The Last Queen Book Five Page 8

  It takes me a moment.

  Then it floods me. His presence. This gentle, kind, yet determined sense. The sense that reminds me of a firm, guiding hand on my shoulder. The sense that reminds me of a man who’s always been behind me, ready to protect, willing to wait.

  John.

  I try to control the smile spreading my lips, but I can’t.

  Spencer doesn’t see. Michael?

  Does.

  “Another king,” Matrexia growls. “He is coming,” she adds, pointing toward the wall beside us.

  Andrew is standing in front of it, and he doesn’t have the time to buck back.

  As a massive section of concrete comes hurtling out, it plows into his back, pushing him forward. I don’t instantly hear the crack of bone and see the splatter of blood – but he is dragged across the room as he’s forced to charge with magic to stop himself from being squashed.

  Spencer lets out a roar. It blasts out through the tunnels, and it echoes in the strangest way imaginable as it seems to not just punch out through the compressed version of the tunnels, but at the same time, echoes through the real tunnels, too.

  It’s enough to give me a splitting headache, but it’s one I can’t afford. John does not come alone. Antonio’s at his side and some of his other high-level pieces. I can also see pawns behind him, too, all lined up in the tunnel he’s created.

  “Dammit,” Spencer spits. “You bastard. Why couldn’t you just wait like you always do?”

  John doesn’t answer. He doesn’t appear to be capable of answering. He’s pushing all of his attention and mental energy into one task. Staring right at me.

  Though it’s already happened to me once today, it happens to me again. Time stretches, slowing down as if someone has hit the pause button on a recording.

  This time I don’t have to act to save someone’s life like I did with Antonio this morning. This time?

  I have to put up with the look of betrayal in John’s gaze.

  Though I’ve done that once before, when I abandoned him and joined Spencer, this time it’s different. There are more fire and passion behind it, more rage. And that, there, is an emotion I would’ve thought John Rowley would never feel.

  Anger, yes. I’ve seen him show it on multiple occasions as he’s lost players or been forced to take another hit. But rage? Rage is a far more uncontrolled emotion. It’s something Senator Rogers would have felt his whole life and something Spencer experiences when he’s not convincing himself he’s the ruler of the universe.

  I don’t know how long time pauses and stands still to let the full import of John’s rage draw out, but it finally speeds back up again.

  He doesn’t give his pieces any commands. They know exactly what to do.

  They punch forward, and though most of them concentrate on Spencer and the board in his hands, John is left for me.

  Spencer starts spitting commands at Michael and Andrew. He does not, however, order Matrexia to protect him. He twists around as he dodges a blow from Antonio and looks right at me. “Matrexia, get her out of here and take her back to headquarters. Now. Warp space,” he adds.

  Back when I came down into this tunnel, I swore I felt the remnants of some kind of control spell. Right now, I feel it again as something starts to pick up in my knuckles.

  It’s the same hand Matrexia used to grab the board in the first place.

  Though technically the spell is over, and I could feel no lingering effects a few seconds ago, in a blast, it returns.

  Spikes of the strangest sensation imaginable blast down into my tendons and slam into my wrist, making it shake. “What the hell?” I have time to spit.

  Matrexia pushes her hand forward and curls her knuckles in, and as she does, mine do the same.

  All the while, she stares right at John.

  I can see her anger now. And this time, you would have to be a fool not to appreciate that it’s real emotion.

  It’s the pure hatred of somebody who will do anything for revenge.

  And you shouldn’t have to ask why she’s seeking revenge. John was the man who killed Senator Rogers.

  If it’s up to Matrexia, she’s not going to leave this fight until John’s dead.

  And if it’s up to me, I won’t let that happen.

  But horrifyingly, it isn’t up to me. I have no control whatsoever over my hand as it continues to curl into a fist. I can feel it once again, I can see it too, even though my eyes are still open.

  That path of light leading me forward.

  It seems inevitable, and it promises me there’s nothing I can do to fight against it.

  Hell, I can practically hear it in my ear begging me to give up.

  Somehow, John is managing to pay attention to me while at the same time never letting his guard down around Matrexia.

  She has a hand spread toward him, the one she’s not using to control me, and her fingers are charged with magic.

  “Defend,” John spits.

  I’ve seen him fight on multiple occasions, and he’s powerful, but he’s no castle or horse. And God knows he’s no queen.

  But he doesn’t hold back as a sword appears in his hand and he swipes it at the queen.

  She doesn’t even need to double back. She simply brings up her arm, electrifies it, and uses it to meet his blow.

  Though I can see his muscles practically bulging as he forces the sword against it with all his might, it doesn’t matter. It can’t cut her flesh, let alone rend her arm from her bone.

  Her expression is completely impassive; it’s almost as if she’s doing nothing more than catching a leaf on the wind.

  With a simple twitch, she throws her arm forward, and John is forced backward.

  He hits the floor with a thump, and he’s forced into a roll.

  He pushes up, and he comes at her again.

  No pause for rest. No pause to reassess this apparently impossible fight.

  He throws himself forward with no caution whatsoever. My mind tells me that’s something I thought I would never see.

  A John who has thrown all caution to the wind. A John who will fight, no matter the costs, because he no longer has the opportunity not to.

  Out of the corner of my eye as they fill with tears at this sight, I appreciate that John’s other pieces are doing a good job of keeping Spencer, Andrew, and Michael busy.

  There’s nothing they can do to intervene in my fight. Not, of course, that I’m fighting.

  That light tunnel is opening up before me once more, getting brighter with every second, almost until I can’t see the tunnel around me anymore.

  But there’s one thing I won’t let myself not see. I focus on John with all my attention, never letting it deviate as he throws himself toward Matrexia once more. Again she easily brings up her arm and blocks the blow. She barely seems to put any effort into it at all.

  The way she’s holding her arm looks as if she expects to be hit by nothing more than a pillow.

  Just at the last moment, when she pushes forward to throw him off, I see John’s attention jerk to the side as his gaze locks on me.

  We make eye contact.

  He hasn’t said a word to me. There hasn’t been the opportunity.

  Very few people can say what they mean through a look alone. The art of conveying your feelings through a simple gaze is a fine one.

  If any man can do it, it’s John. And as he looks at me, I feel it all. All his sense of betrayal. All his sense of loss.

  I made a deal with him. I promised him that I would join him and I would never, ever allow his pieces to be taken.

  Now?

  He looks at me with the gaze of a man deceived.

  It makes me cold. This deep, aching cold that spreads from my chest and seems to concentrate in my lips.

  It robs them of their warmth first, making them feel as if they’re nothing more than two shards of ice and they will never heat up again. They’ll be white and lifeless forevermore. They’ll never be able to feel the ligh
t, warm touch of a kiss, because they don’t deserve it.

  And neither do I.

  Even if I wanted to speak to John to try to explain my case, there’s no way I’d be able to control my lips.

  As Matrexia keeps her firm grip around my hand, the rest of my body is robbed of all its muscular control until the only reason I’m standing is the faint pulse of magic she’s sending through my form.

  Still, nothing – and I mean nothing – can stop me from keeping my wide-open eyes fixed on him.

  Even if the rest of me drops away, I will still stare his way.

  I know, with the sheer emotional force of his stare, there’s nothing that can tear his gaze off me, either.

  But staring at each other is one thing – getting past Matrexia, another.

  An impossible thing.

  Because as John shifts his sword up once more, lets out a grating cry, and comes at her again, Matrexia finally goes on the attack. And to do that, she tugs me with her.

  With her hand still clamped around my knuckles until they feel like they’re going to pop like popcorn, she yanks me forward.

  I’m like a doll. And instantly, it reminds me of the spell that Antonio cast on me.

  And that? It drives home another point I’ve thought of so many times. For a piece that is meant to be the most powerful in the game, why does it feel that the queen is also the weakest? Why does it feel that with power comes the constant battle to keep in control of your own body? The constant fight to keep your magic away from the parasites in this game.

  Though that thought is a stilling one, there’s nothing that can stop my body from being dragged forward as Matrexia slices toward John once more.

  Surprisingly, he manages to dodge her first blow. Maybe it’s luck, or maybe it’s the fact she’s dragging me along, but as Matrexia slices her suddenly magic-charged arm past John, it only catches the very side of his jacket. And as it does, the damn thing catches alight. It’s such a quick inferno, too. It doesn’t smolder – it goes up in smoke as if she’s just chucked a match in a bathtub full of accelerant.

  John doesn’t let the fire completely consume him, though. He presses his thumb against his forefinger and mutters something under his breath.

  It instantly extinguishes the flame until nothing more is left than a few soft wisps of smoke.

  Matrexia comes in again, and this time, she’s faster. Brutal, too. Not, of course, that Matrexia ever stops being brutal.

  I see it again, though. That look in her eyes. The one that tells me that she will not stop until John is dead at her feet. He took her king, and now she will take his life.

  Fear starts to blast through me.

  Here I am wondering what John thinks of me, but at the end of the day, if I can’t stop Matrexia, he won’t have that much time to think of me. It will be robbed from him. Along with his last breath.

  I keep telling you that I’m fighting the imprinting process. On every level. Every single time tingles race up my spine and plunge into my cheeks when Spencer latches a hand on my arm, I push it back. I control my desire with cold hard reason.

  But with John it is different, isn’t it? Because with John my body has always been pulled in another way. He doesn’t make my body race and tingle with nerves and heat and passion. With him, my attraction is-soul deep, not just body-deep. And more than anything, it penetrates my heart.

  I’m not trying to be sappy here; I’m trying to distinguish something important in the little time I have left.

  You see, John Rowley may be a complicated man. I may not agree with all the decisions he’s made. But at least he has tried to retain his scrap of humanity in this game. And that is not necessarily something I can say about myself.

  Because the more I’ve been pushed into it, and the more hard decisions I’ve been forced to make, the more I’ve felt myself losing hold of who I used to be. It’s not just that my friends and family have fallen away. It’s that I’ve fallen away in every respect until what’s left of me has been contorted and formed into the Last Queen.

  And that’s why I’m attracted to John. That’s why I want to reach a hand out to him, even though my body is being controlled by Matrexia. I need to break through the spell to save him and everyone else. Because he’s a path back to reality, isn’t he?

  He shows me that it doesn’t matter how far down the rabbit hole I fall, there’ll always be a way out.

  I hear Matrexia give a specific hiss. It sounds like steam escaping a pipe. It’s low and sharp and hard, and her lips look as if they’ll pare back from her face as she presses them together was so much muscular tension, it looks as if she’s trying to extrude pasta.

  This is it, I realize.

  The final blow.

  I’ve lost track of the rest of the fight. It’s not just that it’s behind me, it’s that as Matrexia keeps a hand on mine, she’s still casting the warp spell, and my senses are narrowing in, trying to follow that path of light.

  Antonio and the rest of John’s pieces could be winning, or they could have been completely routed – it wouldn’t matter.

  The only thing that matters is Matrexia as I feel her cast a spell. I’m connected to her body through her hand, and the force of the spell is unmistakable. These dense, vibrating, hot pulses of magic suddenly blast through her. They collect in her free hand, charge over her naked arm, and make it spark as if it’s fire thrown in water.

  John doubles back, his eyes opening wide.

  There’s nowhere he can go.

  He looks at me.

  I look at him.

  And though not a word can be said, so much passes between us.

  I will not lose him, and apparently, John won’t lose me, either. As, at the last moment, he reaches out a hand toward me.

  I rapidly narrow in and focus on his fingertips. On the marks, on the scars and blood. On the rough skin that has seen far too many years in this thankless game.

  And yet, on a man who, in his last moment, would reach for someone else rather than taking the time to save his own wretched life.

  Time narrows down to a point. It’s the third time it’s happened today, but that doesn’t damn matter. The only thing that matters is it gives me the opportunity I need.

  Though it’s clear that Matrexia is more powerful than me, and before she died, she must’ve been a hell of a queen to reckon with, at the end of the day, she’s dead. She’s nothing more than a shadow. And as I’ve already proved when I fought one of Senator Rogers’ other queens, I know how to fight shadows.

  Thus far, I haven’t done anything to protect anyone.

  It’s time to act.

  But no, I haven’t lost sight of the final prize. I know what I will ultimately do.

  At the same time, I will not allow John to fall.

  If Matrexia wants to warp, it’s time to warp.

  The last time, she cast the spell through me, and I had absolutely no idea how she was doing it.

  Now it’s time for me to throw myself into the natural order of things and learn the spell in the second and a half that’s given to me.

  As her arm slashes toward John’s face and I hear Antonio scream in the background, I throw myself toward that light in my mind.

  I let it encase and encapsulate me, almost as if I’m allowing it to become my entire world as the rest of reality is whittled down and the only thing I know and care about is that light.

  And that light?

  It’s the center of the game, isn’t it?

  This path that seems to be leading inexorably onward, this path that keeps asking me to sacrifice more and more just to live and survive another day.

  And yet I throw myself toward it with naught but the strength in my heart.

  Just as Matrexia slices her arm toward John, I grab hold of space.

  I focus in on the headquarters, and I imagine myself there.

  Matrexia’s arm reaches John. It touches his shirt, instantly burning through it and exposing his chest. Just before it can
drive through the muscle and cartilage and bone and slash through his heart, space snaps.

  Last time, all I had to do was grab something and it was transported to me. This time I have to transport myself.

  I throw my full consciousness into the memory of Senator Rogers’ headquarters. From the exact smell of the sandstone building, to the darkness that never leaves, no matter how many lights you have on.

  Something snaps.

  It’s Matrexia and me.

  The space we occupy seems to shake, and we’re drawn backward. Matrexia’s arm is pulled off John’s chest just as blood drips down from a long wound.

  But it doesn’t slice through. And importantly, the light and life never leave his eyes as he stares at me one final time.

  And in that final second, he has the chance to move his lips. “I’m coming for you,” he says.

  Then blackness.

  We transport away.

  But those words echo and ring through my mind, punching through my soul and heart like a beaten destiny.

  He’s coming for me.

  I just hope he is quick enough.

  Chapter 5

  We arrive in one of the rooms in Senator Rogers’ headquarters.

  Specifically, we arrive in my room.

  I’ve spent the most time here hiding from Spencer over the past several days, so my memory of this place is the strongest.

  We arrive right in the center of the room, and as magic ebbs and flows around me, I fall to my knees, my body feeling instantly as if it’s possessed of impossible strength and yet impossible weakness.

  I swear I feel every single sensation under the sun. I swear I become every single sensation under the sun, too, until my form is whittled down to nothing more than pain and the light touch of a kiss and the weakness of death and the heat of a fire. It’s this confusing, impossible-to-explain mix that rushes through me and owns me for several seconds until my head jerks back and I gasp.

  Slowly my consciousness returns to my real body, and I bring up my free hand, staring at it before I slap it on my chest. I drive it in hard as I breathe with all my strength.

  Though Matrexia has also fallen down to one knee, she swiftly stands.