Even in medieval times, news did travel between the covens, and while he had never heard the details, he knew Max had abruptly sent Concepcion from his home, resulting in the death of a few who couldn’t escape sunrise. Simeon and his flock had coffins to protect them, so Simeon wasn’t concerned about that. He was, however, concerned that if he continued down this path, he could lose a friend, and he did consider Max a friend.

“Fine,” Simeon said, throwing his hands in the air. “Your precious peasant is off the table. So there has to be something else you want to put up. After all, think of what you’ll get if you win.”

***

Eight days later, Simeon, his men, and Angelique laid themselves to rest in their coffins. Daubs of clay, mud, and grass were applied to fill all the cracks, and as the sun broke the horizon, the wagons pulled away. Tethered to the last were three of Max’s finest steeds.

The wager made that first night was also the last Max placed at that tiny table in the study. Simeon continued to dangle new and tempting offers, but much to his disappointment, Max dismissed them all. He had learned his lesson for what he hoped would be the last time. There was no one better when it came to playing chess, and Simeon reminded Max of that fact for the next seven days.

Over meals, card games, and chess, Max, his men, and Bennett had no choice but to listen as Simeon bragged about his prowess. He proclaimed his genius repeatedly, pontificating to the point of obnoxiousness about his skill and Max’s lack thereof. The spines of Max’s flock were stretched to their limits as insults were slung at their leader, and many a night, not a word was spoken at the long table in the great hall except, of course, those spewed from Simeon’s mouth.

It had been a very long eight days, and when Max walked into his study, he cast a dirty look at the chessboard before making his way to his desk. A few minutes later, Bennett entered and made a beeline for the tiny table.

“There’s nothing for you there, Bennett,” Max said, glancing at his notes. “I believe we were discussing Greek scholars when last we met.”

“Could we discuss this instead?” Bennett said, her eyes fixed on the chessboard.

“Why? After a week of listening to Simeon, I would think I’d be the last person you’d ask about chess.”

Bennett took a moment to get her thoughts together. “Can I speak freely?”

“When have I not allowed you to do so?”

“It’s not about studies. It’s about…well, it’s about Simeon.”

“What about him?”

“I found him loathsome and discourteous.”

“Yes, well, he can be that at times.”

“And you let him talk to you like that. Why?”