Page 101 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

I didn’t dare to say anything after that, fearing to cause her even more pain. But Maisie gently asked, “Where did you hide the Book of Shadows, Nana? And if it caused so much pain, why is it so important for us to find it?”

Mairead looked at Maisie with a frown. “Amelia, you’ve gotten so big.”

My friend’s eyes watered at that, and she hugged her grandmother once more. “My name is Maisie, Nana. I’m your granddaughter.” She tried, but the elderly woman only laughed, patting her granddaughter’s back. “Silly, that is my name, and my children are far too young to be having babies.”

I looked outside the window, where it seemed like a storm was coming our way. From what we’ve learned, I think we’re only at the beginning.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ARCHER

“I take the right passage,and my Rebel takes your right-hand man out, which leaves your King defenceless, and I take the Sorcery’s Dagger to make the kingdom mine. Which means…”

“Can’t I challenge your Rebel to keep the dagger and my throne?”

Jesse looked up from the game and frowned at me. “That’s not—No. You can’t. If you’re out, you’re out. If you want it more visual, I can act like my Rebel stabs your King.” He picked up both ornaments and demonstrated his taking mine down. I just stared at him.

“You don’t have to demonstrate it. I get it.”

Jesse considered that for a moment, then placed my King and his Rebel back on the board—a labyrinth made of wood. You played it like checkmate, but instead of two teams trying to eliminate each other from parallel sides, this game had a monarchy to overthrow. The rebellion started at the labyrinth’s entrance and worked through the confusing path, while the King’s side had to defend from the inside out. This game was damn confusing and exhausting. Every time you played, the labyrinth walls moved, preventing you from using a pattern. Notthat your opponent would play the same strategies anyway—at least not if your opponent was the grandson of the man who invented it.

For me, the only interesting thing aboutSpellboundwas that nowhere in the rules did it state which side was the“good”one and which was the“bad”one. Was the King cruel, and the rebellion wanted to overthrow him? Or was it the other way around?

I leaned back in my chair. “I can’t believe this game is so popular.”

Jesse started to place the ornaments back in the wooden box, taking them off the board. He shrugged. “It’s my grandfather’s least popular one. But it was the one he was most proud of.”

Berkshire had designed dozens of strategy games over the years, and whileSpellboundhad made his name famous, he’d designed other games that had grown more popular over time.

“It was the very first game he ever taught me,” my friend said, swallowing thickly.

When Antony Berkshire had died two years ago, many people had mourned the man who made others laugh on TV and designed the games that tainted their childhoods. But his grandson was the one who spent his nights calling out for his grandfather, wishing he could say goodbye one last time to the man who had raised him like a son when his own father hadn’t been good enough.

He never came.

And even though I didn’t like this game, I played with him whenever he knocked on my door with the old wooden box squeezed under his arm. Because I knew this was how he felt most connected with his grandfather.

“You want to play another round?” I asked when I noticed his mood changing at the mention of his grandfather.

But Jesse shook his head and gave me a small, lopsided smile. “Nah, I’d rather sneak some biscuits from Betty to my room while she’s on her cigarette break.”

Jesse glanced at the door connecting the kitchen to the dining hall, where we were currently sitting at our self-claimed table. I smirked at him. “She’ll have your head.”

He swung his leg over the bench and stood up. “Only if she catches me, and as you may know, I’m the best thief this academy has ever had. The dozen spoons in my room are proof enough.”

I breathed a laugh and followed him up to the kitchen. “You’re a kleptomaniac with an odd obsession with spoons.”

Jesse pushed the door open and turned to look at me as he continued to walk backwards. “Spoons are considerably very useful when you’re a designer. Don’t tell me you don’t love my version of spoon chess. I’m brilliant.” He laughed and grabbed a cookie, knowing exactly where to find them. This wasn’t his first time robbing the kitchen. It’s like a once-a-week thing with him.

“Oh, Betty, darling, those cookies are dry as sand,” he muttered, disappointed, with a mouthful of food. I leaned against the wall and watched him devour two more before moving to grab a tissue, where he stacked the biscuits in.

“How is it going with sweet Dollie, brother?” Jesse asked, changing the subject.

I sighed, rubbing my hand over my jaw. “Fine. We’ve made a deal to be nothing more than friends. It’s nice to be around her. She’s been smiling a lot lately, and every time I see her look at me when she thinks I’m distracted, it almost feels like I don’t have any worries at all anymore.”

“You know, normal friends don’t necessarily talk about each other that way.”

“Normal friends aren’t necessarily cursed to fall in love only for their lives to end in doom,” I replied, and Jesse shrugged,folding the tissue over his biscuits to keep them safe and secure until he was in his room.

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