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“You will, indeed.” He nods, his own voice equally strained but determined, his ocean blue eyes alight with an unspoken promise.

With a final, lingering glance, heavy with all the emotions we find impossible to voice, we reluctantly part.

Every step away from each other is weighted not just with the enormity of the challenge before us, but also the fervent, silent hope for the future we dream of building together.

43

As Arthur exits the stage, the room immediately bursts back to life, filled with the sounds of loud music and the lively echo of laughter.

My eyes sweep the crowd, landing on Killian and Maisie, who are tangled in each other in an intimate dance. Not far from them, Roxane moves in rhythm with Hawke, the instructor who introduced me to the concept of the fourth-dimensional road on my first day here when he set me before an Albert Einstein hologram, which painstakingly outlined a theory that, at the time, sailed right over my head.

Thinking it’s probably as good a time as any to slip away, I’m edging closer to the door when my departure is stopped by a decisive hand encircling my wrist. I know without looking exactly who it is.

Elodie.

Turning, I see my guess is confirmed.

“What’s the rush, Nat?” Her gaze is probing, not missing a thing.

Nat.The name I used to go by back when I was another girl, living another life. I can’t help but wonder if it was an attempt to remind me of my former diminished self, or perhaps a nod to the friendship we shared long before I even knew of a mysterious academy called Gray Wolf. With Elodie, you never know.

“Just…feeling a bit tired,” I say, feigning a yawn. Though the skepticism in her sharp, knowing eyes tells me she’s far from convinced.

“Nonsense,” she counters, reaching toward a nearby table laden with champagne flutes. She selects one for herself and hands another to me. “What shall we toast to?” She grips the stem of her glass in anticipation.

I cast a quick glance around, needing a moment to decide. Returning to her, I say, “To new adventures.”

Her eyes search mine, a slight smile playing at her lips. “To new adventures with old friends,” she amends, raising her glass to meet mine in a toast.

As the champagne’s effervescence tickles my throat, my attention is drawn to the golden serpent pendant nestled against her chest. It strikes me as odd that I never noticed it back when she went to my school, but here, it’s rare that I see her without it.

Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field…

The unexpected thought, a Bible verse, echoes through my head. As I gaze at Elodie standing before me—the human embodiment of cunning—a cold shudder travels through me.

Did she purposely sabotage my mask in an attempt to strand me in 1745 Versailles?

Is she the one who sent the diamond clip to Mason that ended up landing him here?

Did she really sleep with King Henry VIII?

Is there truth in anything she’s ever told me, or is it all just an elaborate work of fiction?

This beautiful, calculating, unknowable girl has been both ally and obstacle in ways I could never have foreseen. While part of me desperately hopes this marks the end of our intertwined story, there’s another, deeper layer of my being that acknowledges the void her absence will create.

Wherever we go from here, one thing is sure: I really do hope she finds whatever it is she’s looking for.

Draining my drink, I turn to her and offer a simple, “Good night, Elodie.”

With her blue eyes flashing on mine, she leans in and draws me into an unexpected hug. Her voice softly whispers, “May fortune smile upon you, Natasha.”

As I make my leave, I’m acutely aware of the heat of her gaze following me all the way to the door.

44

I wake before dawn.

Well before my slab sounds its chime for Arthur’s daily dose of inspiration. Since this is the last of his quotes I’m ever likely to read, I give it my full attention.