Nyx did as he asked and bowed stiffly. “How may I serve you, General?” She hovered near the exit, but he only beckoned her closer, taking a long sip from a glass of dark alcohol.

Nyx tried not to let her unease show as she edged farther into the room. She was rarely alone with Damocles. Not in there. In the hall, the way he’d let his hands linger on her uniform wasn’t long enough to be improper, but not short enough to be considered impersonal. She reckoned he knew that, too.

Maps of the Perseus star system were spread across his desk, where young soldiers were trained in simulated battles. It had been years since Nyx had been there. The planets were frigid—deliberately so. A soldier’s mettle was tested through exposure.

Damocles refilled his glass from the crystal decanter and sat back, his steely gaze meeting hers. His eyes were bloodshot. “Have you ever played zatrikion?”

Nyx frowned. “Sir?”

The prince stood, the chair scraping against the hardwood. “It was a favorite game of my sister’s,” he said, moving to the trunk on the far end of the room. He opened it and took out an ancient, battered board. “She and I played almost every day in my youth. Sometimes until the early hours of the morning, despite how tired we were.” Damocles looked at her expectantly.

Nyx cleared her throat. “Yes. I played with the soldiers in my garrison.”

Damocles set the board on the table. “Play a round with me.”

Uneasily, Nyx shifted on her feet. “I ought to get back to my post—”

“I tell you whether or not to return to your post.” Damocles gestured to the chair across from him, draining the glass and filling it again. She could smell the rum. “Now sit.”

Nyx pursed her lips and, reluctantly, settled across from him. The general arranged the pieces, his movements calm, collected. Despite her growing unease, Nyx kept her expression even as he moved the first piece on the board: the Priest.

He said nothing as Nyx slid her Peasant piece forward. He returned the move, taking her Peasant. Nyx had played this game both with other soldiers and her superiors during war. It kept her mind sharp and focused. Strategy was the first thing to go after the exhaustion of battle.

But Nyx did not play with Damocles the way she played with her peers. He was a prince, her superior, and he could command her execution for the smallest slight. And so she held back, letting him take another piece, and another, as she pretended to think her way through the game.

On his end of the table, the decanter level decreased. The scent of alcohol in the air made her stomach want to revolt.