Кэрри Вон - That Game We Played During the War

“The point,” Valk said, addressing the nurse, “is to fight little wars without hurting anyone.”

And there was silence then, because yes, they all had stories.

He made his next move and took his hand away. Her gaze lit, her heart opening. Even the way she played with him, all messy and at random, a moment like this could still happen, where the board opened up as if by magic and her way was clear. Because it was her turn it didn’t matter if he knew what she was thinking, because he couldn’t do anything about it. She moved the rook, and his king was cornered.

“Check.”

It wasn’t mate. He could still get out of it. But he really was backed into a corner, because his next moves and hers would all lead back to check, and they could chase each other around the board, and it would be splendid. Neither could have planned for this.

He threw up his hands and settled back against his pillow. “I’m exhausted. You’ve exhausted me.” She laughed a gleeful, satisfied laugh.

The observers looked on. “This is how you won,” one of them said, amazed. He wasn’t talking about the game.

“No,” Calla said. “This is how we failed to lose.”

“I learned the difference from her,” Valk said, and was that a bit of pride in his tone? She might never know for certain.

Calla started resetting the board for the next game, not even realizing that meant she was having a good time. The nurse interrupted her.

“Technician Belan, the major really must rest now,” he said kindly, recognizing Calla’s eagerness when she herself didn’t.

“Oh. Of course.”

“I promise I’ll rest in just a moment,” Valk said. He was speaking to the doctors and attendants, who’d expressed a concern she couldn’t see. They drifted away because he wanted them to.

That left them studying each other; he who could see everything, and she who could only muddle through, being herself, proudly and unabashedly.

She asked, abruptly, “Do you still have that old cardboard set I made?”

“No. When Ovorton closed, I lost track of it. Probably got swept away with the trash.”

“Good,” she said. “It was very ugly.”

“I miss it,” Valk said.

“You shouldn’t. I’m glad it’s all over. So glad.”

That dark place that she barely remembered opened up, and she started crying. She had thought to pretend that none of it ever happened, and so carried around this blackness that no one could see, and it would have swallowed her up if Valk hadn’t sent that telegram. She got that message and knew it was all true, knew it had all happened, and he would be able to see her.

She scrubbed tears from her face and didn’t try to hide any of this.

“I wasn’t sure how much you remembered,” Valk said softly.

“I wasn’t sure either,” she said, laughing now. Laughing and crying. The darkness shrank.

“Are you sorry you came?”

“Oh, no. It’s just…” She put her hand in his and tried to explain. Discovered she couldn’t speak. She had no words. And it didn’t matter.

Carrie Vaughn is the New York Times bestselling author of the Kitty Norville books, including Kitty’s Big Trouble, Kitty Goes to War, and Kitty and the Midnight Hour. She is also the author of the standalone novels After the Golden Age and Discord’s Apple, and the young adult books Voice of Dragons and Steel. Vaughn had the nomadic childhood of the typical Air Force brat, with stops across the country from California to Florida. She earned her B.A. from Occidental College in Los Angeles, and a master’s in English from the University of Colorado at Boulder. She has worked as a Renaissance Festival counter wench, a theater usher, an editor, a buyer at an independent bookstore, and an administrative assistant. She lives in Boulder, Colorado. You can sign up for email updates here.

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Copyright © 2016 by Carrie Vaughn

Art copyright © 2016 by John Jude Palencar