Glorious Rivals(23)

Upon adding their names to the ledger, they’d been given a charm bracelet and a charm. But what if neither of those things was the next clue?

“The water.” Rohan crouched next to the compartment from which he’d retrieved the bracelet and the charm. “There’s a reason for it.” He closed his eyes and breathed in. The smell was faint, but it was there. “This isn’t water.”

He opened his eyes in time to see Savannah crouch beside him.

“I am splendid, am I not?” Rohan said.

“You don’t want me to answer that,” Savannah told him. Her lips curved as she dropped her key into the compartment. Immediately, the liquid inside bubbled and began to shift colors.

“A chemical reaction,” Rohan noted. He gave it a full minute, then thrust his hand down into the liquid, locking his fingers around Savannah’s key and pulling it out. Certain letters now jumped out of the phrase that had been engraved on the front of the key, nearly luminescent.

EVERY STORY HAS ITS BEGINNING…

Rohan turned the key over to see one more luminescent letter.

TAKE ONLY YOUR OWN KEY.

Rohan turned the key back and forth in his hand, focused on the letters.

V

I

I

I

L

Adrenaline was an old friend of Rohan’s—and so was victory. “Fair warning, love, I’m about to become insufferable.”

“You’re already insufferable,” Savannah said. Rohan could feel her presence beside him, feel the moonlight shining down on them both like warmth on his skin.

Savannah not-so-gently grabbed Rohan’s jaw, angling his face toward hers. “Tell me, British, why are you about to become even more insufferable than usual?”

“Because I know exactly what a V, three I’s, and an L spell.” Rohan let that sink in, and then he continued, “A finite number of answers. I know where we’re going next.” He brought his lips within a centimeter of Savannah’s, and this time, his smile was downright wicked. “Do you?”

Chapter 22

GIGI

No matter what Gigi said or how she prodded at Slate, he wouldn’t tell her whether Savannah was Eve’s player in the Grandest Game. Gigi’s mind churned with every attempt to get an answer out of him, because the only way she could imagine her take-no-prisoners, make-no-errors twin sister in league with anyone was if Savannah knew.

Gigi’s twin didn’t take orders, not even Grayson’s, and Gigi was pretty sure that Grayson could order a solid brick wall to crumble and sprout daisies and it would comply.

“What did Eve tell Savannah?” Gigi demanded, her voice hoarse from talking and talking and talking—with no reply. She stopped beating around the bush. “That our father is dead?” Gigi put a little more pep in her voice. “That he was a murderer? That he died trying to kill Avery Grambs?”

She’d never said any of that out loud before, and the moment she did, THE SECRET was just a secret. I wanted to keep it. Gigi couldn’t fight the thought—or the tears pricking her eyes. I wanted to be the one who protected Savannah for once, instead of the other way around.

Savannah, who’d been their father’s favorite.

Savannah, who did not believe in forgiveness.

Savannah, whom Gigi loved more than anyone else in the world.

“For what it’s worth, I advised against all this.” Slate had retreated far enough into the shadows that Gigi wasn’t even sure where he was standing—or if he was standing. All she knew was that he’d finally spoken, and his words were confirmation enough.

Savannah knows. Gigi pulled her knees to her chest. For as long as she could remember, her specialty had been choosing happiness, choosing to smile even when everything was wrong. She’d been a happy baby, a happy little girl, happy even when she wasn’t.

“Did Eve lie to her?” Gigi’s voice was small. She’d thought, she’d really thought, that she’d been the one pulling back from Savannah these past months and that the rest of it was just distance. Savannah was in college. Gigi wasn’t. Savannah was moving on with her life.

Gigi wasn’t.

Slate’s voice came to her again through darkness, gravelly, quiet, and sure. “There’s nothing you can do, either way.”

You want to bet? Gigi thought. This interrogation was over. She was about eighty percent sure she’d pinpointed his location, her head injury only hurt a little, and there was officially no time for a flying tackle like the present. But before Gigi could pounce, there was a buzzing sound. It took her a moment to realize that it was Slate’s phone.

The next thing she knew, there was another sound. A door, opening. Gigi leapt for it—but not fast enough. By the time she landed, Slate was on the other side, and the door was closed.

There was another sound: a key turning in a lock.

Setting aside any emotional devastation she may or may not have been feeling about Savannah, Gigi pressed her ear to the crack between the frame and the door.

“Yeah?” That was apparently how Slate believed a person should answer the phone. There was a pause and then: “No, you’ve talked about phone manners. I’ve tuned you out. What do you need?”

Eve? Gigi wondered.

On the other side of the door, Slate spoke again. “No updates.” Another pause. “What makes you think I’m not?”