Page 124 of Glorious Rivals

Lyra thought about the calla she’d found near the helipad, the one that Eve had insisted she did not send.She thought about hundreds of calla lilies, washing onto the shore.And then she thought about the one her father had given her.

She thought about her father’s blood—the feel of it on her feet, thesmellof it.

Lyra leaned forward, her forearms on the conference table.“You called the Watcher theLily.And theOmegais the Hand.What exactly does that second one mean?”

Odette said nothing, but Grayson filled in the blanks.“Omega,” he said, “is the end.”

The end.For the first time, Lyra wondered if her father had killed himself to prevent someone else from doing the job for him.A woman in black.The Omega.The end.The Hand.

A Hawthorne did this.

Lyra thought about a woman, calling her a poor thing.You should not be here.But who is to say that you were?

“What about the third?”Lyra said.“The Monoceros.”TheOmega—the Hand—had been hiding her from someone, and Odette had already been clear: These women answered to no one.

Again, Lyra’s question received no reply, and again, Grayson filled in the blanks.“Monoceros,” he said.“It’s a mythical creature and a constellation and, it seems, the Judge.”He looked back down to the chips.“Calla Thorp.Alice Hawthorne.Who’s the third?”

“If I knew that,” Odette replied, “I suspect that I would not have received awarningall those years ago.”

“A warning,” Lyra repeated.“A calla lily.”She glanced at Grayson.

“What does it mean,” he said, “if there are hundreds of them?Calla lilies.”

This time, Odette’s silence was not measured in seconds.Neither Lyra nor Grayson moved.Neither said a word.

“It means…” Odette reached for her pin and used it to fix her long hair back once more.“That something very big is about to happen.”

Epilogue

AVERY

Iwoke up in a white room.White ceiling.White floors.White walls.The room had no windows.It had no doors.My first thought was of Jameson.

My second was of Alice.

And my third was that the white room wasn’t just white.Etched into every surface, there were indentions—twisting, turning lines that connected just so.

It took me longer than it should have to realize what I was looking at.This room had no windows.It had no doors.And built into the walls and ceiling and floor, there was a very complicated maze.