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“Nina?” A raspy tone whispered. My eyes snapped to the opening, the towering man bordering the cemetery. Katerina and I stilled in our motions, her head turning away and looking over to the entrance. He swiftly fell out of sight.

“It’s my cousin. I have to go before he reports me missing again,” she said with a chuckle.

“I’ll see you later, then.” Fury caused my clenched jaw. But before I could consider such a sensation, Katerina’s lips caressed my cheek, my skin flushing in response as she quickly left.

* * *

Christopher requested a private meeting in his chamber.

Unlike the left corridor, which had dim lights to showcase the pathway, shadows immersed the right wing. Noah’s and Kaleb’s chambers lay to the right while Christopher to the left, near That Man’s that hadn’t been entered since our mother’s passing.

Our mother’s body was uncovered there. Remnants of that night had been cleaned, but the memory and stench of putrid blood remained behind the door.

Christopher’s bedroom was composed of two floors like mine, though his was utterly swallowed by towers of literature books and scattered pages; it swelled from the first floor to the steps that led to the second. Stacked books obscured the corresponding flight of stairs on each side of his space and revealed a hint of space that I could slither through. The available gap grew finer the closer I ascended to the second floor until boundless books consumed the area around his bed.

A small desk hid in the depths of the second floor, Christopher’s back to me. He didn’t lift his eyes, nor did he halt what he read, but his lips slightly divided, and he commanded, “Sit.” His tone grew softer, unrecognizable from the one I was accustomed to.

I overlooked the thin children’s books that were spread across the mahogany surface, vivid, colorful covers gleaming underneath the low lighting.

He closed the last book and withdrew his glasses with one hand, the other rubbing the bridge of his nose. Straps at the endings of the temples and around his neck held them in place against his chest.

Christopher’s deadpan expression steadily dispersed with each meeting, revealing what tangled his mind.

“What did you uncover? Is it about what mother left behind?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “It seems Mother had an obscure liking for puzzles and riddles.”

He huddled all the books together and retrieved pieces of paper from their dust jackets, words unraveling. He arranged them until the scrawled cursive read cohesively, penned in the same color the notes Christopher and I discovered had been in.

“Do you think Mother wrote this?”

He shook his head. “Her writing was sloppier and rarely this cohesive.”

My focus fell on the words, assessing each line in any possible manner I could to attain a specific significance. “Have you been able to decipher it?”

“No.” A sliver of irritation seeped through.

I waved toward the room that was engulfed by pages and works of literature. “Then what’s with all the books?”

“I read to escape from the bounds of continuous studies. What you see before you are what I relish in, not what I shackle myself to at times like these.”

“Then how can we know what the riddle refers to if you can’t even solve it?” A knock vibrated against the door on the first floor, both of our heads tilting to it.

“It must wait,” Christopher said as he stood. “It slipped my mind that Sonia required my presence to discuss the marriage proposal.”

“Who are you planning on electing?” Christopher didn’t respond as he walked down the steps. Though his chamber was enveloped in darkness, I could sense the hint of light beyond the concealed windows fading.

Sonia bowed as I exited the room and trailed through the corridor until an outline descended the stairs. Kaleb slithered across the foyer and below the main staircase, and though my feet desired to follow, my body continued forward. He had yet to call for me to question my progress with Katerina, an advantage in itself.

Tristan stood in my chamber, still and quiet. Steps echoed beside me and closed the gap between us before I could speak.

“I found the intruder,” he whispered, although we were alone. “They’re on the grounds disguised as a guardian from the CEG.”

“Who is it?”

Tristan’s throat swelled as he said, “Lorenzo Devon, Katerina’s cousin.”

ChapterTwenty-Five