Page 78 of Shattered Jewel

THE PHANTOM

As Elara disarms the estate’s second floor, we stay close behind, wary of any missed or deliberately left behind snares, webs, or nets. Elara seems to enjoy our rare moment of weakness a little too much.

The Sovereigns would’ve carved into me for such a failure. Elara just smiled, her eyes glinting with refreshing, harmless amusement.

Well, harmless in the figurative sense.

Unlike Kaspian’s clear distrust, Cav’s suspicious prowl, and Wilder’s glowering, I follow her lead with ease. Potential pitfalls barely even register to my peripheral senses, like I can sense them before Elara gets to the ones that weren’t connected to the button she pressed.

“Maverick’s bedroom,” Kaspian barks behind me. “Take us to it.”

Elara doesn’t bother to turn and acknowledge him, though her back stiffens as she turns right down a hallway, Sasha throwing a glare in his direction as she walks beside Elara.

Now, surrounded by the frozen remnants of a life cut brutally short, familiar minutiae triggers visceral flashes of recollection I can’t fully suppress. Maverick’s overflowing bookshelf stacked with well-thumbed fantasy epics, and coding manuals; the teetering stacks of once-beloved graphic novels and gaming guides; custom-built cubbies and slots fashioned between the shelves to stash ... what, exactly?

I blink, and the room doesn’t look how I just described it. It’s messier, the books and manuals tossed, the stack of graphic novels tipped over, drawers left open.

How did I know what it looked like before?

I systematically take stock of the scene, my gaze roving for even the most minuscule divergence that could prove meaningf?—

There. Next to the disheveled bed, nearly obscured by the room’s arabesque wallpaper pattern.

To the unwitting observer, it could pass as mere idle scribbling. But the cadence of the dots and dashes subtly penned on the wallpaper rings alarmingly familiar, catalyzing a renewed sense of purpose I can’t allow myself to telegraph.

My fingers twitch, begging for my phone, but I clench them until my nails dig into my palms, and they still.

I don’t have to give them everything.

The cut on my face throbs, taking over where my fingers left off.

I haven’t been honest with my brothers-in-arms, and that alone makes me sick. To involve Elara in the same tangled mess of lies and deceit makes my gut churn. But I have no choice.

Not if I want to keep her safe.

I stride toward the wall, ignoring Kaspian’s demands to know what I’m doing. My fingers trace the pattern of dots and dashes, translating the message effortlessly in my mind. Coordinates. A meeting place. Wraithwood Estate.

Maverick knew he was in danger. He left this message for Elara to find William Jonquil’s ancient office. And find it, she did.

I turn back to the others, my face a mask of calm indifference.

Elara’s eyes narrow, her gaze flicking from me to the wall and back again. But she says nothing, merely nodding toward Maverick’s computer.

“That’s his baby, right there,” she says to Kaspian. “Whoever was dressed in black and tore through this room didn’t take it for some reason.”

“He was looking for something else,” Sasha adds. “Something specific. Is there another enemy we have to keep an eye on, or are you all popping out of the Cimmerian Court like fresh acne?”

Nobody answers. With a jerk of his chin, Cav sends Wilder to inspect Maverick’s closet and me to rummage through the nightstand drawer and bookshelf, where I pull items out at random, knowing I won’t find anything.

I pause, frowning. Then remember all Maverick’s clues thus far have been electronic. So why did the intruder leave the computer for us to find?

Because he didn’t want to actually take something crucial. Only for it to look that way.

Wait. How do I know that?

My head starts to ache, more related to my mental gymnastics than the cut on my face.

Kaspian draws my attention, moving directly to the fully equipped gaming chair in front of the computer.