As the icy wind howled outside the grand pavilion, Aiden leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass of crimson wine in one hand while staring at the chessboard before him. The fire from the enchanted brazier cast long shadows across the tent, giving the room a warm yet eerie glow.
Gareth sat across from him, his brow furrowed in frustration. His hand hovered over a knight, hesitating. Every move he made, Aiden had already predicted it. Every strategy he thought of, Aiden countered effortlessly.
The game had been going for twenty minutes, but it was clear—the Von Klassen heir was toying with him.
"You're hesitating," Aiden remarked lazily, taking another sip of his wine. "That's why you're losing."
Gareth gritted his teeth. He refused to let Aiden beat him so easily.
"Aiden, do you always have to be this smug?"
Aiden smirked, resting his chin on his hand.
"If you had even a fraction of my talent, you'd be smug too."
