Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, I skipped breakfast and tried to get answers out of Landon about the tension between him and Kingston. Again, he reassured me nothing was wrong before taking off.
When we finished, I tried again, and still, he placated me instead of telling me the truth.
I put my foot down. “I’m not saying you need to give me all the details, but don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
Guilt flashed across his face. “You know I don’t think that.”
“Okay, well, then admit something is going on, and say you’re not ready to talk about it. Because telling me everything is hunky-dory when something is clearly weird between you two treats me like I’m too oblivious to notice.”
His expression softened. “You’ve had a lot on your mind with Max, Quinn. Between him and the Scavenger Hunt, I didn’t want to add to it.”
“Thank you. That’s not exactly what I said, but it’s better,” I said pointedly. “But regardless of what’s going on with Max, I’m aware of you and Kingston. I can tell you two are sorting through something.”
Landon sighed, running a hand through his hair, frustration evident but not directed at me. He stared up at the house, his brow furrowing. “My memory is returning more frequently.”
My eyes widened. “Since when?”
“The third escape room. Max and I—” He looked away guiltily. “We fought. He said something that triggered a panic attack, and he had to pull me out of it.”
I gaped at him, shocked neither of them had mentioned it. But then, things had snowballed pretty quickly since that night, so I focused on what mattered. “Are you okay?”
Landon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes and no?”
“Oh, Buns…” I stepped into his arms and looped mine around his middle. “I’m so sorry.”
He wrapped me in his hold and hugged me tightly to his chest. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it before sharing it with you. It’s a lot. And it’s confusing. Sorting out what order the memories fall in. Each time I think I’ve pieced it together, another memory surfaces.”
“Wouldn’t Kingston be able to tell you?”
His jaw tightened. “Yes, but I haven’t decided if I want him to do that yet.”
I bit down on my cheek to keep from responding, wanting him to share whatever he felt comfortable telling me without worrying over how I’d react.
As we sat in silence on a log by the lake, Landon stared out over the water while his jaw worked around words he wanted to release.
Finally, he hung his head. “Quinn, I think I killed my mother.”
I looped my arm around him and squeezed tightly, struggling not to react and immediately deny the possibility. Surely, if that had happened, Kingston would’ve mentioned it.
He wouldn’t have left that out, so I hated that Landon believed it for a second, and that he was dealing with it alone.
These secrets—Landon’s memory and past—were driving wedges between us. Isolating us when we needed each other.
I pulled back to assess him.
Staring off into the distance, his expression carried so much pain as he shook his head. Tears filled my eyes before I blinked them away. “What do you remember?”
“It comes in flashes. Crimson palms. Blood on my hands. Kingston coming toward me, at some point when I was out of my mind. I put my palm out to stop him. To keep him away, and I—” He winced and pressed a hand to his temple.
“They were covered in blood. I remember wanting him to stay away from me. I just don’t know why. ”
I swallowed as he shared his memory, recalling Kingston’s reaction the day before after he’d put his hand out to stop me from getting closer.
Despite the urge to encourage Landon to talk to Kingston, I feared Landon might shut down if I did. I thought of letting Kingston know what Landon remembered myself, but I didn’t want to break his trust and confidence in me.
Navigating how to help the three of them had grown more difficult, and Kingston and Landon’s relationship had always been separate from what they shared with me.
It affected me. The Knights’ Quorum was proof of that.
But some things were theirs to manage together, and I couldn’t get involved. Figuring out how to support them without interfering would take time, but I’d find a way.
Maybe all I could do was be there for them, holding space if they needed it.
“What triggers the memories to come out?”
“Every time I close my eyes, there’s something new.
It’s in pieces but still coming.” Glancing down at me, his grief-stricken expression filled with concern.
“Sometimes, I wake up fighting a ghost that isn’t there.
It’s not safe for you to be around me when I’m asleep, so please, promise me you’ll keep your distance. ”
I pulled back to stare at him, my voice firm. “You won’t hurt me anymore than Max will, Landon. I’d bet my life on that now.” When his jaw tightened, I relented and tucked back into his chest. “But yes, if that makes you more comfortable, I’ll make sure I leave if we end up in that position, okay?”
He nodded, the slightly eager movement of his chin jarring the top of my head. Noticing that, he dropped a kiss to my crown, and one to my temple, before meeting my eyes.
“I will talk to Kingston,” he promised. “I just need time.”
“However you need to process this, I support you.” I offered what Kingston had said to me the day before to Landon, hoping to bring them closer. “Remember, I’m here.”
He smiled, swatted my butt, as was our tradition, and sent me on my way to my next session. With a heart full of worry over how their past would play out in the present.
And what it might mean for our future.
For the next hour, Peter and I stared each other down from across a chessboard. In progressing toward my larger goals, my Strategy sessions proved as useless as I was at chess.
He reviewed the movement patterns for each piece again, then calculated his next move while I stared at the pieces.
Strategic action felt less important than understanding the other players on the board. I touched my King, where he sat beside the Queen. Each time I moved it, I thought of Kingston.
“Remember, he can move to any square around him, but only one at a time.”
While the pawns had the most complicated rules for their movements, the King’s were the most limited.
I couldn’t deny how fitting that was, and I glanced at the photos along the back wall, thinking of Desi.
Why had it been necessary to bring her into this? Or me?
With his hands tied by his father, Kingston carried so much weight on his shoulders as he tried to find a way to beat him.
When Drake had shown up unexpectedly during our break before the Courage Challenge, he’d whirled in like a hurricane. Unable to stay long at Pendragon, since the house belonged to Kingston, he’d rained down fury on his son while demanding action to correct what he’d messed up by choosing me.
As the Valencourts made moves in the background that Drake D’Arthur hadn’t suspected, an onslaught of information was handed over to me without his knowledge.
Then, one thing after another had come up, and it had been hard to sift through everything.
But I’d overheard him mention one grand prize.
He’d said the winner of The Quest became Queen and picked the next King of Camelot Court.
As Peter moved his Knight and took one of my pieces off the board, I stared at the fallen pawn he’d pushed to the side.
“The Queen moves in every direction, right?”
Peter nodded, but as he answered my question, my thoughts shifted to Landon, his memory, and Desi’s death. His role in what happened, and guilt over not being able to save her, weighed heavily as the anniversary approached.
With his quiet, brooding angst, often over my stubbornness and how hard he tried to be good, I had faith he’d find his way through everything. He was steadfast and sure.
Relentless in his pursuits.
For those reasons, he’d make a great King next year.
Those were also a few reasons I lov—
“Quinn?” Peter pulled my head up. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “Sorry, what did you say?”
He smiled. “The Queen moves in a straight line, but in any direction she wants, so she can extend out like sun rays, if that makes sense.”
I pictured the Queen in the center of the Round Tableau, staring at the twelve Knights.
She could move to any she wanted.
Like the hub at the center of a wheel.
While I didn’t know why that mattered, it felt important.
After my lesson with Peter, I went to Sublimation training and painted my feelings onto the floor in streaks of gold radiating out like the sun.
Over that, I added controlled, careful streaks of red and pink. Swirls and loops forming an indistinguishable pattern that reminded me of him.
Then, I picked the purple and moved to a blank wall for what I called Rage Painting Time. Wild strokes of acrylic smeared the entire wall when I finished, licking up the space like flames burning down the house.
Fitting, if not entirely too infuriating.
With my face covered with streaks of purple, I went to my room to wash up.
As I walked into Camelot Courtyard, I spotted several of the girls working on their clues between their lessons.
All around me, they were making progress.
Luna was already on her third clue. She’d unlocked the lockbox and solved whatever waited inside it.
Teddy had three rows left on a crossword puzzle.
I had no idea when the crossword puzzle showed up.
Anxiety over my lack of progress gnawed at my gut.
But I couldn’t focus on the Scavenger Hunt with my concerns over Max, on top of my other two broody men.
As everyone progressed, working together waned.
Even Angela, who’d been sharing theories last night, had grown more tight-lipped. I understood it, but I hated how the end of the challenge pitted us against each other.
Maybe, since my dad had never let me sign up for team sports aside from my dance lessons, it played into that.
I wanted everyone to get a participation trophy.
Maybe I just wanted a trophy, dammit!
Was that so wrong?