In the Palace of the Khans by Peter Dickinson

he said. “I’ve got a strong attack on your king here. It’s your move. The first thing you’re going to do is …”
    There was a tap at the door and the rustle of its movement across the carpet. It wasn’t the under-secretary coming to tell Nigel the car was ready. It was the President.
    Nigel rose. Taeela rushed across the room, grabbed his hand and started to pull him towards the board.
    â€œCome! See!” she said. “Nigel is showing to me how I sacrifice my queen!”
    He came and stood, gazing down at the board. Nigel’s throat was taut, his mouth dry. He had to stop his tongue from continually licking his lips.
    â€œYou gave her the black pieces?”
    â€œYes, sir. Uh, she had them already. Uh, I’d forked her knight and rook …”
    He stumbled through to the end of his explanation.
    â€œWhy this position?”
    â€œIt was a game I’d, uh, studied not long ago so I didn’t have to think it out.”
    Another tap on the door and swish of its opening.
    â€œTell the driver to wait,” said the President without looking round. “Very good, Nigel. Continue the demonstration.”
    Nigel managed to take a grip of himself. It was going to be all right. This time, anyway. He turned to the board.
    â€œNow,” he said. “It’s my move. I attack your queen with my bishop. Either you’ll have to move her away or use her to take my bishop, but if you do that I’ll take her back with this pawn. What do you do?”
    â€œI move her … but you say no?”
    â€œLook what happens if you move her. Something like this …”
    Rapidly he shifted the pieces through several moves.
    â€œNow you see, you’ve still got your queen but you’ve lost more pieces than I have and I’m pretty sure to beat you soon. But …”
    He put the pieces back.
    â€œSo I take the bishop, like this, with my queen?”
    â€œAnd I take her with the pawn. You’ve lost her. But look at your rooks.”
    It took her a few seconds to see the point. She picked the front rook up and banged it down in his back rank.
    â€œCheck!” she shouted, and a moment later “Checkmate!”
    â€œA queen sacrifice,” said the President quietly. “Extremely satisfying. Except when it happens to you.”
    â€œYou tell me I am your queen,” said Taeela pertly. “Often you say this. So you sacrifice me, because it is satisfying? You tell me, marry the son of the British Ambassador because it will be good for your stupid dam.”
    â€œYou should not tease your guest like this. It is not manners. Besides, Nigel may have views on the matter.”
    He turned to Nigel and raised his eyebrows.
    â€œEr … well … of course you wouldn’t sacrifice her for anything or anyone,” he said. “Chess is only a game—all you’ve got to do is win. And anyway Fohdrahko wouldn’t approve.”
    â€œThree excellent answers for the price of one,” said the President. “All you have to do is win, so you will sacrifice your best pieces to achieve that. As your father my aim is to secure your happiness and well-being. As President my aim is to secure the happiness and well-being of Dirzhan. These two purposes are not part of the same game. May I never need to choose between them.”
    All the lightness of his tone was gone. For the first time Nigel felt that he had a glimpse of the man behind the mask of power—the man behind the monster behind the mask, if you wanted to look at it that way. Taeela reached up and stroked the back of his hand with her fingertips. He took her hand into his own, squeezed it gently, and let go.
    â€œYou do not choose,” she said. “You ask me, ‘Who do I wish I … wish to marry?’ Then I choose. Am I right?”
    She had dropped her habitual pertness and spoke as if she meant what she said almost as earnestly as her father