*Trigger warning: implied child abuse*
Chapter 2- Back Rank
Back Rank- in which all pieces are in their starting positions.
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Silas Goldstein, Two, Angeles
Silas absentmindedly ran a hand through his dark blonde hair. The faint tick-tick-tick of the analog rang in his ears, counting down the seconds for what would be his final move. He examined the board. His opponent had set up Alekhine's Gun perfectly—almost. Two black rooks backed up by a black queen, aligned with Silas's white king. He glanced over to the far side of the board. There. The black king stood, guarded on the left by a single black bishop. There was no backup defense. His opponent had been relying on his obvious offensive move to distract Silas. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as his hazel eyes darted around the checkered board, nearly matching the rush he got while piloting his fighter plane in the midst of battle. His sharp eyes picked apart the positions of the chess pieces, looking for his opening.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Bingo. With a steady hand, Silas moved his remaining white knight. A perfect Arabian Mate.
"Checkmate." He tapped the chess analog, stopping the time with one second left on the clock. One second left to win. And yet, he'd done it.
"Arabian Mate. Interesting counter," Jonas Goldstein said, studying his eldest son's work. "But you were slow." He pointed to the analog, still incriminatingly frozen at one second remaining. "In battle, you don't have five minutes. And you cannot wait until the last second to act." The military general rose.
Silas knew better than to argue. He nodded his head, a familiar gesture by then.
"Silas!" Lucia's voice reached him before she did. "Silas, come to the living room, the Report's on!" His little sister's typically scornful expression had changed to an almost unrecognizable excitement. He turned away from the chess board, curious.
"Yeah, the Report is on every week, Lucia. Why are you so excited?" he asked. The 16-year-old rolled her eyes.
"Do you live under a rock, brother? This week the palace is announcing the Selected for Princess Blair's Selection!"
"First, it's Princess Fleur's Selection now."
"Oh, they're the same anyway."
"And second, remind me again why you're so excited? It's not like we have any chance of being selected. Neither Julian nor I even applied," he reminded her. She looked down at her feet with an expression of poorly masked guilt. Lucia fidgeted with the hem of her tunic. Silas barely had time to question her reaction when she spoke up again.
"Look, can you just please come and watch it with me? I think it'll be really fun. We haven't done any family things since you and Julian joined the military." Her voice held a hint of sadness. Silas softened.
"Fine," he sighed, "but just this once." He got up and followed her to the living room, where a large flat screen television was mounted on the wall, already displaying the national Illéan crest. They sank into the couch.
"What are you two doing?" Julian walked into the room, eying his older brother and younger sister warily.
"Shh. Just come watch. They're going to announce the Selected soon," Lucia said. He shrugged and sat down on her other side. An introduction sequence flashed across the screen, and then a handsome middle-aged man in a sleek navy suit appeared.
"Good evening, Illéa, and welcome back to the Report. I am your host, Benedict Tulane. Today, their Highnesses have a very important announcement for all of Illéa." Behind him, King Edmond rose and stood tall on the stage dais. The camera panned to focus on him and the rest of the royal family sitting behind him. Queen Natalia had a polite smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. Princess Alexia was grinning, barely able to contain her excitement. And next to her…
Silas' eyes zeroed in on Princess Fleur. She sat rigidly, looking straight without focusing on any one thing. Her face was a mixture of nerves and fright- though he could tell that she tried her best to hide it. He'd always known the younger twin princess was a quiet, finicky girl. She always seemed a bit out of place. Like me, he reminded himself. Silas focused his attention back up at the screen, where Benedict stood front-and-center, brandishing a small stack of cards. The Selected, Silas realized.
"Oliver Castro from Allens, Four!" Benedict announced with great bravado. A picture of Oliver flashed on the screen, which was split half-and-half with a close up of Princess Fleur and his application picture. The princess's face remained frozen in a look of polite appeasement. She barely seemed to look at the picture.
"Oh my gosh, Angeles is next!" Lucia seemed to be holding her breath as Benedict flipped to his next cue card.
"Silas Goldstein from Angeles, Two!" Time stopped.
Silas Goldstein.
Angeles.
Two.
He froze, staring at the screen, not quite seeing his official military picture pop up on the Report. Icy blood raced through his body and froze his nerves. Lucia's mouth was agape as she switched her gaze between Silas and the screen, and back again. Julian was still as a statue.
Silas turned slowly, stiff as a board, to face his younger sister. She watched him apprehensively, although the excitement in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Lucia." The word came out forced.
"Silas," she responded. She had the faintest impression of a cheeky smile, but she dared not show it.
"What the hell, Lucia? What is wrong with you?" Julian spoke before Silas had even recovered from his shocked stupor. But his younger brother's sharp tone brought him crashing back down to reality.
"Watch it, Julian." Julian opened his mouth to make a retort, but saw the look in Silas's eyes and thought better of it. "Lucia, did you really—"
"Yes, okay? I submitted your name to the Selection. I didn't think you'd actually be chosen, but… oh my gosh, do you know how amazing this is?" she cut him off. Silas stared incredulously.
"Amazing? Are you serious? Lucia, I have work I need to do." He groaned. "What will Father say? He'll forbid it. And I don't even want to go to the palace, let alone compete for some poor girl's naïve affection!" He felt a sense of panic rise in his throat, but her forced it down. "You don't understand, Lucia. I don't know how things go at the palace. I can't predict what will happen, can't plan, can't prepare. I can't… do anything."
As if on cue, the large frame of Jonas Goldstein entered the room, deep in conversation with their mother, Jessica Goldstein. The three children all fell silent. Their father looked up.
"What's going on here?" he asked upon seeing their shocked and now scared expressions. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Silas felt a roiling fear in his stomach, and the faded scars on his back began to itch.
When the tension in the air became thicker than the humidity outside under the blazing Angeles sun, Lucia finally found the nerve to speak. Her voice was tiny compared to her usually bold tone. "We were watching the Selection lottery on the Report."
"And?" A hint of impatience stained Jonas's baritone voice.
"And… uh…" Silas cast his eyes down and noticed that his sister's hands were clenched tightly on the edge of the couch, turning her knuckles white. She seemed physically pained to say her next words. "… Silas was drawn as one of the Selected."
A beat passed and the tension in the room magnified. As always, Lucia couldn't help but ramble nervously in her current state of fear.
"Look, I was only doing it for fun, and I really didn't think—"
The tension snapped.
"Didn't think what?" Jonas shouted and took a step towards them. Lucia winced and the words died in her throat. "How could you be so damn foolish? Silas is a pilot in the Air Force. He has work to do. How will it look now that he can no longer serve because he's competing in some cheap-shot meat show for a new figurehead on the throne?" Spit flew from his mouth. His face was as red as the battlefields he fought on.
In two strides, Jonas reached the couch and roughly grabbed Lucia by her blonde hair. He jerked her forward, merely two inches from his face. "I'm sick of this 'rebellious teenager' crap. Get in line or get out of this house!" he snarled, pale eyes ablaze.
Without thinking, Silas dove forward, wrenching his father's hand from Lucia.
"Don't touch her." He fought to keep his voice even as his heart pounded rapidly from anger, fear, and adrenaline. Jonas laughed bitterly, a chafing, unpleasant sound. Silas hadn't heard that sound for many years, ever since their father had gained control over his temper. Apparently, it had returned with full force.
"You almost make it seem like you want to participate, boy. What, do you want to take a break from piloting? Is it too much pressure being the 'prodigy' of the Air Force? Would you rather just sit and look pretty next to that—that pawn of a girl for a living?" He spat the words like venom.
As Silas braced himself for the feel of his father's iron grip around neck of his shirt and the following tug, his mother briskly walked towards them and placed a hand on Jonas's arm.
"Jonas, stop," she said with authority. "I'll take care of it." She forced his arm down and steered him towards the door.
"Jessica, they must learn— "
"This won't teach them anything. Let me handle it. Go take a walk and come back only when your anger is in check." With that, she firmly closed the front door. Then she turned to her children.
"Mother, I'm so sorry, I—" Lucia broke off when she saw her mother's stony gaze. Tears still traced down her face and tremors ran through her hands, though she tried hard to hide the fact.
"Go to your rooms." Jessica spoke plainly, her face unreadable. The three of them knew better than to argue. Silas and Julian retreated to their room, Lucia to hers.
They didn't emerge when they heard the front door open and close. They dared not peek out the doorway for several hours.
When they came out for dinner, nobody spoke a word about the Selection.
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Princess Fleur Vanderbilt
The Palace
When the Report ended, Fleur's tight-lipped smile still felt frozen on her face. Her cheeks ached from the nearly hour-long effort, but she couldn't just go back to normal, everyday Fleur. No, she was still numb from the overwhelming announcements, the truck load of headshots, the names that jumbled together in her brain like tiles on an upturned Scrabble board.
"Fleur?" Alex shook her older sister's shoulder. "Are you alright?"
Fleur shook her head to clear her mind. "Yes, sorry. I think I just… I should probably go study the Selected and their files. You know, to prepare…" She let her voice drift off, still lost in her own head.
"If you're sure…" Alex seemed disbelieving, but was never one to pry about these things. She left quietly, but Fleur could hear her high heels skipping down the hallway once she was out of sight.
The princess walked aimlessly around the palace until her feet cried for rest, her head in the clouds and her feet on the cold marble floors. When she came crashing back down to reality, she found herself in the dimly-lit hospital wing and instantly walked over to her sister's private room.
The room was large, about the size of one of the guest bedrooms that the Selected would soon inhabit. It starkly contrasted the outside hospital wing, which was dark and melancholy, with its slew of string lights and decorative candles. Aside from the lighting, however, Blair's chambers were bare of any decoration. It's only temporary, she'd say, so what's the point of decoration?
"You saw the Report?" Fleur nervously approached her sister's bed, wringing her hands behind her back. It was a nervous tic that she couldn't quite shake, but, thankfully, the Queen wasn't here to scold her. It was only Blair, and Blair meant safety.
"Of course. How could I miss my sister's Selection announcement?" The ailing princess let out a shaky laugh that sounded more like a wheeze. Fleur felt a pang in her heart and tried to muster up an unconvincing smile.
"It's never going to be my Selection. Nor do I want it to be. This was supposed to be yours." She gestured with her hands at nothing in particular. She dropped them down to her sides. "Hell, I don't know the first thing about being desirable!" she exclaimed. Though her words were serious, Blair let out a chuckle.
"Relax, Fleur. Why don't we start out by just going over the files?" She weakly waved around a thick stack of manila folders.
"How did you get that?" Fleur whispered. Those files were confidential. If their mother found out Blair had gotten ahold of them…
But Fleur lost the battle to her curiosity. She inched closer, peering at the files.
"The hospital staff are too worried about losing their jobs to refuse an order from a princess," Blair said with a devilish grin. Together, the twin princesses flipped through the files one-by-one.
"Ooh, he's cute." Blair pointed to a glossy photo of a man with light brown skin, black hair, and eyes to match. Fleur allowed herself one second to ogle at the flattering headshot and then turned away.
"Blair," she said with a chastising tone.
The older twin flipped to another page. "Look, Fleur, this one's a filmmaker."
"Blair." The reprimanding tone was gone now. Fleur couldn't subdue the anxious beating of her heart in her throat.
"The Bonita guy is cute, too."
"Blair!"
"What?" Blair turned to look at her sister. With one look, she understood. "Fleur, you're better off learning about these guys instead of driving yourself mad with guilt and anxiety and whatever-the-heck until they arrive." Fleur bit the inside of her cheek. Her sister knew her too well. Blair softened her tone seeing her sister's furrowed brows. "Look. I know you, Fleur, and you know me. It's not your fault I can't hold the Selection. It's not your fault we're on the brink of war with the French. But it will be your fault if this Selection fails because of your…"
"Antisocial tendencies? Yeah. I get what you mean," Fleur finished with a huff. Blair giggled.
"That's one way to put it, I guess. Point being that you should approach this Selection with an open mind. For you, for me, and for Illéa. Okay?"
"Okay," Fleur sighed. Blair raised an eyebrow and held up her pinkie finger.
"Pinkie swear?"
Fleur groaned. "Seriously, Blair?"
"Oh, just appease me." They hooked pinkies and smiled at each other.
Fleur glanced at the clock on the wall. "Shoot. I should go before Mother comes and yells at me." She rose from the edge of Blair's bed to leave.
"Don't even think about leaving these files behind!" Blair hollered after her. Fleur groaned and turned back, unable to stop a smile from forming on her lips.
How she would miss this joy in the weeks to come.
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A/N:
Hey, it's been a minute, hasn't it? Sorry about that, I'm super busy with school but also with procrastinating, soo…
But it's up now! I told you guys on Discord that I'd post this chapter before the third chapter, didn't I? ;)
Thanks to Millyna for Silas, and thanks to the Discord group for motivating (and sometimes threatening me) to finish the chapter. :) Feel free to join the chat if you haven't already! Link is on Millyna's profile.
-Cel