Gigi turned in a circle, the words of the poem echoing through her mind as the walls of the sci-fi-worthy chamber whoosh-whooshed around them. When you’re ready, make the call. An old-fashioned red phone booth that looked like it had been lifted straight from the streets of London took up a significant portion of the room, making the remainder of the metal chamber nice and cozy—maybe too cozy, given the rhinoceros-sized tension between Brady and Knox.
The whooshing of walls stopped, and the effect was as if an invisible hand had peeled back one layer of metal for another. On the surface of the new section of wall, there were words.
I COME BEFORE FALL AFTER THE CENTER
AND NOT BAD AT ALL
IN FRONT OF A HORSE NAMED LILY OR ROSE
OR COOLNESS IN SHADOW I’M ALL OF THOSE
WHAT AM I?
“A riddle.” Knox’s voice was terse—terser than usual, even. “Obviously, we’re supposed to solve it.”
“And then make the call,” Gigi added cheerfully, “per our rhyming instructions and also that giant phone booth.”
Brady considered the sword he’d claimed in the prior room, then looked up to the mirrored ceiling overhead. “Small space,” he commented, his voice echoing off the metal walls, his gaze flicking toward Knox.
A muscle in Knox’s jaw ticked. “Summer comes before fall.”
“So does pride,” Brady replied. “Give or take an article adjective.”
Gigi read between the lines of that loaded exchange. In the riddle, fall could refer to the season or a descent. And Knox really doesn’t like small spaces.
He also still didn’t particularly like her. Yet.
“Okay, so summer and pride come before the fall,” Gigi summarized. She looked to the next line of the riddle. “And after the center, you have what? The edge? The end? A lily and a rose are both flowers.” She paused. “Summer flowers?”
“A rose is,” Knox said, his voice tight. “Lilies bloom in spring.”
Brady shifted his gaze from the curved wall to Knox. “So you do remember.”
It took Gigi a moment of extremely tense silence to realize: a calla was a kind of lily.
“Shadow suggests the blocking of sun.” Knox kept his focus pointedly on the riddle. Every muscle in his neck looked tight. “An eclipse? And center… the equator?”
Brady said nothing. Gigi was a babbler by nature, not at all prone to shutting up, but some moments called for giving people space— metaphorically, in this case. She stayed silent as she looped back to the beginning of the riddle. I come before fall…
Falling. Gigi’s mind generated scattershot possibilities. Gravity. Humpty Dumpty. All the king’s horses. Her gaze jumped to the fourth line of the poem: In front of a horse…
“Putting the cart before the horse?” Gigi hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Sorry.”
Brady shifted his weight slightly. “Don’t be.”
Gigi thought back to the way he’d touched her stomach—and then she thought about something that Brady had said to Knox: The difference is that I loved her.
He’d used the past tense, but the feelings audible in his voice had clearly been anything but. Brady still loved Calla, whoever she was. And as soft a spot as Gigi had for tragic and as much as she didn’t shy away from even the worst ideas, she also wanted to win the Grandest Game. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to fly again.
So she closed her eyes, banished the memory of Brady’s touch to the ether, and took a deep breath. I am one with this metal chamber and its mirrored ceiling and whoosh-whooshing wall. She forced herself to forget about Brady. And Knox. And Brady-and-Knox. And Calla, who was missing or dead or missing-and-dead.
I come before fall. Gigi took another steadying breath. After the center and not bad at all. In front of a horse named Lily or Rose. Or coolness in shadow. I’m all of those…
