“Or Erika,” I continued, taking a deep breath. “You know who she is?”
He blinked, uncomfortable. “I do. And I’m not trying to mess with either of them.”
“Just being here, you are. And ifanythinghappens to either of them, I’ll hold you responsible. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” he said, crossing his arms in the way that made him resemble my husband—not the politician or the reality star—the version of him that was mine alone.
“Luke.” We turned to find Shawn behind us, his face ashen. “They’re about to start.”
With a bitter laugh, my husband’s ghost was gone. “The errand boy appears…”
“I’m nobody’s errand boy,” Shawn snapped. “I’ve done more—”
“Shawn, don’t.” I took him firmly by the shoulders, steering him back to the Arena. “Wait before following us,” I instructed Barnes. “The cameras.”
“Just when I was itching for a family portrait with your child bride,” he muttered.
Barnes returned shortly after us and marched to his assigned easel for the Trial, Imogen and Erika on either side. As if sensing my concern, he looked up at me and subtly nodded, reaffirming his commitment. Shawn instantly noticed our exchange. “What was that?”
I firmly covered my mic and pulled him close, my patience wearing thin. “Shawn, I’ll only say this once: I’m not running back to the guy who cheated on me for the better part of a decade. Please trust me.”
He shook his head, pupils flitting. “No, of course I trustyou—”
“Quiet on set!” Zara called, the clap of the slate cracking below us.
I instantly hated myself for speaking so sharply and planted a conciliatory kiss on his forehead, though he kept on trembling like a downed power line.
The horn sounded, and the players all shoved off the chain mail hiding their saints. In the span of seconds, Imogen frantically glanced at her first row, then bolted to the climbing wall.
Soon enough, everyone had made multiple trips back and forth except for Fortune, who stayed planted, methodically scouring his easel until half the allotted time was gone. He eventually hauled himself up the wall in two mammoth strokes and took to his workstation, calling for a check mere moments later. I was stunned when Ecklund approved his arrangement of tiles with justified awe, but Fortune only plopped down in response, tree trunk legs dangling off the platform as casually as if he were at the seashore. A photographic memory indeed.
“Fortune, does mine look like yours?” Erika revealed her nearly complete board.
Before he could respond, Ecklund smeared all of Fortune’s tiles dramatically to the ground. “Once a contestant has advanced, theycannothelp.”
Ever unfazed, Fortune still nodded at Erika. They were replicating the same lineup.
“Imogen, match mine!” Erika called, keeping her last tile aloft. She was brilliant. We were unable to help, butshecould assist Imogen as long as she herself hadn’t advanced. Imogen heeded Erika, and I was gutted to realize her board had been a total disaster, so unlike her.
But she wasn’t the only one. Shockingly, Barnes hadn’t solved his puzzle either. He’d just been doing laps, adjusting the occasional tile… As Tati returned for the umpteenth time, I caught Barnes watching Imogen, and my stomach dropped. Would he actually keep his word?
“Cecilia, Valentine…” Erika instructed Imogen, chanting saints’ names like a prayer.
I strained to see Tati’s board, which appeared dangerously similar to Erika’s. Even with Erika’s assistance, Imogen could still end up in last place. As Tati moved a piece—
“Tati, switch those two!” Barnes warned, raising his final piece like Erika did. He was going to saveTatianna? A current of fresh betrayal electrified me, until I remembered my husband simply wasn’t that stupid…
Tati pivoted to Barnes, who whispered something I couldn’t hear. She nodded gratefully, and I understood Imogen wasn’t the one he was sabotaging. Unfortunately,Imogendidn’t know that and had stopped working, her face filled with loathing. “Imogen, ignore them!” I screamed, disregarding all the rules as Ecklund began counting down the final seconds.
“Apollonia, Cyprian…” Erika continued persistently, Imogen’s hands shifting the tiles.
Tati swapped pieces, but it was pointless if Imogen didn’t finish in time. I prayed Barnes hadn’t ruined things all because he couldn’t resist involving himself. “Check!” Tati called.
“Augustine, and John the Baptist!” Erika concluded, she and Imogen both placing their last pieces as the horn came.
Ecklund approached Barnes first. “Barnes is correct!”
And Tati had yet to notice his board was not identical to hers…
