Page 7 of Faeling
Ravenna’s heart hurt to think on that too deeply, but she did like the notion that Aine’s face wasn’t forgotten. That this mighty king would remember it, even if he never knew how important she truly was to him.
Opening a lacquered box on the table, Vallek began pulling out the pieces for a game oftalfon. The board was set between them, a beautiful thing of polished black walnut, the diamond-shaped places inlaid with gold. He lined up his pieces on the board, each figure a single piece of exquisitely carved stone.
“You’re not too tired to play?” she inquired. She’d heard he and his berserkers had only just returned that very afternoon.
“Never,” he said, “unless you mean to rally and present me a real challenge.”
Ravenna guffawed in offense. “It’s rude not to let a king win.”
“And imprudent,” he agreed, winking before he slid the box of pieces over to her.
Talfonwas a game of strategy played between two parties. They each had the same number of figures, each with their own strengths and weaknesses. Although a bout was between two players and two sets, there were four sets to choose from, each with its own unique traits.
As always, Vallek had chosen the black set, built for speed and lateral movement.
Ravenna preferred the pink quartz set, at least when she played him. Much stronger in its defensive traits, she enjoyed making him test her defenses and find ways to make her bend.
Today, she chose the set of gold. This one was less maneuverable but powerful. She smiled to herself to see how one of his heavy brows arched in interest at her choice.
With the pieces all set, they began. Vallek always let her have the first move, and she always enjoyed squandering it. She often moved her pieces randomly in the first few moves, just to see how he would react—and she knew it vexed him.
Were he born with fae blood, she might have thought him gifted with a magical propensity for reading people. Behind his affability and charm was a ruthlessness she admired; through his smiles and banter, he was already reading his opponent, always looking for how to gain the upper hand.
This was on display most when he playedtalfonand when he played politics. Elsewhere, the signs were far more subtle. He was good with others in a way that made her almost jealous. He saw their needs and wants, could rise to fulfill them or use such desires against them with the skill of a politician far older.
She supposed, with how young he’d been when he first sat upon the throne of Balmirra, he’d had to learn. Quickly.
Ravenna admired him for it. It spoke to a will to survive, one born of desperation and impossible chances.
She knew such a fate well.
Although she’d told him as little as possible about herself, perhaps he still sensed this understanding. Perhaps it was why he sought her company.
A king such as him didn’t need to share an evening mead and bout oftalfonwith his soothsayer. She’d tell him her visionswith or without his friendship. That he offered it, inasmuch as a man of his position could to an old human woman, remained inexplicable.
Ravenna could hazard a guess, but that guess would indeed be hazardous. Whatever he might feel toward her, whatever bond they might share, it didn’t matter. It couldn’t.
She was using him, after all.
Not that he wasn’t using her right back, of course, but she suspected he’d be at least a little grumpy to know she intended to help him unite the orc clans, to build them up into a strong nation, and then aim their armies at the faelands itself. She hadn’t quite worked out the logistics on that last part, but she had time. An opportunity would present itself, she was sure.
Building the orcish kingdom had already taken Vallek some ten years, and she’d been with him for almost three of those now. It would likely take just as many to finally solidify the alliances between the holdout clans and force the more intransigent ones into line. She reckoned she’d have to give the new kingdom about a year for Vallek to put the final pieces in place.
After that—who knew, perhaps a war with the fae would be exactly what the new kingdom needed to rally together.
And while the orcs and the fae clashed, Ravenna would take her revenge. Whether Amaranthe would lead her armies and prove an easy target, or Ravenna would have to secret herself to Fallorian and strike while her armies were away, remained to be seen.
No visions nor opportunities had presented themselves to elucidate that part of the path, but again, Ravenna was patient. She was right where she needed to be, that she knew.
As their pieces moved about the board, Vallek regaled her with meaningless talk of his travels. This most recent journeyhad been to the southernmost border of the orcish territories, along the southern Shanago River. Mining operations had popped up all along the river; the human kingdoms had long been covetous of the minerals and ores found in the Griegens, and although these camps weren’t officially on orcish lands, the water they used flowed downstream to orcish villages.
“So what will you do about them?” she asked, moving her raven piece up the board.
He huffed disdainfully. “We burned their camp and threw the equipment down a ravine. Even if they wanted to return, it would take months to rebuild.”
Ravenna bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. It wasn’t that she delighted in violence, but she could appreciate the expediency. As charming as the orc king could be, there was no mistaking him when he issued a threat.
The fae would find him a formidable opponent, and Ravenna relished the thought.
