The Last Queen Book Four Page 4

  With that, he finally tries to reach for me.

  I have to think blindingly quickly. A part of me wants to let him touch my arm, wrap his fingers around it.

  But the rest of me?

  The rest of me wins out.

  No more words. No more waiting.

  I run away.

  And Spencer doesn’t follow.

  Chapter 3

  I’M BACK AT JOHN’S in my old room. Of course he offered me something fancier, but of course I declined. I have a strong association with this room. I don’t care that it’s full of junk and it has no windows. As soon as I walk in, I feel an unparalleled sense of calm. This room saw me through some of my hardest times. Or hey, maybe that’s an overstatement. Because maybe my hardest times are yet to come.

  I hear John on his phone. He’s in the corridor outside of the room, and the door is open a crack so I can pick up most of his conversation, even though he’s speaking in muffled tones.

  He’s talking to Antonio and a few of his other top-level pieces.

  They’re trying to figure out exactly what Spencer was up to.

  I told John everything about the fight, from the walls to the creature, and as soon as I described it, all of the blood drained from John’s cheeks.

  There were a few details I left out, though, and I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what they were. The entire altercation with Spencer. I can’t tell John, because I can’t even begin to put into words what the hell just happened.

  I keep looking at my hands, and, more than anything, ticking my gaze up until I stare at my left shoulder.

  I want to touch it. Trail my fingers over it, see if I can... feel what Spencer was talking about. The sane part of my mind wants to tell me it was just a ploy. Yeah, our kiss was intense, and yeah, I absolutely felt power, but none of that distracts from the fact that Spencer wants to weaken me so he can capture me.

  That shit about us being meant for each other and about me being able to access more power if I’m with him is nothing more than a lie... right? He just wants to make me compliant.

  Though I’ve been steadfastly not clutching my shoulder, now I can’t help it as a pulse of uncertainty slams into me. I dig my fingers into the point where Spencer cast his tracking symbol.

  Abruptly, John ends his conversation and walks in through the open door.

  I can’t drop my hand quickly enough, and instantly he stares at it.

  He has a controlled expression as he opens his lips. “Is it bothering you?”

  He doesn’t question if it’s an old injury. He knows what it is.

  Though I should probably hide the full extent of my emotion, that becomes pretty hard as I turn my head away.

  John quietly walks up to my side and stops in front of the bed, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t loom over me. He stops a respectful half a meter away. Which is about as far away from me as he can get in this seriously cramped room. He seems to wait for me to speak first, but I don’t want to do that – I can’t. Just like a kid who can’t face an irate parent, I steadfastly don’t look at him until he takes a deep sigh.

  “It’s natural to be confused. I don’t know how much you know about the... imprinting process, but it’s hard to know what your mind wants once it’s happened,” he explains softly and carefully. It’s that kind of careful tone, to be exact, that you use on someone you suspect is about to crack.

  Instantly my jaw clenches. Really tightly. Tighter than I want it to. My body seems to take over as a blast of anger sails through me. I jerk my head even further away, pretty much turning it all the way around in my effort to ignore him. “Yeah, I don’t know much about the imprinting process, other than the fact I hate it. It’s not fair,” I growl.

  John doesn’t jump back at my anger, and he doesn’t try to explain to me that the imprinting process is justified.

  “Unfortunately, it is what it is. I’m not going to stand here and tell you to accept it. I understand it’s hard,” he explains. “But your time for ignorance is over. If you want to navigate this world, then you’re going to have to know the unique problems you alone will face.”

  Out of all the things he could have said, it’s that that really gets my attention. It finally forces me to jerk my head up and actually look at him.

  His expression is easy. But it’s not casual. Just genuine. The kind of open way people are when they’re ready to tell you whatever you need to know, no matter how private.

  It pushes away the last of my anger, and I finally let my shoulder go.

  I look at him directly as I blink and breathe. “What do you mean? What problems?

  It’s a pretty idiotic thing to ask. I shouldn’t need John to list my problems; there as long as my arm.

  They’ve been taking up my attention for the last several months.

  But I know he has more information. I need that information. So I ask, and I wait.

  “Kings are in a unique position. Though it appears powerful from the outside, it’s technically one of the weakest positions in the game. We are just above a pawn, really,” he says through clenched teeth. “Though it seems from the outside that we have all the power, that power must be measured by responsibility. A king must keep his pieces alive. For if he loses too many, he will be taken himself and turned.”

  My brow jerks down at that. “Hold on. What do you mean? Kings can be taken and turned? I thought... I don’t know, that kings died, kind of like Rogers did when we defeated him.”

  “They can die. However, sometimes it is more fortuitous to acquire than kill. So the king is taken and turned.”

  My stomach flips. It takes me a while to gather the breath to ask, “Into what?”

  I watch John’s tongue dart around his mouth as if he is battling a suddenly dry throat. “Eaters,” he explains.

  It’s like a bombshell.

  Excuse me if eaters are currently on my mind. Excuse me if eaters will probably fill my dreams for the foreseeable future. That thing was goddamn hideous and scary.

  My mouth drops open for a few seconds until I manage to ask, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before? Eaters are just captured kings?”

  “The reason I didn’t tell you before is twofold. One, it wouldn’t have altered the way you fought that thing. Another....” He presses his lips together. In a blast, I realize what he wants to say.

  I arch an eyebrow. “You wanted to see if I would come back, ha?”

  I’ve been kind of stupid and naïve in thinking John completely trusts me. I’ve been more concerned about whether I should trust him. But he’s in the same boat, isn’t he? He’s offered me a lot of lifelines before, and I’ve mostly refused them.

  So now he doesn’t make any particular effort to deny my observation.

  He takes a hard breath that pushes his strong shoulders out and frames them in his shirt. “Indeed. I didn’t know if you would return. And there are some secrets I can’t afford to share with you if you do not offer me... a kind of loyalty.” He picks over his words so carefully. And on the words kind of loyalty, his voice becomes shaky like a flag in a hurricane.

  It gets my attention, and I really let my eyebrows drop now.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “As I said before, it’s beneficial to turn certain kings with certain... knowledge. The reality of what an eater is and how to create one is a secret, even amongst some of the most powerful kings.”

  I blink hard.

  “If you were to be acquired or you were to give yourself to another,” he says super carefully, “or, indeed, you were to freely tell another....”

  “The other kings might find out that you’ve got forbidden knowledge, ha?”

  He concedes my point with a tight shrug, his shoulders shifting high and hard toward his ears. “Indeed.”

  “This...” I take a breath as I try to figure out how to deal with the situation. Technically, John withheld some critical information from me, and I would be within my rights to get pissed off
at him. But at the same time, I just don’t have the energy.

  So I shrug. I stare at my hands for a few seconds, and I dart my gaze up. “So did I pass? I came back, after all.” I won’t describe to you what my voice is doing. I don’t really know. I can’t keep track of my emotions. They’re fluctuating like a seismograph during an earthquake.

  John looks at me for several seconds before he lets a broad smile spread over his lips. He nods. Though his shoulders were all stiff around his ears before, this move is free of tension. Not free of attention, though. I can tell he’s mindfully making every movement until he glances up and locks his eyes on me once more.

  “You passed. So I told you.”

  “Okay, so we’ve established you can kind of trust me. How exactly did Spencer acquire a king? And does that mean he has this forbidden knowledge, too?”

  John looks thoughtful.

  “He shakes his head. I think it’s much more likely that Spencer acquired the king and that he did not create one.”

  I nod. My eyebrows jerk low over my eyes. “If this is the case, and you can... learn to control the secret knowledge of a piece if you can only acquire them, then... why didn’t you—”

  “Why didn’t I acquire Rogers?” he cuts straight to the chase.

  “Yeah, why didn’t you acquire Rogers?”

  “Because there are lows to which I will not descend,” he says, and he speaks forcefully. His lips move hard around the move, jerking like cracking whips.

  I’m kind of surprised by his sudden vehemence, but as the surprise settles, I appreciate that it’s a fervor that’s always been there.

  He brings up a hand and locks it on his brow, obviously attempting to massage out some stress. He lets his hand drop, and he looks at me again. “You probably want to rest. And yet, I’m keen to... open your eyes about the true nature of this world. Because... there is... much I would like your help with.”

  Every word is measured. Every word is soft, too. And yet, at the same time, every word has a certain hard power that instantly lets you know that John is a man willing to go to any lengths. But unlike Spencer, those lengths are to protect, not to acquire.

  It takes a moment to realize what he’s just said. I shake my head and immediately nod it. “I’m tired, sure. But now the fight’s over, I’m getting better. You can... you can stay,” I say, lingering too long on that thought until I realize it sounds wrong. I clear my throat. “And explain everything to me,” I add a little hurriedly.

  He nods.

  Is there... God, I don’t know, a look of longing in his eyes?

  The gaze of somebody who wants to find out if they can forge a connection with someone else?

  Just as my heart skips a beat and flutters like a butterfly on the wing, instantly I’m reminded of Spencer’s words. That he felt the power between us. And he’s the only one for me.

  Just as my mouth becomes dry as I wonder what John’s about to do, he clears his throat. “I’ve already explained to you the general nature of how the game began. And though there are more secrets of its origin, they can wait. But what you need to know now is what you can do. And what you can’t do,” he adds. Though I’ve already warned you of this, while the Queen is technically in a superior, powerful position, you have many weaknesses. You will also have many enemies,” he couches quickly, his words gentle but firm.

  I nod hard in that way someone does when they’re letting someone else know that they’re ready for any news, no matter how devastating. “I get that. Believe me, I get that,” I chuckle, even though this is no laughing matter. “I... I know that. I obviously know that. But I....”

  “Want to be taught,” he jumps in.

  They’re not exactly the words I was going to use, but they’re close enough. I need power. I need knowledge. I need to understand the full extent of my abilities. John’s right. More than anything, I need to know what I can’t do. I’m in a uniquely powerful and yet vulnerable position. It’s continually finding a path between those two that’s going to make the difference between me winning and losing.

  So I tip my head up and face him.

  “Let it begin tomorrow,” he says without any introduction.

  For some reason the way he says it really turns my tummy, makes it flip and spin.

  I take a quick breath and drive the nerves away. “Sorry, let’s begin what?”

  “Your training,” he explains simply. “I have no intention of wasting your skills, nor wasting your time,” he cuts straight to the chase. “As you have already pointed out we are... partners,” his voice is oh-so-careful. “And I intend to give you the information and resources you require.”

  I find myself nodding. It’s halfway between a certain move and a completely uncertain one. Which means it’s confusing as all hell. But it doesn’t make me scared. Just the opposite. Because the look in John’s eyes is as steady as ever.

  So I smile.

  Training tomorrow, ha?

  Okay. I guess we have to begin somewhere.

  Chapter 4

  AM I NERVOUS? Yes, I’m nervous.

  It’s not just that John has given me precious little information about what he expects me to do during this so-called training session. It’s that every time I look at him, I can’t control my expression. There’s a tight knot of nerves forming in my stomach, and as they chase their way through my gut, it feels like I’ve swallowed a bird.

  John is standing several meters away, breathing slowly as he watches me. He’s in a loosefitting pair of black pants and a gray T-shirt.

  I’m in some exercise gear.

  Though I’m used to looking frumpy, this is the first time I’ve seen John in anything other than an immaculate, perfect fitting suit.

  Does he look any less attractive?

  Hell no. In fact, though the T-shirt isn’t that tight, the way it hugs his large, defined muscles is unmistakable, and I have to keep distracting myself by tucking my fringe behind my ears so I don’t get lost in the view.

  It’s better than getting lost in the darting, excruciating tingles zipping up and down my back and sinking into my stomach. I’ve told you this so many times before, but being close to a king... always does something to me. And though now I understand that has something to do with the imprinting process, that doesn’t make this any easier.

  I may no longer want to run away from John to protect myself, but I sure as hell want to get closer. Which is precisely what he does as he takes a breath that pushes his chest against his T-shirt and takes a step toward me. I’m drawn in by the sound of his feet softly padding on the mat.

  We’re in some kind of training room. The more I learn about this tower, the more I realize that it’s cram packed full of not just offices, but every room a magical king would need.

  He has armories, training rooms, gyms, you name it.

  Currently we’re in a massive space that looks about as large as the underground car park. It’s covered in big blue mats. But while the mats are blue, the walls, true to John’s heritage, are painted black and white, resembling chessboards.

  Every time I dart my gaze toward them, it reminds me that this is real.

  No more games. John has brought me here to teach me the rules, as he’s put it.

  He takes another step toward me, then shifts his back foot to the side until he takes up a defensive position. “The most important thing a queen can learn is to follow the commands of her king,” he says. Though his voice starts off as authoritative and calm, on the term her king, it shakes a little.

  My lips don’t immediately curl into a frown, even though that’s what the old me would have done.

  I’ll give him the benefit of doubt for now.

  “I don’t... this is just the terminology that is usually used,” John stutters, his calm completely breaking, and his stance withering a little too as his shoulders sink down and his balance becomes a touch unsteady.

  I arch an eyebrow. “Yeah, I get it. You don’t own me,” my voice drops down l
ow in warning, but my lips then curl into a soft smile, “but we’ve established that a thousand times, haven’t we? So what exactly do you want me to learn?”

  John looks as if he is almost proud of me, but then he immediately wipes that expression from his face. He concentrates on his stance once more, sucks in a breath, then attacks.

  Just not with any visible magic. He doesn’t suddenly produce a sword from nowhere and try to hack my head off. Nor does magic cascade down his arms, flicker across his fingers, and ignite his nails into flame.

  But I’m still attacked.

  The mat undulates underneath me, and I’m not expecting it. I don’t have the time to shore up my balance, and I’m thrown backward. I strike the floor with a hard thump. Rather than lie there out of breath and surprised, I immediately kick my legs over my head, roll, pounce to my feet, and launch at him.

  It’s instinct. The same instinct that kept me alive all these months.

  And it’s instinct that pays off, because as John takes a steady step to the side and slams his foot down hard into the mat, the floor bucks again.

  This time, I go with the move; I don’t fight it. I lurch forward, tuck my arms in, roll, and skid toward him.

  He’s only a meter away now, but here’s the thing – I have no idea what I’ll do when I reach him. Flatten him with a punch? Spin behind him, kick him in the back of the knees, and knock him onto his face?

  Or maybe I should just pin him to the ground and jump on his chest?

  All of them are distracting thoughts, and that’s a bad thing, because apparently right now is a pretty bad time to be distracted.

  With a creak that sounds like a copse of trees being felled in a wind, the blue mats yanked themselves off the floor and wrap around me.

  They squeeze me from all angles, pushing the breath from my chest as they creak down and hold me against the floor. It’s like being rugby tackled by the goddamn ground.

  I struggle for half a second, then the mats simply fall off me, slide back to the floor, and allow me to leap to my feet.