She stared down at the bracelet once more, her bottom lip tucked firmly between her teeth. The symbols seemed vaguely familiar, tiny recreations of...yes! That was it.
She raised the bracelet to survey it more closely. The symbols were backwards. Opposing as if a mirror image. It was difficult to decipher staring at it in the form of the bracelet but if she were to...
She whirled around, leaving the window and striding toward the door. Surely there was a mound of dirt she could find in the garden. Lord Ridgewood might very well think her mad, but she might very well figure out what the bracelet was trying to tell them.
She hurried down the stairs and rounded the corner, entering the hallway leading to the garden. Careful so as not to startle him, she eased out the French windows. The cool evening air blew over her, lifting the tendrils of hair tucked behind her ears and sending them scattering about her head.
She smoothed them down and walked toward the viscount.
Ridge looked surprised to see her. “Good evening, India. What brings you out to the gardens?”
“Have you a place where there is a pile of dirt?”
He arched an eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Whatever do you want dirt for?”
She held up the bracelet. “For this.”
He regarded her suspiciously. “Planning to bury it?”
She looked past him, ignoring his question. “Dirt?”
He gestured toward a row of rose bushes at the back of the enclosure.
She nudged past him. “Bring a torch,” she called back. The back of garden wasn’t as well lit as the pathway, and she needed to be able to see clearly.
When she reached the bushes, she knelt down, satisfied to see dirt mounded up around the bases. She cupped handfuls of the dirt and made a pile in front of her.
When she was satisfied with the result, she pressed the bracelet into the dirt. Then she carefully picked it up, careful not to disturb the impression left in the soil.
Ridge made a sound of discovery above her, and she glanced up to see his eyes bright with curiosity.
“What does it say? Brilliant deduction, India. I wouldn’t have considered there was a message.”
Her cheeks warmed at his praise, and she ducked her head guiltily. Her mind raced to come up with a plausible message and also to translate the real message quickly in her head.
“Have you paper and ink?” she asked, trying to buy time.
“Of course. I’ll return in a moment.”
She listened as his boots tapped against the stone walkway, the sound growing fainter as he stepped into the house. She turned her attention back to the impression, committing to memory the wording there.
The way is broad that leads to destruction.
Not at all vague. She shook her head in exasperation.
She frowned again. No it was all backwards. That was the last statement. She refocused on the symbols, and put them in order in her head.
Look to the north, to the great peaks of Orion. In the cradle of the moon lies the doorway. The way is broad that leads to destruction.
“Here you are,” Ridge said.
She jerked her head up in surprise, her heart racing. “T-thank you.”
Her brow furrowed as she turned her attention back to the mound of dirt. What to write down on the paper? She really hadn’t even formulated a sound plan. The events had unraveled at an alarmingly fast rate.
Think, India, think.
They would sail to San Sebastian. That much was known. The clue before her led her north to the isolated country of Castelonia. Could the city be there? In the cradle of the great mountain chain that formed the border between Spain, Castelonia and France?
