Glorious Rivals(56)

“You hardly invented keys,” Jameson retorted, but Rohan had an unerring sense for when he’d gotten to another person. He was fairly certain that until he’d pointed it out, Jameson very likely had not noticed how much of this game could be traced back to the Mercy, to Rohan.

“You have a secret,” Rohan reiterated, letting his upper-crust accent shift to something with a bit more force, “and something has you shaken.” Rohan used his discarded shirt to wipe sweat from his face and neck, his eyes never leaving Jameson’s. “If you decide you require actual assistance with either of those things once the game is done—there is some possibility that I can be bought.”

And there it was: A net. A backup plan. An offer from one gentleman to another.

“You need money,” Jameson flatly. He did not seem inclined to take Rohan up on his offer. Yet.

“I do,” Rohan confirmed, “and you are running a race against a ticking clock, because by the time this game is over, by the time I win—I won’t.”

Chapter 48

ROHAN

Armed with the solution to the music box puzzle and bathed in the familiar feeling of having begun to tug certain strings just so, Rohan decided it was time to check in on Savannah—not that she would thank him for it.

But then, she didn’t need to know.

Rohan exited the interior of the yacht, made his way to the starboard side of the ship, and began scaling the outside, stopping only when he reached the very top. Standing on the highest point of the ship, he scanned his surroundings, not caring that it was night. Any light was enough for someone who had spent as much time in darkness as Rohan had.

And Savannah glowed.

Rohan spotted her at the front of the ship, sitting on the helipad, her legs dangling over the edge. She wasn’t alone. Well done, love. Rohan began the climb down. He might have signed off on Savannah’s plan to offer up her fungible loyalty to Brady Daniels to wring whatever use out of him they could, but Rohan had never promised to trust her.

Trusting other people was always a mistake.

In less than a minute, Rohan had made his way down the side of the yacht and past the lowest deck. As a child, there had been days when practicing his grip had made the muscles in Rohan’s fingers and palms cramp so badly that his hands had turned to claws. But nowadays, he could climb anything—vertical or otherwise.

Using raised embellishments on the side of the yacht for holds, Rohan moved swiftly. Close enough to the ocean that he could feel the spray of every individual wave, he took himself to the place in his mind that was beyond pain, beyond thinking or feeling.

He stopped moving only when he was close enough to hear.

“—double-cross your current partner?” Brady Daniels had a deep voice, pleasant enough.

Savannah’s, in contrast, was high and clear, cutting through the air like a diamond-studded blade. “Partner is an overstatement. Rohan knows quite well that our interests only align to a point.”

Rohan smiled. There you are, winter girl.

“And that point is…，” Brady prompted.

“A matter of some internal debate. At this juncture, I could be persuaded of many things, and I have to say, Mr. Daniels, that you strike me as the debate team type.”

“It’s the glasses,” Brady replied.

Rohan wondered if Brady was peering at Savannah through those glasses, but from this angle, he couldn’t see a thing, could only hear them.

“On day one of this competition,” Brady commented mildly, “you told your sister that she couldn’t trust anyone in this game. You warned Gigi that I wasn’t her friend.”

“Was I wrong?”

“You were not.” Brady Daniels left it at that.

Rohan wondered what the scholar’s read on Savannah Grayson was. Obviously, he’d be suspicious of her, but did he have any idea what she was truly capable of?

Rohan hadn’t—at first. Make your move, Savvy, he thought. Any time now, love.

“Gigi didn’t know on day one that you were playing this game for Calla.” Savannah gave that name its due. “Who was she to you?”

“Someone I knew,” Brady replied quietly, “once upon a time.”

“Are you a fan of fairy tales, Mr. Daniels?”

“A few of them.” Brady Daniels paused in a way that made Rohan think he was studying Savannah like a handwritten letter or a broken clay pot or a piece of priceless art. “Les Fées, for example.”

“The Fairies,” Savannah translated.

“You speak French.”

“Was that a question?” Savannah said archly.

“It was not. Les Fées is a tale sometimes known as Diamonds and Toads. Are you familiar with the story, Savannah?”

“Pretend,” Savannah replied, “that I am not.”

She didn’t have it in her to admit to not knowing something, and if she did know—well, there were benefits to getting an opponent talking. I see you, winter girl.

“It’s a story of two sisters,” Brady said. “One kind, one unkind.”

Rather brutal. Rohan hadn’t thought the scholar had it in him.

“Do go on,” Savannah said.

“The younger sister—the kind one—offers a poor old woman a drink, and in return, the kind sister is given a magical blessing. Every time she speaks, diamonds and jewels fall from her lips like drops of rain from the sky.”