Page 86 of The Grandest Game

“Kings and queens,” Savannah whispered. She reached for one of the boxes. Without her braid and all that hair, Rohan could make out the back of her neck, long lines, tension, and all.

He reached for a box of his own. “The crown and scepter clues are self-explanatory. As far as empty thrones go—”

Savannah cut him off. “We’re looking for a set that’s missing a king or a queen.”

They got to work. No two chess sets were the same. There were pieces made of marble and glass, crystal and wood; boards that folded and boards that were bejeweled; simple sets and works of art; themed chess sets and children’s chess sets and antiques.

And finally—finally—Rohan found one set that was missing a king. “Savvy.” That was all he had to say, and Savannah was besidehim, her long legs rendering the space that had separated them moments before obsolete.

Rohan removed the chess board from the box. The pieces were plastic, unremarkable. The board was exactly what you would expect of a cheap chess set, but that didn’t stop Rohan from unfolding it and delivering pieces to their designated spots.

Savannah interjected herself into the process, and they worked in tandem—his hands, hers, his again—until all the pieces were on the board except for the missing king.

“There’s our throne,” Rohan said, nodding toward the empty square. “That, or its mirror on the other side.”

Savannah reached forward and touched the square—and then she dragged a fingernail across its surface. The black on the square came off, like the surface of a scratch-and-win ticket.

Beneath, there was writing:USE ME.

Rohan lifted the board, sending the pieces scattering. He pushed against the square with his thumbs, and it popped out. Savannah’s hand darted to catch it. She squeezed the square between her forefinger and her thumb, and it lit up with an eerie, purplish glow.

“A blacklight,” Rohan murmured.

“The Ping-Pong balls,” Savannah said beside him. “The ones we turned.”No hesitation.

In an instant, they were at the back wall. “Shield them from the actual light with your hand, then try the blacklight,” Rohan said.

She did.Theydid, and letters appeared one by one on the balls they’d rotated earlier, spelling out a Latin word.

“Veritas.” Rohan said it out loud. There was a beep, and a section of the ball-covered wall separated from the rest.A hidden compartment.Inside there were four objects.

A lint roller.

A birthday card.

A vial of glitter.

An old-fashioned silk fan.

When they’d removed all the objects from the compartment, another, larger section of the Ping-Pong-ball wall swung outward like a door. Carved into the wooden floorboards where the wall had been a moment before, there was a single word.FINALE.

“One last puzzle.” Savannah stepped up next to him, staring down at the word.

This stage of the game, this moment in time, was coming to an end. Soon the two of them would no longer be a team. She’d promised to destroy him. She’d promised to enjoy it. Rohan tended to believe her on both counts, which meant that if he wanted Savannah Grayson—as an asset—he would need to make his move.

“If you’re about to propose another wager,” Savannah said, “my answer is no.” Her uneven, knife-cut hair made her look even more like a warrior wrapped in ice-blue silk. She still wore the lock and the chain around her waist, and if the weight of them was painful, she didn’t seem to mind, any more than Rohan minded bloody knuckles.

“No more wagers,” Rohan told her. “No more games.” He’d come into this thinking of himself as a player and her as a game piece. But Rohan hadn’t gotten to where he was by underestimating any opponent for long, and Savannah was far more than a queen.

She was a player, too. “I believe it’s time,” Rohan said, locking his eyes on to hers, “that you and I struck a deal.”

Chapter 63

LYRA

Lyra stepped through theFINALEdoor into a massive room like none she’d ever seen. A tile mosaic covered the floor, the ceiling, the walls. A majority of the tiles were black, but every color imaginable made an appearance in the elaborate, twisting swirls of the mosaic.

“It’s a ballroom,” Grayson offered behind her.