Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

"You know why," Anatoly said, his gaze dropping down to his knees. "For Florence."

He had been so sure that decision was the right one. If there was any chance her father was alive, then he didn't want to be the one responsible for keeping her from him. He would lose, she would see her beloved father and her happiness was worth any number of chess games.

But he hadn't known the things he knew now, he hadn't seen the depths of Walter and Molokov's treachery. If he were asked to make this decision again... he wasn't sure what he would do.

"No one came and told me about your King's Indian Defense, though. Perhaps that might have made a difference." He was only joking. Mostly.