20
Firian
“That’s not…” Firian’s voice faded as he realized the move had been a fair one.
Bard c****d his head, a grin tugging at his lips as he tried not to gloat. He’d rubbed the back of his head with his knuckles so often when he thought about his next moves that his hair looked particularly impish.
Observing the wooden Indisfate board on the desk, Firian sucked his teeth. He drummed his fingers once against the desk and sighed. “Fine!”
“Another game?” Bard started settling the pieces back in their original places on the board.
Firian narrowed his eyes. Bard had won two in a row. He would hate for Bard to win every single game. This time, he’d been watching closely. If they played another, Firian could best him. “Set it up.”
Even without windows, Firian could tell the sun was set
