That day afterSparring. Josh, walking toward her while she held her head in her hands. I’d wanted to scream, but she’d distracted me, by losing control and breaking the mirror.
Every time I saw her after, she’d shielded her face. Facing away from me. Her hair covering it in Camelot Courtyard. And the sweatband she’d worn during the Obstacle Course.
She’d hidden it.
The need to find out what made her bang her head so forcefully into the glass almost had me chasing after her.
But whatever had happened, if it wasn’t a trick or a game, girl talk wouldn’t help Vivian. It wouldn’t help any of us.
I raced back to the party, planning to make one final loop before I went to the tunnels.
Ready to end this for good.
Thirty minutes later, I stood outside, staring at the front of the Round Tableau.Alone.
I scanned the training schedule I’d grabbed from my room, along with my lighter and the map of Camelot Court.Using the black light hadn’t revealed anything else, but I thought it best to bring everything. I’d tucked the lockbox into my crossbody next to my inhaler and secured it to my back.
As I stared at the entrance to where my journey began, wind swept my hair into my face. I turned into it to pull my hair back, securing the flyaway strands into a hasty ponytail.
When I looked up, the lemon tree Landon and I stood beneath, the one I’d climbed to escape Brutus, stared back at me. I raced toward it, remembering my dad’s old trick for making invisible ink appear.
Just a dash of lemon and a lighter. That’s all you need.
My dad’s voice filtered through my head as I plucked a lemon off the tree, and I paused to stare out over the lake.
After circling the party twice, I sent Gia and the guys a message. I wished I’d found one of them before racing here, but I’d grabbed a golf cart from the garage and sped over before I lost my nerve.
Despite what she’d said, Vivian could be here.One of the other girls could’ve figured out the clue, too.
I couldn’t risk waiting.
Returning to the Round Tableau, I took a deep breath.
And I climbed the steps.
As I entered, memories of Ben hit sharply.
My heartbeat raced and sweat slicked my palms as I walked through the threshold he’d dragged me over. Remembering how I’d gone limp. Stopped fighting.Fawned.
Desperate to get away.
My chest heaved as I forced myself to breathe.
“He’s dead.” The words echoed in the empty foyer, and I said them again. “He’s dead.”
At a table off to the side, I pulled out the map and other clues I hadn’t used the lemon juice and lighter on.
Using my nails to dig into the lemon rind, I pierced it and peeled it back. I pulled up the edge of my shirt, squeezed the lemon juice onto it, and used the wet fabric to dab the schedule, the map, cypher, riddle, and diary pages.
I pulled out my trusty lighter and clicked it on, holding it up to the pages and waiting to see if anything happened.
Nothing appeared on the riddle, so I pushed it aside. Then the diary pages, and finally the cypher.
Holding the flame beneath the map, my journey came full circle as I stared at the paper.
Swirling lines appeared on the map, matching the symbol in the back of the journal. They appeared slowly, and looked like letters, but I couldn’t recognize the word.
In tiny script, one word appeared on the map by a small spot set deep in the woods. I remembered the word from Arthurian lore, where King Arthur returned the sword.
