Time passed—too much of it for Rohan’s tastes. You couldn’t rush a riddle, but he saw no utility in remaining static. There were times when winning required patience, but more often, it required action.
“I’ll make you a wager, Savannah Grayson.”
“Will you?” Savannah’s tone was coolly detached, but there was something in the set of her lips that felt more… aggressive.
“How many more puzzles do you think we have to solve before dawn?” Rohan was, among other things, an excellent fencer, but since the sword in his hand was made for fighting of an altogether different type, he fell back on verbal parrying. “And how long have we been staring at this riddle and getting exactly nowhere?”
No response.
“Shall I tell you what you’ve been thinking?” Rohan continued. “Black and white could mean either that the answer is clear and unambiguous or that it is literally black and white. A zebra. A newspaper. A checkerboard.”
“Playing cards,” Savannah countered, “in clubs or spades.”
“Not bad,” Rohan said, glancing at the wall. “But not right, either.” He stepped forward, running his hands over the writing, feeling the grooves of the letters. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we? I’ll bet I can solve this riddle before you do. A little extra motivation never hurt anyone.”
That was a lie, but Rohan was, at heart, a liar.
Savannah didn’t take the bait. “Either you’ve already solved it, and this is your poorly planned attempt to gain an advantage, or you can’t solve it, and you’re hoping this will somehow help.”
“I don’t have the answer,” Rohan countered. “I just see the strategic value in changing the game.”
“You’re lying,” Savannah said, turning her back on him.
“If I win,” Rohan continued, “you have to tell me why you want to win the Grandest Game so badly.” He deliberately avoided the word need. “But if you solve the riddle first, I’ll tell you everything I know about our competition—the other players’ strengths, weaknesses, tragedies, and secrets.”
Rohan wasn’t usually one to give others access to the labyrinth, but he was willing to make a limited exception this time.
“You’re bluffing,” Savannah replied flatly, but her pupils betrayed her, along with the slight curl of her fingers toward her palms. “The players in this year’s Grandest Game were never publicly announced. How could you possibly know anyone’s secrets?”
Rohan shrugged slightly. “Maybe I made a deal with the devil.”
“I doubt you have anything he wants,” she retorted.
“Everyone wants something from me.” Rohan found the truth useful—at times. “I know their secrets, Savvy, because knowing such things is my job.”
“And what job is that?” Savannah countered.
She’d whetted his curiosity. He’d just returned the favor.
Her eyes—looking more ice-blue than gray at the moment—narrowed. “Fine. I’ll accept your wager, British, but I don’t want the secrets you’ve gathered about other people. I want yours. When I solve this riddle first, you have to tell me what your job is. No half answers. No prevaricating. No lies.”
The Devil’s Mercy was a secret establishment for a reason. “Scared?” Savannah said.
“Terrified,” Rohan replied. “You have yourself a wager.”
This was good. This was exactly what he needed. If there was one thing that Rohan knew about himself, it was that when losing wasn’t an option, he always found a way to win.
