She picked up the white queen and studied it. If she were playing chess—but she wasn’t. In her game, there was only one way to win. The board must be cleared, with one queen standing at the end.
Her.
She picked up the black queen and tapped it against white. Then dropped them on the board.
A gray queen? No. She’d hidden who she was, what she was, for all of her life. Had tried so hard to fit in with bitter, jealous women’s group after bitter, jealous women’s group. Well no more. Forget black, white and gray.
She’d be the red queen. It was appropriate. She’d be riding into her kingdom on a sea of blood…
“Oh there you are, my dear,” Harold said, dropping his sadly weak chin to look at her over his glasses.
She turned toward the doorway where he hovered, uncertain of his welcome.
Not t
