Game of Pawns

Prologue

The candle's once burned wick sparked, coming to life vibrantly. Violently. Light sputtered then diffused languidly through the abnormally dark room that cocooned the children while they dozed. They never truly slept, these two, for they dreamed of the pain and horror that found them whenever they were awake. Now, here she was, drawing the tattered duvet away from their bruised and bony forms, listening to their rattling breathing, seeing the blood in their light blue veins. Lizavieta nearly paused, unable to articulate the command that would rouse them.

Then she schooled her pained face into careful obedience. "It's time," she said in a whisper that was meant to conceal the dryness of her throat.

It didn't take much to make them rise. The first to open his eyes and study her was the brown-haired one, whose curls formed an unruly nimbus about his head. His large endearing eyes reminded her of those dolls people were fond of, yet the structure of his face showed the promise of ruggedness and harshness in the future as he aged. If he aged, she reminded herself solemnly. Sighting her there, the boy grumbled something then tried to roll away from her hands. His shoulder bumped into the second boy, whose straight, short black hair and slanted gaze gave him the expression of perpetual angst. Realizing who was among them, the boy's baleful expression softened somewhat, but she knew not to expect an apology from that one.

The black-haired child rarely spoke to anyone, save for his cellmate.

One and Two. That had been their names up to now, although such numbers were hardly names at all. Such thoughtless labels meant a single thing: that the boys were tools in an experiment and were not meant to survive this far. And yet, here they were.

"You've earned a reward, children," Lizavieta heard herself say. Though her people could not lie, she could speak in riddles and with deceptive structures that kept her from saying what was going to happen.

"A reward?" mumbled One, brushing his brown tresses away from his eyes groggily.

At his side, Two merely sat upright, his sharp mind visibly processing the information. She saw him glance to the window in confusion. There was usually sunlight pouring through the slats in the ceiling whenever she woke them. Today, only darkness.

"Yes, things are about to change for you, so get ready," she answered.

She rolled up the blanket and set it aside before clapping her hands together once. This herded them into the unsullied corner of the room, where there was naught but dirt stains. Another corner was used for the chamber pot. A second housed a wardrobe, the only piece of furniture in the cell. Lizavieta motioned to the double doors on the wooden wardrobe and then watched as the boys opened the doors, pulled out identical white outfits, and got dressed in silence. Though she knew the children would never disobey an order from her, she knew that One oftentimes would get a streak of rebelliousness, and Two would blindly follow. Sometimes, One would speak out of turn, and Two would punctuate the statement with a toneless huff.

Yes, Lizavieta knew One and Two, having cared for them for seven years already. She knew their personalities, their quirks. A pressure mounted in her chest, above her heart. It was an emotion she loathed giving a name to, and so she didn't.

"We're ready," she heard One say from behind.

Turning, Lizavieta almost shuddered. They were holding hands in a fruitless attempt to soothe one another. Though the children did not look alike, they had been raised together and thought they were brothers. The Lord of the Court had thought it ingenuous to raise two children in the same cell and watch how their relationship grew compared to other subjects in the experiment. They were meant to be partners in a Game, after all. Lizavieta never liked to see those tiny fingers intertwine, to hear them whisper pacifying comments to one another. She was but a servant of the Court, albeit a favored one. She needed to follow the orders of the superior echelon, lest she be dishonored and humiliated before the rest.