118
The Unraveling.
I look back to where I saw the tragic French queen enjoying a picnic with friends. She’s gone now, all of them are, but much like the girl in the maze my first morning at Gray Wolf, and my parents fighting in the kitchen over a pregnancy test, the memory lingers.
And yet, this is the first time I’ve peered into the future instead of the past.
Is it because I’ve traveled into the past only to catch a glimpse of its future?
“I’m not psychic, if that’s what you think.” I return to Killian. “If I was, I would’ve known better than to end up here.”
“No,” Killian says, regarding me carefully. “What you have is entirely different.”
“Maybe it was just a distortion of some sort…” My voice fades. We both know that’s not at all what it was.
“My advice?” Killian says, his head bent conspiratorially toward mine. “Don’t tell anyone what you can do.”
“But now you know.” I gaze up at him, breath caught in my throat, while I silently admit to a more horrifying truth:And I’m pretty sure Arthur knows, too. Isn’t that why I’m here?
“And so I do,” Killian says. The moment stretches between us, and I’m not sure how to read it. “Before you push that—” He gestures toward the clicker. “I need you to promise me something.” I guess I must look wary, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t forget you owe me. I saved you. Also, I’m the only one who knows your secret.”
“You can’t be serious!” I balk. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who made the weapon and beat the shit out of that duke.”
“Okay, okay.” He flashes his palms in surrender. “So you’re not exactly a damsel in distress, but you were in a full-on Fade, so—”
“Get to the point already. What do you want?”
“I want you to pretend that you’re returning me to Gray Wolf against my will.”
Now I’m confused.
“I want you to promise that when we arrive, you will hold that shiv to my neck, looking like you have every intention of using it. Same way you looked at the duke. Can you do that?”
“Why?”
“I need you to promise.”
“Fine. I promise. But at least tell me why, so I’ll know who or what it is that I’m up against.”
He inclines his head closer. In a grim voice, he says, “Everyone on that rock should be on your radar. Though I’m hoping after everything we just went through, you and I can be friends.”
I study him for a long, cool beat. But, since the eyes hold the key, and his are obscured by his mask, it’s hard to glean much of anything.
“Why do you want to return if you think it’s so awful?” I ask. “I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I get the feeling this is not just fear of repercussion after what we did to the duke and the guard.”
He leans back, inhales a lungful of air. On the exhale, he bends toward me and says, “Because I’ll be the first. No one ever returns once they’re lost in the past. Mostly because Arthur never sends anyone to retrieve them. And the fact that you’re here leads me to believe he never knew I was lost in the first place, because someone lied and told him I was dead. Still, the plan works only if that person doesn’t suspect that I know.”
“There’s a plan?”
“You really think Arthur created Gray Wolf for the sole purpose of collecting trinkets and art? Everyone in that place has a plan, darlin’. Especially Arthur. And it ain’t about that.”
The way Killian said that makes me wonder if he knows about the Antikythera and Arthur’s plan to remake the world.
But what I say is, “Don’t call me darlin’.”
“Aw, I see.” His lips crack into a grin. “Looks like someone beat me to it.”
I roll my eyes. It’s a shame he can’t see it.
“Who lied—who left you behind? Is this about Elodie?”
Killian looks back toward Versailles, that beautiful jewel of a palace lighting up the night sky. Then he takes my other hand in his and says, “It’s about Braxton.” Before I can ask him to elaborate, he adds, “And, by the way, you were amazing back there. The way you kicked that duke’s ass was truly impressive. Also, for the record, while I apologize for the embrace, especially after everything you suffered with that asshole of a duke, youdidkiss me back.”
Next thing I know, he pushes the sapphire, and we zoom two hundred seventy-five years into the future.