he found himself without an opponent for a fortnight and was only welcomed back when the Dowayne herself had written and instructed that he could return. He would not seek to press that specific issue with Dahlia House ever again.
Finally, an adept entered the waiting hall. Lithe and sleek, with silver-blond hair that might have been a better fit for the canon of Cereus House had it not been for the haughty cast of his face, the adept glanced across the small salon before settling on the Shahrizai Count.
“Lord Niklos?” That was all the respect to his title Silvère would give. Oh, he knew the status of the Count of Angers, that was quite certainly the business of Dahlia House, but it was also quite certainly theirs to enjoy a challenge. “She is ready for you.”
Niklos set his teacup down on one of the small tables. He’d visited often enough to know that it would be taken care of without his attention. He languidly rose to his feet, his eyes quickly examining and dismissing the adept who had been sent to direct him. He nodded and gestured. “Please, lead on. I’m looking forward to meeting the next person I get to square off against.”
Silvère guided him up a flight of grand stairs, away from the public eye of the grand Dahlia salon with its famed life-sized chess board—Niklos was a little disappointed, game after game he had played here against the adepts and still he had yet to see the grand board in action or play on it himself—and up to the back of the mansion, stepping out onto the second-floor terrace that overlooked the gardens. Silvère paused there and gestured the Count forward. “Onward. She waits at the north corner.”
The gallery spanned the back of the mansion, tracing the silhouette of the grand house and curling around to the corner before it stopped at the corner turret. There, tucked into the privacy of the semi-hidden corner, was a table set with a chessboard with pieces of green marble and carved ivory. A decanter of wine sat breathing between two Serenissiman blown-glass goblets and a small dish of ripe blackberries.
He was surprised when the adept stopped at the top of the stairs, gesturing him along the gallery. Previously, he had been escorted all the way to whomever was waiting for him. Either he had regained the trust of the house, his opponent wished for their interaction to remain unobserved, or he was going to be unceremoniously escorted from the House. Whatever the reasoning, he quirked a small smile and continued down the gallery, noticing the adept waiting for him by one of the corners. As he got closer, he realized he wasn’t certain who was waiting for him. He squared his shoulders, glancing around to see that they would, in fact, be alone.
The figure at the railing turned, her dark eyes studying his face for a moment before she spoke. “Good evening, Lord Niklos.”
She stepped into the light cast by the lantern, dark hair caught up in a jewelled net away from the completed marque that graced her back. Her hand gestured to the chair set at his side of the table. “Please, sit. Be comfortable.”
She poured the wine with her own hands. “I have heard the gossip among the adepts about your chess games. They really have enjoyed the challenge, though we are running out of adepts to present you with a new face with each of your visits.”
He nodded as he neared her, not surprised that he would have reached the Second eventually. “Well met, Second Odilia. I’ve heard some interesting rumors about you. It warms my heart to hear that your adepts are gossiping about me as well.” He took one of the seats, relaxing into it as he observed the board. “This is quite a lovely set, is it a treasure of the house?” His eyes flickered to the decanter of wine as she poured. “It has been quite a challenge, playing through your adepts. You have some very skilled members of your House. It has been quite enjoyable. Though I could always play some of your adepts again, if their pride wasn’t too bruised from losing to a simple Count.”
Her smile flickered across her face as quick as a lightning flash, there and gone in a breath as she settled herself into her own seat. “Ah, perhaps. Dahlia does not wager on games the way Bryony does but we have our own strategies. Perhaps one or two of them did not play as hard as they could have? A hard-won win might be enough to whet the appetite to have a patron return again.”
Her fingers gently caressed the edge of the chess board. “As for the set, it is mine. A gift from the Dowayne when she named me her Second. It is quite a treasure, isn’t it? You named it rightly when you called it so.”
“Well, I would hope that none of your adepts would take it easy on me for any reason, so hopefully, they will still be interested if I were to offer them a challenge again. And it is a lovely set, certainly a treasure.” He reached out for one of the glasses of wine, taking it and smelling it, his eyes crinkling with pleasure. “This smells Aragonian. Is it?”
“Yes,” she said, leaning back in her seat, comfortable in her power here in her own House. “I keep a small selection for myself from the House collection, and I have always favored the Aragonian spices. Does it meet your standards?”
“I am certain it is fantastic. I have faith that your House has impeccable cellars, and that your tastes will align well with my own.” He took a small sip, tasting the wine as he looked over the board, and then examined her as he swallowed. “It is exquisite, as I am certain you knew. I have a feeling that our interactions here will prove most enlightening for both of us.” He leaned back into the chair, comfortable. He did so enjoy sitting across the table from a Dahlia. They had some of the same instincts that his cousins did, and it kept him on his toes.
“Then shall we begin?” She gestured to the board between them. “The guest has the first move.”
He smiled and nodded, focusing his attention on the board and briefly considering before opening the game by moving one of his knights. If the Second had been briefed on his play style from any of the adepts he had faced off against, he wanted to throw something new at her. His father had always warned him about a knight opening, saying it was an aggressive move, and it was a gamble if you didn’t know your opponent; but Niklos felt in a gambling mood this evening, and there was a need for a certain amount of aggression as well. It felt like the calendar was speeding up, and things were moving quickly enough that he was barely keeping ahead of it all. He took a slow sip of wine and waited patiently for Odilia’s move. The dance had begun.
They played in comfortable silence for the first set of moves. His aggressive opening was countered by her patient, almost teasing strategy as she left pieces undefended, baiting him to chase them across the board.
“What brought you to Dahlia for this series of games, Lord Shahrizai?” She asked it after he had captured one of her pawns, showing absolutely nothing on her face about the loss of the piece. “Many patrons who enjoy gaming go to Bryony or Orchis for their amusements. How did Dahlia catch your interest?” Well did she know that after the events of the Autumn Revelry, more and more eyes were turning to her House and to her in particular. Was he one of them that looked to influence the Dauphin by courting her attentions?
He leaned back in his chair, assessing the board as pieces were picked off. He’d spread his troops out. Perhaps too much. He could recover, but it would take adjusting his strategy. And then there was her queen. Almost overprotected in its position. His father had played like this for a time, it was usually a trap, and he couldn’t fall for it. “What brought me to Dahlia? The rumors in the city are that Dahlia raises the best chess players to be found. Sure, I could have gone to Bryony and frittered away my inheritance. I’ve joined Orchis for one of their open showings, and they were quite amusing. But, if I wanted a challenge, I needed to come to Dahlia. And, thank Elua, the rumors have proved true. Dahlia… Dahlia is a House I can learn things in. And I do so enjoy learning many things.” He grinned, almost irreverently, and took another sip of his wine, wincing as she captured another pawn. Well, that one was going to be a sacrifice anyway, he’d just hoped to get a few more turns with it on the board. He was developing his own approach.
“I do regret,” he continued conversationally, “that I was not well enough known to your House to have been invited to the Autumn festivities you held. Rumor has that it was quite the spectacle. But I can’t seem to get a straight story from anyone. You must know how rumors are. Would you be willing to share with me some of the highlights that you remember of the evening? I am curious what has the city all aflutter with gossip.”
She smiled and there was something flinty underneath the smooth satin of her face. She threatened his rook with one of her knights and said, “I am sure there are plenty of whispers. What I remember most about the evening was the delicious tartness of the pomegranate I ate. They are my favorite fruits. I quite enjoy the challenge of them that makes the taste all the sweeter.”
Odilia sat forward slightly, choosing a blackberry from the dish and asking courteously, “How did you welcome the start of the season, my lord? Here in the city or at your new estate?”
He smiled, catching the faint hardening of her face as she made her next move. Something he’d said had hit the mark. Or hit a mark at least. Perhaps it was the question about the festivities…or the comment about gossip. Nothing to press on, but definitely something to keep tucked in the back of his mind. He reached for the bowl of nuts and plucked some shelled walnuts, popping them in his mouth slowly, one at a time. He saw the threat to his rook and shifted one of his own knights for defense, backing off from the aggressive opening he had presented.
“I’ve been in the city since before news of my inheritance came. Before everything happened, the elder members of the family had decided I needed to spend some time here once again, and since I had been shut up on my parents’ lands since the first whisper of the plague, I did not debate any of the ideas. When the inheritance was announced, it was decided I would be the ranking member of the family in The City…at least until the season turned. So now I am awaiting the arrival of other family members, when I will be relegated to the second rank for now.” He relaxed, surprised at how little that disturbed him. Still, if he was to be of any use to the Palace, he would have to be present but unobtrusive enough to hear things without people truly paying attention to him. “At least it was a pleasant summer. When I was here some years ago it was truly unbearable. But then, my parents’ estate is near to Morhban lands, and so near to the ocean, and it always seems cooler there. How did you find the summer?” He blithely looked at the board, seeing at least three traps waiting, and finished the last walnut of the handful he had taken.
She danced one of her remaining pawns closer to his knight, saying, “Summer has never been my favored season. I much prefer the cooling mists of autumn. But for everything there is a time, and this summer, being the first since the plague struck, carried with it its own celebrations of survival. Not everyone survived, of course, and I hope that they find their peace in the True Terre d’Ange that Lies Beyond, but for those of us who have survived, summer was a time to celebrate what we have.”
Her brows lifted ever so slightly as she said, “Which means congratulations are in order. I have heard of your new title, Count of Angers. I never met your predecessor, but I understand that you have large shoes to fill. Of course, any member of your family is almost expected to do great things, I would assume, considering the history of your House. I do wish you luck.”
She advanced one of her own bishops, directly threatening his king.
He nodded slowly, considering the bishop as she spoke. He would have to deal with that first. It seemed a hasty move on her part, but perhaps they were trading playing styles now with her being more aggressive and him playing the more reserved style. Still, he had hoped that she would have shown more promise, considering that she was considered one of the better players in the House. He shrugged, almost to himself, and captured the bishop with his queen, smiling at her in response and saying, “Dimitrios was a gentle hand on his lands and was one of the most respected members of the family. If I can be half the Count he was, I will consider it an accomplishment. He grew up almost directly in the shadow of Melisande’s treason, and he knew how important it was and would be for connections to be created and maintained…”
He trailed off as he poured himself some more wine and took a slow sip. “I think we’re alike in that way. Friendships are valuable, and if they support what one desires, then so much the better.” He rested his fingers idly on the stem of the wine glass, waiting for her response. “What are your thoughts on patrons, especially reliable ones?”
“My Dowayne made waves when she rose to her place,” she said lightly. “She established a new rule within the House that assignations are not chosen at her desk but by the adepts themselves. No courtesan of the Night Court goes to a bedchamber against their will, but especially in Dahlia do we enjoy our own choice in who we take to bed. Patrons come to the salon here as though offering tribute to a throne and hoping to be selected for a night. Some of my fellow adepts revel in that power and chose as many as amuses. Some of us are more reserved and meticulous in who we select of those that catch our eyes. It is a unique freedom, one that we quite enjoy, each of us on our own terms.”
She retreated one of her knights to make a deliberate trap, testing to see if he would press a perceived advantage. A lock of her dark hair fell from her pins to brush the curve of her cheek and she said, “If, Lord Shahrizai, you are asking if you could become one of my reliable patrons, then I must disappoint you. At the moment, my desk is full of papers and plans for the Longest Night that is coming. I have little time to myself to consider new patrons in my bed.”
She did not necessarily think that was what he was asking, but she was ever cautious as she had seen more and more hungry nobles coming to Dahlia once the word had spread about the autumn party. The eyes watched her; jealous, scornful, hungry, ambitious, lustful, she could feel them all looking at her and looking to pass judgement against her. The nobility circled, looking for weakness, looking for advantages to take, looking for openings to test. She had to keep to her composure, remain reserved and armoured so that they would not find her wanting. Nor use her against the Dauphin.
He raised an eyebrow as she explained how patrons were currently chosen in Dahlia House. He was familiar with Jocaste nò Dahlia, but he had not been aware of how she had changed patronage in Dahlia. Still, he supposed it was similar in other Houses. Bryony adepts, he had been told, often would lay wagers with patrons in their salon. In that light, he supposed he was already a regular patron of Dahlia, as he had spent some time in private with multiple adepts. So his credit, as it were, was good.
His eyes widened slightly as he watched her withdraw her knight. As his eyes flickered across the board, he saw multiple possible sequences and decided not to pursue the piece. He had already captured one of her knights, and he could afford to allow her to keep the other. Instead, he shifted his queen, capturing another of her pawns. She was down to three, and none of them currently threatened promotion. He grinned at her polite denial, though he was intrigued as the lock of hair slipped from its pins. The look softened her slightly, the unintentional shift at odds with her words. “Sadly, no, Lady Odilia. That was not my query at all, though I do hope we will be able to continue meeting across this field of battle. You are offering quite the challenge, and I am very much enjoying myself. I am very certain an adept of your grace and knowledge has far more demands on her time than a lowly Count of the realm.” He grinned, hoping to show it for the self-deprecating joke he meant it to be. “Should I consider visiting the House in the evening, to see how my peers grovel at the dais of Dahlia?” He chuckled, taking another sip of the wine.
“No one is turned away from the salon who has not proved themselves unwelcome and unworthy of a place here vying for our attentions,” she said, taking a small sip of her wine as she studied the board and considered her options. “You have certainly proved yourself nothing of the sort, so you will be welcomed if you choose to attend. Though discretion is the paramount rule of the salon. Whatever you see, whomever you see, belongs to Dahlia and Dahlia alone. We will be quite displeased if any malicious gossip were to discredit any of our patrons or our House.”
Her brown eyes lifted to his face, something more steely under the tone as she said quietly, “And there is no need to stand on jesting ceremony, Lord Shahrizai. I am no lady. The circumstances of my birth were far more humble, which is well known. I do not need an empty, unearned courtesy.”
She knew she was common-born. Even a place like the Court of Night Blooming Flowers did not let her forget that. So, knowing well that it was a trap, she advanced her bishop to capture his queen. She knew well that it would open her to losing the match, but the night air was continuing to drop in temperature, a long game would not be pleasant for either of them if they froze.
He sighed, he was always putting his foot wrong when he spoke with people. His mother had always encouraged him to think more before he spoke, but sometimes his impulsivity got the best of him. “I would never consider spreading malicious gossip about anyone I saw in the Night Court, no matter where they were. You have my word on that fact. As for my naming you Lady, you are the Second of a House in the Night Court, which means you have far more knowledge and ability than many who claim the title by birth. So if you think you have not earned the respect of the title, I do apologize, but you are wrong…” he frowned as she captured his queen with her bishop. He had been playing recklessly with the queen but he hadn’t realized he’d left her that undefended…until he took a better look at the board. With a faint smile, he advanced his rook one rank. “I believe that is both check and mate, Odilia…”
To his surprise and confusion, she smiled, something glittering in her eyes as she said, “Then, by all means, take my king.”
He reached to take the piece, lifting it to consider the craftsmanship of the piece. It really was well made.
“You are fortunate the game ends so quickly,” she said, sitting back in her chair and taking up her goblet in one hand. “If this was a true battlefield, as this game was once played to emulate, I would have taken you with me.”
He frowned, looking at her. He had heard that she was the best player in the House, for her to seem so relaxed and cavalier was not what he had expected, until he looked down at the board again. His frown deepened, realizing his own king was in check. When he advanced his rook to check her king, he had given her the opening to lay the blade at his own king. “Well… that is an interesting result…”
Perhaps the stories of her strategic mind weren’t so embellished. However, had she learned to play so? Surely her father hadn’t taught her the way his had taught him.
He looked up at her again and she smiled, “I believe that is our time, Lord Shahrizai. Do you know your way out? Or shall I call a novice to guide you?”
He shook his head minutely, bemused at the result of the contest. “I believe, Lady Odilia,”—and he would continue addressing her as such, she had earned all of his respect—“that I can find my way at least as far as the reception chambers from here. From there, I suspect a servant will suffice to direct me to the doors.” He smiled as he rose, bowing to her. “A most skillful battle. I hope we can meet over the field again in the future.”
As he stepped out of the nook they were in and towards the stairs, he looked back at the board again. Odilia was definitely someone he should play against more frequently. He had a feeling she would give his father a solid game as well. He hoped that her ability in the game would translate and make her a fantastic ally in his own ambitions going forward.
He nodded politely to adepts and novices as he passed on the way through the house, not completely lost in the possibilities in his own mind. He reviewed their conversation and the game, and he was distracted enough that he brushed into another guest on his way to the door. The man turned to comment, his face angry, but he blanched when he saw Niklos’s black and gold clothes and thought better of it, murmuring to his friends as he watched Niklos walk through the door.
There was so much still left to do before the Longest Night. Niklos would need to consider his strategy well as he prepared to prove himself to the Queen.