The others’ falseness is the clue.
I read it twice just to make sure I had all the words right. But there was no mistaking the verse—it was a riddle.
There is just one way through.That could have only one meaning: Just one of the doors was the correct choice. I reexamined the symbols etched into each door. The Relic symbols at the knobs must identify each door: circle, blade, crown, sun. The marking above must be hints to which door was correct.
I repeated the second half of the verse.Only one of these doors has a truth to be told.Only one of the doors was giving the correct clue; the others were lying. I ran through the clues again. The first door hinted the correct doors were two and three. Two hinted at one and four. Three’s hint was … itself. And the fourth door indicated it was any doorbutitself.
Slowly, my hand strayed toward the third door—the crown door. A crown at the knob. A crown on its face. This was the Head Ordeal, after all. It made so much sense. But I forced myself to think it over just a moment longer. If I was wrong, this would be the first and last Ordeal. The sudden end to my nonexistent rule as Amber Empress.
I couldn’t afford to be wrong. I had to do this the right way. And that meant going with my wit instead of my gut.
Four doors. Three lies. One truth. There was no way to be sure if any door was lying or telling the truth. Which meant the only way to solve this was to work backward from each possible correct answer.
My breath carved out a space between my clenching ribs, and started with the first door. If that were the correct path, then both two and four would have to be telling the truth. Which was impossible.
My chest loosened.I could do this.
Door two. If that were the correct path, then both one and four would have to be true. Also impossible.
My heart vaulted, and I crept toward the third door—the crown door. Yet again, I reached for its tempting symbol, but I knew it was meant to fool, to foil. When I looked over the doors, yet again, I saw that crown symbol marked on door one, door four, and, of course, door three. Which meant that if this were the correct door, all three would be telling the truth.
My hand fell to my side. Fevered excitement pulsed within me. If door one, two, and three were all impossible, then the only one that remained was …
I closed my eyes, hard, and ran through the logic once again. I couldn’t afford to be wrong.
Swiftly, before I could change my mind, I chose the fourth door. My fingers brushed the spoked sun, its contours familiar in their inverse. With a click and a groan, the door swung upon onto another narrow passageway curving away into the glow.
Relief turned my bones to liquid. I shoved my way into a corridor. The door’s edges glowed faintly for a moment, then smoothed away into the glow of the kembric slabs behind me. I shuddered, and turned my gaze forward.
I followed the passageway until it abruptly split in two. I looked around for a clue. Nothing.
I cast my mind back to the handful of times I’d stumbled my way through the hedge labyrinth in Coeur d’Or’s manicured gardens. It had been more trysting site than intellectual challenge, but Thibo had been fond of the privacy behind its high green walls. I’d been amazed when he’d easily found his way to the sparkling fountain at its heart. He’d laughed at my surprise.
Follow the left-hand wall until you find your way, he’d explained. It might take you forever, but you’ll get through eventually. And once you know, you know.
I didn’t have time foreventually.But it wasn’t bad advice. Each path in a maze had only two outcomes—correct and incorrect. And both gave me the information I needed.
I chose the left path at random, and dashed down it as quickly as I could.
Left.
Right.
Dead end.
I turned on my heel and ran back the way I’d come. When I reached the original intersection, I paused. I needed a way to mark the path, to ensure I didn’t go wandering in circles. But I hadn’t brought anything with me, no ink or paint or—
I might not have ink, but I had something better—mylegacy. I fumbled over images and symbols, before finally settling on the only thing that might show up against the incessant shine of the maze:Duskland shadow. I threw a scrap of midnight against the floor.
This way, it said.Remember you went this way.
I left it with a scrap of attention—intention—scraped from my soul, and prayed to the Scion it would stay after I’d gone. I took off along the other path.
The next intersection split into three hallways. Another plaque rested at its nexus, with another riddle. Irritation bloomed around my heart, but I quelled my anxious desire for speed and read the words as quickly as I could.
The Sun must now darken,
The Moon must not shine her light,
