Valerie smiled softly. Too softy like she knew Adrienne was hiding something. Which she was. Adrienne both hated and loved that Valerie could read her like that. “Of course. Whatever happens, happens.”
There was a sudden throat clear, then Isla and Safiya walked toward them, looking like someone had died. Isla held up another fucking letter and Adrienne knew why. She barely let out a sigh and a shake of her head before Isla slipped out the paper and started reading out loud. “One Sending remains. Two pairs stand at the edge of what comes next. Tomorrow the Final Council will ask, and you will answer. Each question will be a verdict. Sinner or Saint.”
When Isla finished, she slid the paper back into the envelope, turned toward the fire pit, and tossed the whole thing into the heart of the flames. They all watched it catch light, flare up, and crumble into ash. “I guess tonight is our last night out here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Valerie wasn’t prepared for just how different this season’s Sending was going to be from the last time she’d played. Not only had production completely rewritten the rulebook on this one by combining two Sendings into one, but the set design was on an entirely different level. It was just like Elise to one-up the previous seasons.
The bone-white cliffside was layered with thousands of white oleander and silver-leafed olive branches that had been woven into massive, cascading garlands over the stones. Sprinkled among them were probably a hundred soft grey urns exploding with pink and fuchsia bougainvillea. Valerie counted fifty hand-blown hurricane lamps that turned the jasmine-carpeted floor into a buttery dreamscape, while tiny, warm-white fairy lights twinkled like stars over their heads. Behind the pedestal was a brazier crackling with the smell of dried lavender and cedarwood. There were only two cups on the pedestal today.
The Final Council was sitting on large stone benches scattered with plush ivory linen cushions, while the final four sat opposite them in low-slung chairs made of bleached driftwood and woven canvas. Unlike some previous years, where the Final Council was made up of the last six contestants voted out of the game, every player who had left the island was back for Judgment Day.
Production had also gone entirely electronic this season. There were giant, high-definition monitors hanging between the olive trees. Each one was dark for now, waiting to patch in the loved ones of the final two contestants.
When Valerie had first spotted them, she’d experienced a spike of anxiety in her stomach. What if Hattie and Mick can’t figure out how to use the laptop? Valerie had not only bought a brand new MacBook for two of them before she’d left, but she’d also paid Stuart, who owned the local IT shop on Main Street, to go over to her dad’s house to set the entire thing up on their dining table. Mick still used an old Nokia, and even before Hattie got sick, she barely used a cellphone. Her parents were both technologically hopeless.
“Adrienne,” Niko said, shifting forward in her seat, snatching Valerie’s attention back to where they were and what they were doing.
The newly introduced ‘Hot Seat’ segment had started twenty minutes ago. Vivian had explained it as the Ultimate Sinners vs. Saints cross-examination. So far Eden had ruthlessly interrogated Isla regarding the secret advantage and the box of Kourabiedes that she believed Isla had hijacked from Sienna and taken over all decisions about it. Isla had, of course, defended herself as a true Sinner and repeat player would do. Then Stevie had laid into Safiya, calling her undeserving of being in the final four because she’d just floated along, and Valerie had been forced to atone for her sins from the last game. She’d told them the truth as plainly as she could: she hadn’t stepped down because she’d stopped fighting. Her body had moved before her mind could catch it. She’d been exhausted, terrified about her mother, and for one impossible second, she had seen Hattie standing there on that beach. But none of that had anything to do with her game this season. And Adrienne had received the brunt of several accusations from the Final Council. Valerie’s heart had physically hurt for Adrienne.
It was now Niko’s turn to cock the arrow. “I know I’ve brought this up before and it quite possibly was my demise, but it feels right to bring it up again.”
Adrienne nodded, as she had expected it. Then again, so did Valerie. So did everyone else, apparently, because no one looked even a bit surprised.
Niko rested her interlaced fingers on her bare knees. She was dressed in a leather miniskirt, high-neck ribbed crop top, and chunky lug-sole combat boots. Her signature shaggy wolf fell past her shoulder like a wild, tousled mane. “We were all honest about who we are, so why didn’t you grant us that kind of honesty?”
Adrienne took a slow breath and sat up a little straighter. “How much money is in your bank account?” she asked, her voice as cool and calm as Sitka Sound.
Niko looked completely taken aback. In fact, she actually recoiled, sitting back as if the question were a stray dog yapping at her face. “Why would I ever tell you that?”
“Because that’s kind of the same thing, isn’t it?” Adrienne countered. “You wanted me to tell you how much money my family has. When really, it has nothing to do with you. Or anyone else here, for that matter. I came into this game as myself, not on behalf of my family’s legacy.”
Niko’s nostrils flared but she said nothing. Not that anything could be said to salvage her argument, which like the Titanic had sunk to the very bottom of the North Atlantic Ocean. The rest seemed to agree. There were smirks from Eden, Sienna, and Carmen. Even Tamera, whose disdain for Adrienne had been clear as a pane of glass since the beginning, looked impressed.
Maybe this was just what they needed to push them past Isla and Safiya for that ticket to the finals. Maybe Adrienne was going to be the reason Valerie made it all the way to the end.
But that thought, as giddy as it was, birthed something completely hideous. In fact, it was so deeply horrifying that Valerie didn’t want to think about it. What if Adrienne won the whole thing? Could Valerie really keep her promise to Adrienneand not feel a sliver of animosity toward her? Or was Valerie going to become bitter and horrible and destroy all the good between them, all those moments where she thought they could actually be together after this?
“Any other questions?” Vivian asked, already walking toward the pedestal as if she were ready to move things along. Her sun-colored linen dress swished behind her.
But then Sienna raised her left hand, and the light that caught that gigantic stone on her ring finger was so bright it nearly blinded Valerie.
“Sienna,” Vivian said, nodding toward her. “What would you like to ask the final four?”
Sienna turned her attention toward Valerie. “Val,” she said, smiling warmly despite this being an interrogation. Which was either a good thing or a bad thing. “Do you think you have been a bit distracted this season?”
Valerie blinked. Distracted? What kind of question was that?
“Umm,” Valerie started, because how could she possibly reply yes, I’ve been so busy fucking Adrienne in the forest that I forgot I was playingOutlast Her.So she lied. “I came into this game with a clear goal in mind, and so far, every alliance, every challenge, every single move I’ve made has been focused on getting to the final. I don’t think I’ve been more distracted than anyone else.”
Sienna nodded as if she were mulling the answer over and then shifted in her seat. Valerie could feel the makings of another question coming. The hair on the back of her neck was literally standing straight up. “As a fellow Saint, do you think sneaking behind everyone’s back and hooking up with Adrienne is very Saint-like?” Sienna said calmly.
And there it was. The very question Valerie had dreaded. The very question that had the Final Council gasping in their seats.
Suddenly, the cliffs on her left were inching in, and the inky ocean on her right was churning into a furious, foaming washing machine. She had nowhere to go. No hope of being saved. This question was going to be the very reason she didn’t win this season, and she could do nothing about it.
“I’m not judging,” Sienna said smoothly before Valerie could even think up an answer. She eyed Vivian and tossed her a wink. “I, myself, have dabbled in a secret affair. Isla too, in her season. But this season was explicitly branded Sinners vs. Saints. So what I’m actually asking is, if you got to the final two, would you win this game as a Saint or a Sinner?”
