Page 22 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

Moves planned out, a piece withdrawn.

What am I?”

Kierse stared at Estelle as if she had grown a second head. It sounded like gibberish. Wouldn’t it have been great to have the master of knowledge at her command to put the pieces together for her? But wasn’t that why Estelle didn’t play with Graves anymore? He figured out her games too easily. He always won. And Estelle wanted to win, despite whatever she said about not caring about winning or losing.

She needed to look at this section by section. She wished that she’d written it down. Fuck.

Okay. She remembered “not given but taken away,” which seemed obvious. Something that “leaves a debt.” That could be something like a promise or obligation. Hmm…that didn’t feel right. How would a promise be “taken away”?

She needed the next lines. Something about love and loss.

“Can I have the second pair of lines again?”

Estelle sighed but repeated them.

Kierse bit her lip and considered what love, honor, and a cause had to do with offering something up willingly but with a loss. She had no idea. Possibly forgiving someone. You have to give something of yourself to forgive in any of those scenarios. But for a cause…how did that fit?

“And the final lines?”

Estelle finished out the couplet that spoke about strategy, a pawn, and losing pieces. So chess. She knew that much. She’d played chess with Jason to hone her strategic capabilities when on a job. What game could be played here that related to a promise or forgiveness?

None.

She didn’t think any of it fit.

“Do you have an answer?” Estelle asked.

“My five minutes aren’t up,” Kierse said, working through the problem.

All three sections talked about giving something up—taken away, loss, and withdrawn. What could be forfeited in each of these situations?

“The clock is ticking,” Estelle said, pointing at an ornate clock on the wall and watching Kierse intently.

Kierse glanced at the clock and winced. She was down to her last minute.

She went back to the last couplet, which made the most sense to her. What happened in chess when she withdrew a piece? A loss. A strategic move. A capture by an opponent.

Was Estelle trying to show Kierse she was on a chess board? That her next move was wrong somehow? Or that her opponent had outwitted her? No, riddles were more veiled than that. What was something offered willing, but at a loss, not given, but taken away, and used in chess?

“Time,” Estelle said. “I will have your answer.”

Kierse wracked her brain. She needed this answer. A creeping awareness came over her. A tactic that Jason had always been better at than Kierse. When they’d played chess, he’d usually won, because he was willing to let her take his pieces so that he could get ahead. And in his mind, people were as disposable as the chess pieces. She had never been able to think like that—to think that someone was worth throwing away. But it was the answer that she needed here.

“Sacrifice,” Kierse said.

Estelle’s face froze in surprise. “Correct.” Then she smiled dangerously. She gestured to Kierse. “The sacrificial lamb.”

Kierse ground her teeth. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” Estelle asked as she retrieved an envelope. “Do you truly believe that Graves thought the cauldron was here? That he could take down my security system so easily, clearing the way for you to come up here and enter this room? He was using you to get information.”

Kierse felt the sting of Estelle’s words. She had assumed that if she lost, the truth would hurt, but even in winning the truth Estelle imparted was painful.

She had thought that she was in on the game this time. That they’d planned it together. Only now was it obvious that he’d kept part of the strategy to himself. Once again she had fallen right into his trap. The whole thing was exhausting.

Estelle held out the envelope. “Your prize.”

Kierse snatched it out of her hand. “This better be worth it.”

---