Page 100 of The Grandest Game

“We’re going to have a long talk very soon,” Grayson promised Odette. “An informative one.”

And then his silvery eyes shifted slowly to Lyra. After a long moment, he began to draw. Something about the sound of the charcoal skimming the page made it hard for Lyra to breathe. Each time Grayson looked down at the page, she got a modicum of relief.

And each time he looked up, Lyra felt his gaze as a physical thing.Burned into skin.She thought about dancing, about running, about being fine and not fine, aboutmistakes.

And then Grayson closed a fist around the charcoal, strode toward the scanner, and laid the sketch pad flat on the bed. He scanned his drawing, and there was a ding.

“One down,” Grayson said, his voice almost hoarse. “Two to go.”

Odette arched a brow at Lyra. “Your turn.”

Grayson ripped the drawing he’d made out of the sketchbook, folded it in quarters, and tucked it into his tuxedo jacket. Then he held out the sketch pad to Lyra. Once she’d taken it from his grasp, his fist unfurled, the charcoal flat on his palm.

As Lyra closed her fingers around the charcoal, she knew one thing: Come hell or high water, she wasn’t drawing Grayson Hawthorne. Thankfully, if Lyrahaddrawn Grayson, that would have left Odette drawing herself, so no one could argue as Lyra oriented her body toward the old woman.

Odette, the lawyer. Odette, the actress. Odette, with all her secrets.

Lyra did as Avery had bid them and reallylookedat her subject. In the lines of Odette’s face, she saw the young woman fromChanging Crowns. In Odette’s eyes, Lyra saw lifetimes.

And pain.

Lyra began to draw. “What are you dying of?” She didn’t beat around the bush, and Odette didn’t so much as blink.

“Glioblastoma. Discovered early, for what that’s worth.”

“Inoperable?” Grayson pressed.

“Not necessarily.” Odette raised her chin. “But I find that I am not disposed to let a doctor half my age cut into my brain in the hopes of wringing a few more months out of this life.”

“It could be a year more,” Grayson said. “Or two.”

“The condition is fatal either way,” Odette countered. “And what’s a year or two, to me? I’ve been married three times. Divorced once. Widowed twice. And there were others, at least three of whom I would have gone to hell and back for—two of whom, I arguably did.”

Lyra looked up but kept drawing. Odette’s eyes locked on to hers.

“Love is a strange and wild beast,” the old woman said. “It’s agift and a comfort and a curse. Remember that.” She looked toward Grayson. “Both of you.”

Neither one of them replied. Silence reigned as Lyra worked to complete her drawing, and by the time she was done, her entire body ached. Lyra scanned in the drawing. It wasn’t a close likeness. She wasn’t a good artist.

But the ding sounded nonetheless.

“One more.” Lyra flipped the page and handed the sketch pad to Odette. The old woman took it and the charcoal, and then she stared at Lyra like there was a message buried somewhere behind her eyes. Finally, Odette turned to Grayson—heractualsubject.

As Odette began to draw, Lyra’s hands imagined what it would be like to draw Grayson Hawthorne.All sharp angles, except for those lips.

Thankfully—blessedly—Odette was done in under a minute. She held out the sketchbook to Lyra, who took it and looked down, expecting to see Grayson’s face.

But Odette hadn’t drawn Grayson.

The image on the page wrapped an iron fist around Lyra’s heart and stole the air from her lungs.

A calla lily.

Chapter 73

GIGI

There was a seam on the bottom of the puzzle box, circular and so fine that it couldn’t be made out with the naked eye. Bracing her fingers against the wood, Gigi pushed. A disk popped out—and off.