Page 35 of They're Watching You

“What happens to the dragon?” Donella asks haughtily, touching up her lipstick in a hand mirror. “Why should anyone want to play the dragon if it doesn’t come with an opportunity for promotion?”

“Of course,” Annabelle says, lightly palming her forehead. “The dragon could well win the game. If every knight is eliminated, or if the princess is not recovered by sunrise, the dragon is champion.”

Sunrise. Jordan could well be out of air by then.

“She’ll be fine,” Gavin whispers into my ear. “My friend Dallis was with her. He’s not going to let anything happen.”

Of course. It’s just a game.

“And,” Annabelle adds, her cerulean eyes glimmering in the firelight, “if the dragon wins, he or she will not only be promoted, but will receive an advantage at the next meeting’s game.”

A girl to my left gasps, and the room bursts into cheers. I try to clear my head, to get into competition mode the way I would before a lacrosse game. Annabelle promised to confide more about Polly if I reached a higher station.

I just have to be the best.

Annabelle begins doling out gold coins and envelopes—the duels. Each one is sealed with a wax linchpin. Annabelle tells us that we may not refuse a duel, the one exception being if our challenger’s envelope has been previously opened.

Lastly, she passes out our roles. I cup my hands around mine, shielding the word from wandering eyes. My heart races. Maybe the role of the dragon comes with the princess’s location. That way, I could check on Jordan throughout the game. But I read my role, and the idea slips and flops like a dying fish.

Knight

Guess I’ll have to find her the Gamemaster’s way.

Now, for dramatic flair, Annabelle walks the perimeter of the chamber, blowing out each lantern until we’re cast in utter darkness.

“Victory or dust,” she says, drawing the words out ghoulishly.

And we’re off, bungling and bumping through the chamber and into the dimly lit corridor to the next room. Already, this is the deepest I’ve traveled into the catacombs since joining the society. The stonework, the pillars, the linchpin carving—it’s all the same as the previous chamber. Only there are two doorways in here. The one at the back of the room, leading to the next corridor, and another on the right, containing a narrow, winding staircase.

My fellow society members break off, some headed straight while others take the stairs. “Come on,” Remington says, motioning for me to join him down the steps. “Let’s be allies.”

“Allies?” I ask, confused but following him anyway, because I’m also in favor of the stairs, which means the alternative is slowing down.

“There are two winners. If we do this together, we can both win.”

“How do I know you’re not going to challenge me to a duel and take my coin?”

“I’d have to be an idiot to challenge the dragon,” he says.

“Ha ha.”

“You’re still mad at me.”

“Imagine that.” Remington’s legs are so long, he’s taking the stone steps two at a time. “Probably not used to anyone being immune to your charm and good looks.”

“So, then, you think I’m good-looking.”

My cheeks scorch. “Shut up.”

There are no lanterns in the stairwell, so it takes every effort not to tumble the rest of the way down. By the time we make it to the bottom where the stairs end in an arched doorway, my thighs are burning.

I attempt to pass through, but Remington sidesteps in front of me, forcing me to face him. “Look, Maren, I have my reasons for not going to the headmistress.”

“You said.” Steps pound above us, and Remington ushers me out of the way right before Donella barrels us over. “Though you didn’t actually say what they are.”

“I see you followed through on your task,” Remington says, ignoring my remark. “Doesn’t that make you just as bad as me?”

“No,” I say, though it takes some effort to push past the guilt coagulating in my throat. “Because I’m not here for glory or status or perfect SAT scores.”

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