Page 1 of Soulbound
Prologue
Being able to See the future is not always a gift.
– Cleo Montcalm
* * *
CLEO MONTCALM WOKE to a dream.
She sat at a small table in a room with no walls, a room that stretched into infinity. The ceiling was the night sky, blossoming to early dawn on the horizon, and a floor of black and white tiles gleamed beneath her. A chessboard reigned on the table in front of her, a game in progress. There was a silence to the place that felt somewhat leaden, and her skin itched as though thousands of invisible eyes watched her.
She was not alone.
She never was, when she found herself at this immortal chessboard.
"You look tired," said a faintly amused voice, a voice that echoed slightly, as if it came from a throat that was somehow hollow. The figure seated opposite her wore a silk cloak and hood of purest ebony, and it could have been male or female—she could never tell.
It was certainly not human, regardless of gender.
"What am I doing here?" she demanded, her heart leaping in her chest. She pushed away from the small table with its chessboard, and turned around, but there was no escape. Not physically. "Why did you pull me into this cursed place again?"
"What did I tell you the last we met?" The voice finally sounded male.
Cleo slowly turned to look at him—it. The last time she'd woken in this plane had been following the incident in which her husband, Sebastian Montcalm, had been gravely wounded. "You said I was here to make the moves," she whispered, and she could no longer avoid the sight of that mocking chessboard. "And I did. I put my bishop into play, and it defeated yours."
"Defeated?"
There were now two white bishops on the chessboard. "Verity Hastings came to our side," Cleo said, her voice strengthening. "She's one of my pieces now. I'm winning."
But even as she said the words, she began to take in the structure of play.
"Are you," said the entity, and it wasn't a question.
The board had changed. The white queen no longer wore her blindfold; a fitting tribute, since Cleo herself had lost the piece of linen that guarded her regular sight, and protected her true Vision. The white king wore her husband's face, and though he still protected her, he'd moved several paces away from her to counter the demon's threat.
Or perhaps the distance indicated the way he'd left her following the demon's previous move.
After all, it was a marriage of convenience between them, not a true alliance.
The black king's carved face had finally revealed itself. Drake de Wynter, Sebastian's father, was now the human vessel for the demon, a blow from which they were struggling to recover. The black king radiated menace as it replaced a square that had previously held one of her heretofore-unseen pawns.
Who had she lost? She couldn't see all the faces on the little pieces, as though some magic obscured them from her.
I don't want to make the moves. I don't want to set the play. Cleo wrapped her arms around her middle. This game had consequences beyond what she was prepared to pay, but the last time they'd played, the demon had been merciless.
"Of course you make the moves. You're the one who can see the future." Those hollow words were branded across her mind from the previous dream it had dragged her into.
But I can't. I can't see the future anymore.
And her pieces were her friends. One wrong move and she'd lose another one.
"Your move," the demon said.
The black queen had advanced with her array of pawns. Cleo couldn't see the trap or what the demon intended with this advance, but she knew it was a threat. Premonition itched along her spine, like icy little prickles. Following the loss of her blindfold, and her Visions along with it, Premonition was virtually all she had left.
"And what if I refuse?" She lifted her gaze.
The demon remained still. "Then you forfeit your turn. And I gain it. If you refuse to play, then I will make my move."
