Chapter 470

[ 1,043 words ]

[Meredith].

Dennis’s announcement for the last game was followed up by the warriors coming to clear the training grounds.

Next, black tiles were arranged in a seven-by-seven diamond that shimmered beneath the late sunlight, each tile carved with faint runes.

From above, the board formed an obsidian star—beautiful, ominous, and strangely alive.

We gathered around the table.

Dennis clapped his hands once. “Alright. The final game is Obsidian Path. It requires strategy, intuition, and nerve. Perfect for ending the day.”

Everyone seemed eager.

Then, Dennis tapped the board with two fingers.

“The objective is to reach the centre tile. On your turn, you may move your token one square or place a trap to block someone’s route.”

Next, he lifted a small black tile edged with sharp silver markings. “Step on a trap, and you lose a turn.”

Dennis continued, “Last thing… traps stay where they are. Once placed, they are permanent.” Then he looked between us all. “Everyone understands?”

We nodded.

Wanda stood across from me. Her face was now arranged into a pleasant, unreadable calm.

She even smiled at me. And that alone set my instincts on edge.

Draven stood slightly behind my right shoulder, his hands loosely folded. I felt the warmth of his presence like a shield pressed to my spine.

Dennis announced that we pair up. But before I could turn to Draven, he let me know that I was not allowed to play against Draven this time, so Wanda happily turned to me.

I bet she had been waiting for this opportunity, more so when she learned that we would play last.

“Remember,” Dennis said, “this game is about reading each other. Predicting each other. Outsmarting each other.”

Then his grin flicked toward Wanda and me. “So, I’m expecting fireworks.”

Wanda’s smile remained perfectly serene. Mine didn’t change either.

—

Minutes later, Wanda and I finally stepped onto the board.

Our wolf tokens were placed at opposite ends—hers was obsidian black, while mine was silver with a faint lilac sheen.

Then Dennis raised a wooden baton. “Begin.”

Wanda moved first, tapping a central tile. I studied her posture, her eyes, her breath, but she gave away nothing.

Her composure was impeccable—elegant, steadfast, like a woman raised in discipline and politics.

So, I placed my first trap tile quietly, shaping the board in the opposite direction of hers. I wasn’t trying to fight her yet. I was rearranging the field.

Jeffery murmured thoughtfully from the sidelines, clearly impressed. While Oscar, who rarely complimented anyone, nodded once. “Interesting start.”

Wanda’s eyes flicked to him with polite acknowledgement before returning to me, still smiling calmly.

But when she placed her next tile, her wrist stiffened for half a second—a tiny crack in the mask. She was playing aggressively yet trying to appear relaxed.

I adjusted my path accordingly.

Wanda subtly guided her traps toward the centre, hemming me in. That was a sophisticated tactic, one that required patience and foresight.

Dennis murmured approvingly. “Someone’s confident.”

Wanda didn’t react. She simply placed her next piece, graceful as poured silk.

I could respect that. But I wasn’t going to lose.

I moved my token diagonally, diverting towards the outer arc—a feint. One that forced her next move into a predictable corner.

I could almost feel Oscar’s attention sharpening. He was analyzing me now, not the board.

Next, Wanda placed a trap to block what she thought was my intended path. That was a smart move, but incorrect.

I had already rerouted myself two turns earlier. And she hadn’t noticed. But by the time she realized the mistake, it was already too late.

Her own trap grid boxed her in, gently, subtly, but undeniably restricting her wolf token’s next legal move. Her lashes lowered for a single blink.

I couldn’t sense any atom of panic or anger or frustration from her aside from the measured breath she released.

But the tightening of her fingers around her last tile told me everything.

Dennis stepped forward. “Final moves now,” he announced.

Wanda placed her tile with exquisite poise, but it was a dead play—just a formality.

I stepped my token onto the centre diamond—the winning star, with quiet certainty.

“And the winner is,” Dennis declared. “Luna Meredith.”

Almost immediately, applause erupted.

Oscar actually smiled faintly, but it was real. “That was… skillful.”

Jeffery nodded once with a soldier’s respect.

Draven’s pride rolled down the bond like warm thunder, his hand brushing my lower back.

But contrary to my expectation of Wanda, she did not scowl. Her facial expression did not falter, not even a blink was seen.

Instead, she smiled—a slow, elegant, perfectly composed smile. And she clapped.

“Beautifully played, Luna Meredith,” she said gently. “Your strategy was impressive.”

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe because her voice carried no malice. There was no strain or hint of jealousy.

It was diplomacy at its finest, the kind of poise only someone raised in power could wield.

But in the split second before she lowered her eyes, I caught a sharpness—something calculated, flickering beneath the calm.

I dipped my head politely. “Thank you, Miss Fellowes.”

But inside, my instincts whispered. ” This isn’t peace. ” And that unnerved me more than all her past hostility combined.

—

The late afternoon sun softened into gold as we all left the training grounds. And the excitement of competition gradually settled into a quieter, contented energy among the group.

Levi and Oscar walked ahead, discussing something about the old sparring pits near the northern woods. Vivian trailed lightly beside them, her laughter gentle.

Jeffery stayed near Draven, speaking in low, clipped tones about patrol rotations.

And Dennis, as usual, was trying to convince everyone he hadn’t actually been the worst at knife-throwing.

We moved together through the Oatrun estate grounds, following the stone path that wound past a few open fields, tall pines, and the long shadow of the training hall. It felt calm, almost pleasant.

But I didn’t miss how Wanda kept a graceful, measured distance from me.

Unlike other times, she didn’t approach me or send a glare. Instead, she acted perfectly normal. Polished. Controlled, but too controlled.

“This has to be a new tactic, ” I thought quietly. And that made her more dangerous.

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