From Pawn To Queen Novel Novels & Stories

"It's time, Rayla; I won't be put off any longer. And neither will you." Uncoiling herself from within a fictional cave in my breast, the she-wolf inside me yawned luxuriously and rose, her fangs now bared. "It is about time we got acquainted, you and I. You have denied me, denied yourself, for too long. Now, it is time that you claimed what is rightfully owed to you."

' He held a fountain pen the size of a spear, and the ink inside it glowed with a predatory, crimson light. "Inconsistent," the Editor boomed, the word appearing in giant, block letters in the air above us. "Messy. Too many protagonists. The 'Shadow Duke' was supposed to die. The 'Fallen Queen' should have remained in the South. And these children..." He pointed the giant pen at Cian and Mina. "They are a sequel I didn't authorize." "We aren't characters in your book!" I shouted, stepping onto a fresh line of blue light. I gripped Kaelen’s fading hand, trying to anchor him with my own weight. "We are people. We breathe, we bleed, and we make our own choices!"

But then came the final blow. Samuel Voss stood. “Tell me, Oliver,” Samuel said, addressing House Phantom’s wildcard. “What happens to a pawn when it reaches the other side of the board?” Oliver blinked. “What?” “A pawn,” Samuel repeated, tilting his head, “when it moves forward enough… what does it become?” There was silence. “A queen,” Oliver answered. Samuel smiled. “Exactly. Which means a pawn can change.” He leaned in slightly. “So what if Lord Aldric was a pawn at first? That doesn’t mean he stayed one.”

“You’re so impatient. Always rushing to the end without savoring the journey. But fine. Let’s get to the part where you threaten me and I laugh in your face.” “You’re out of moves,” Levi said, stepping closer. “The rival family? They’re using you as a pawn, and you’re too arrogant to see it.” She stiffened, just slightly, but enough for me to notice. “Is that what you think?” she said smoothly, standing now, her heels clicking against the floor as she circled us. “Let me tell you something, Levi. Pawns don’t win. But queens?” She stopped directly in front of him, her smile razor-sharp. “We take the whole board.”

She was being relocated. The pawn was being moved across the board.

“If they want to hurt me just to get to you… then aren’t you the one they’re really after?” He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. His silence told me everything. I took a slow step toward him, my heart pounding loud enough to drown the fear. “So all of this—this marriage, this cage, it was never about me at all, was it? I’m just a pawn in your war.” His eyes darkened, his jaw locking so tightly I could hear the grind of his teeth. “You’re not a pawn,” he said finally, his voice like a blade. “You’re the queen. And queens are the most dangerous pieces on the board.”

"I almost wish things were different. That we were meeting under other circumstances. You would have liked me, before Dante destroyed everything." He poured himself another whiskey, raising it in a mock toast. "To Arabelle Moretti-Valerio. The Queen who doesn't know she's playing the wrong side of the board." He drank. "But you will soon enough. And when you do, this whole game changes." Outside his window, the city lights twinkled innocently. Somewhere in that city, Arabelle was probably celebrating her victory. Probably in Dante's arms, feeling safe and loved and powerful. Enjoying the calm before the storm.

I stab my chest harshly with my finger, “I make the decisions. Not you!” “You’ve been absent for three years Kellen. While you were gone, Mike and I have been making the decisions. We kept New Moon fed and clothed. We kept the kingdom safe and dealt with the unhappy citizens. Not you because you had to try and save your beloved queen. The one you weren’t mated to! I have watched my mother die, my father, my sister!” She hisses as her eyes fill with tears.

It had just shifted. And the Queen on the chessboard was finally moving.

“You’re going to resign. Today. And you’re going to disappear so quietly, people wonder if you ever existed here.” He nodded, shame crawling across his face. She watched him leave. And then—finally—allowed herself to sit. Her hands trembled slightly as she placed them on her lap. Not from anger. But from grief. At exactly 9:17 p.m., Isla received a new envelope. No wax seal this time. Just a note written in the same careful script: That was the pawn. Now protect your King. — Q Isla stared at the words. And her mind raced toward only one possibility.