A Game of Chess

The queen holds all of the power. The king is the most valuable piece. Trust me, I know.

I like to play chess, and seeing I'm an assassin in Yorin, I play chess a lot, both metaphorically and not-so metaphorically. I'm pretty good at the game myself. I know what I'm doing and I can easily predict what my opponent is going to do.

Tonight, I'm to assassinate the king. The queen pays well. That's not the problem. I just do not feel like doing that is the right thing. She's promised me safety out of the country. She's promised a pardon if I, by chance, get caught.

I don't think she's scared of any stories I might tell--she's spun so many lies around the people and this kingdom it's like a spider web. And we're all the flies, the pawns.

She wants the throne. And as long as I do my job, she'll get it, too. 

I'm crouching here now, under the king's window, listening to the queen moving around the room, lighting candles and then embroidering until he is asleep.

"He's a sleep," she whispers softly, leaning out the window.

The queen is a beautiful woman, with long, silken gold waves, clear, blue eyes, and a perfect, pale complexion. There is something else to her, like ice or the blade of steel, that makes me not want to make her angry.

I climb up into the window easily, and stare at the king, lying in the bed. He looks tired and worn out, his face pale and drawn. I realize he is sick. And suddenly I know, I can't do this.

"I can't do this," I tell her.

And there it is, that sharp, steely edge to her.

"You can't?" she questioned softly and gently, but I am not fooled by this facade. I can see the anger glinting dangerously in her eyes.

"I can't kill a sick man," I explain, but there's more. I just can't explain those feelings. 

"You're a filthy assassin! You're paid for this! You don't have loyalty or honor!" She's raised her voice, and the king murmurs in his sleep.

We are silent for a moment.

I pull myself up straight and stare her in the eye. "I may not have loyalties, but I do have honor."

I turn and leave the room.

###

The next morning, the king finds a scroll tied with a piece of rotting string beside his bed. Enclosed is the letter from the queen to an assassin, requesting his services in killing the king.

I placed it there.

The king does not know this, but the queen does.

But I have played my game well. The queen is executed. The king...well, I didn't kill him, so I think I failed my first assassination ever. But what does it matter? I won the game.

The queen wanted me to kill the king; the king wanted me to kill the queen. 

I made my decision.