Page 5 of Glorious Rivals
“Alisa’s already working on tracking down the boat.We’ll find little sis.In the meantime, you’ve got a game to play—and another sister to watch out for.”
Savannah.Nash’s reminder had Grayson thinking about his sister’s roughly shorn hair—hair that looked very much like it had been cut with a knife.And then Grayson thought about the player with whom Savannah appeared to have allied herself in this game.
The person who had, in all likelihood,bornethe knife.
“Savannah doesn’t want me looking after her,” Grayson commented with all the calm he could muster.
“The ones who need the most looking after never do.”Nash slapped Grayson on the back.“And on that note, we fixed a room up for you at the house.”He held out a large, bronze key.“Find it and get some shut-eye, little brother.Phase two is not for the weak of heart.”
Chapter 4
ROHAN
Rohan never slept deeply.He hadn’t since he was a child.Memories lingered in deep sleep, like shadows with a mind and hunger of their own, so Rohan slept lightly—always aware, always listening, always on guard.
And yet…
He woke in Savannah Grayson’s bed to find himself alone.Let your guard down, did you, boy?the Proprietor’s voice said somewhere in his mind.The formidable Ms.Grayson was nowhere to be seen—and neither was Rohan’s room key.
He knew immediately what Savannah was up to.The sword.
The weapon in question was a longsword with words etched along its silver blade:From every trap be free, for every lock a key.Each team in phase one had been given its own sword—just one.Rohan had made a point the night before of keeping possession of the one he and Savannah had been given.They might have been allies, but theirs was an alliance with a ticking clock.
Ultimately, the Grandest Game could have only one winner, and for Rohan, everything was on the line.Hewouldwin.Savannah just hadn’t realized it yet.She’d doubtless stolen his key to search his room for the sword and claim it as her own.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Rohan smiled wolfishly.Good luck with that, love.He decided to return the favor, searching Savannah’s room while she was gone.With skilled hands, he tested every floorboard, pressed at every molding with fingers both dexterous and strong, removed pillows from their cases, sheets from the bed.He flipped the mattress, searching it for slits.When that turned up nothing, Rohan made his way into the attached bathroom.
Sitting on the marble counter was a mask made of swirling, silvery blue metal.Three teardrop diamonds hung from the corner of each eye.The design had suited Savannah at the masquerade ball the prior evening.Rohan ran the pad of his index finger over the delicate strings of diamonds.Precious gemstones, frozen tears.
But Rohan knew: Savannah Grayson didn’t cry.
Wondering how long it would take her to admit defeat inhisroom, Rohan turned on Savannah’s shower.While the water heated up, he gathered his clothes from the floor of the bedroom and slipped a pair of glass dice out of his pocket.
The indomitable Ms.Grayson had a lot to learn.If she’d been playing long games for as many years as Rohan had, she would have stolen his dice andthengone to look for the sword.
Stepping into the shower, Rohan laid his red dice on a marble shelf and gave his body up to the scalding spray.Rohan had never minded heat.The cold was a different matter—cold water, especially.
The past will drown you if you let it, boy.The Proprietor’s voiceechoed through the twisting halls of Rohan’s mind.Like stones tied to your ankles.
Rohan stepped farther into the scalding heat of the spray, taking in it a distinct kind of pleasure.His focus was sharpest in moments like these.I am going to win the Grandest Game.
Power came, always, at a cost.Pain was a reminder of that.And heat reminded Rohan:I was not made to shiver or drown.
Whatever he had to do to win, he would do it.
Footsteps.Rohan marked the sound of them and the length of the stride—Savannah, incoming.Soon enough, she was standing right outside the shower curtain.
“I didn’t say you could use my shower.”Savannah Grayson’s voice was a socialite’s voice, its sharpness the sharpness of diamonds, not glass.
“And I didn’t say you could try to steal my sword,” Rohan replied lazily.It was too bad, really, that her shower had a curtain instead of a glass door.He would have liked to have seen the expression on her delightfully angular face the moment he called her out.
“The sword isn’t yours.”
Didn’t find it, did you, love?Rohan’s smile deepened.“Agree to disagree.”
“Get out of my shower,” Savannah ordered.
Rohan, magnificent bastard that he was, was happy to comply.He turned off the water, swept the red glass dice from the shelf with his left hand, and curled the fingers on his right hand around the curtain.“Careful what you wish for, love.”
