Page 83 of The Grandest Game

“Did you ever mention me?” Lyra hadn’t meant to ask Graysonthat, but she didn’t back-pedal. “Or our phone calls? Did you tell your brothers or Avery—”

“No.” Grayson’s response was so immediate and so absolute that Lyra heard it like a slamming door.

Right, she thought.Because what was there to mention?

For a long moment, it seemed like Grayson might say something else, but instead, he crossed to the projector and hit Play. “I’d wager whatever we’re looking for is in the first half—perhaps even the first quarter—of the film. We’re on the clock, and the one universal trait of Hawthorne puzzles is that they are meant to be solved.”

Lyra had no idea how much time they had left before dawn. Minutes and hours had lost all meaning. It felt like they had been locked in for days, but soon enough, one way or another, this night would end.

Soon enough, Lyra would never have to speak to or look at Grayson Hawthorne again.

Focus on the puzzle. Focus on the movie. Focus on getting out by dawn.

Within the first few scenes, it became apparent thatChanging Crownswas a heist film, a royal romance, and one hundred percent an artifact of its time.

“You, sir, are a conman and a cad.” Young Odette’s voice was the same as her older counterpart’s—exactly the same.

“I’m also a count,” came the reply from the male lead. “And no concern of yours.”

Odette is an actress.Scene after scene, Lyra considered the ramifications of that. Beside her, Grayson angled his lips downward, toward her ear.

“She’s very good.” His voice was just barely audible—and only to her.

Lyra kept her gaze locked on the screen and her words just as low as his. “Do you think she was lying?”

“About your father, my grandfather, or her health? No. However…”

However, Lyra thought, pushing down the incredible urge to look at him,she volunteered that information right after you asked her about omega.

The film skipped. Lyra wondered if she’d imagined it, and then it skipped again.

“Stop the movie,” Lyra said, but Odette had already stopped it. The old woman expertly reeled the film back, then started manually moving it forward again, one frame at a time. Eventually, a letter popped up on the screen—a single frame inserted into the film.O.

“Keep going,” Lyra said, the buzz of energy audible in her voice. At the next skip, there was another letter.P. A third frame gave themE.

“The next one is going to be anN,” Grayson predicted.

It was. Frame after frame, skip after skip, the letters kept coming.T,H,E,D,R,A.

Lyra’s mind began filling in the blanks, but she bided her time and waited until she was sure.

W,E,R,S.

“Open the drawers.” Lyra’s voice echoed through the theater. “What drawers?”

Like magic, a section of thick, velvety fabric fell away from the wall. Behind it, there were four drawers and an arching door with an ornate bronze knob. Inside each drawer, there was an object:

A lollipop.

A pad of sticky notes.

A light switch.

A paintbrush.

“There’s writing on the knob,” Grayson noted. Lyra crouched beside him to get a better look at the bronze doorknob. The metal bore only one word.

FINALE.