35
“What do you mean you killed your best friend?” Thorun squeaks. “You told me you don’t have any friends.”
“I don’t,” I shrug, “she was the only one.”
‘I was never permitted any other.’
“You killed all the rest?” Sona asks, her tone indicating she’s actually impressed.
“No,” I snort. “I told you before, I don’t like people. I don’t need friends.”
“What did she do?” Evelyn asks, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Steal your man?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I just needed something she had, so I killed her and took it.”
Thorun frowns as she studies my expression, but Sona and Evelyn take me at my word.
Of course as usual I’m only giving partial information. Mirabella was my best friend, or so I thought, right up until my twelfth birthday party when I discovered she was something else entirely. And I might never have known if I hadn’t confided in her what had happened with Valentino.
Mere hours later I was standing before my father as he sat behind the desk in his study, gloating.
“Good girl,” he’d chuckled, as though I’d planned what had happened. “The bond is cemented. Valentino has fallen hook, line and sinker. My little honeypot will control him like a puppet.”
I hadn’t needed to ask how he knew; I’d only confided in one person. And I knew then, instantly, what Mirabella was. I’d heard Father speak of ‘minders’ in the past. I knew of people he’d assigned them to.
And I knew I had one.
But I was too smart, even then, to let on that I’d worked it out. Instead I played along, let her watch and report on me throughout high school, university… right up until the night I pushed her off our yacht in the dead of night and stole her identity so I could apply for The Games.
My family thought me dead, but they continued to hunt Mirabella.
After all, she’d failed in her duty to protect me, and rather than explain what had happened and face the music, she’d left a note and run off, or so they thought.
Her body/my body, was never found. So all during my years of running it was still Mirabella they believed they were pursuing — right up until the moment they’d somehow learned of my bait and switch, and that I’d been selected for The Games.
Up until that point, my plan had been flawless.
I’d bided my time. I’d planned my strategy. I’d taken my chance.
And that’s exactly how I intend to play this game.
I refocus on the task at hand now and spin to Evelyn.
“Tell me why you think you can lead this group?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I,” she smiles widely, “have already played this game.”
“What?” Thorun interjects. “How?”
“When I was a baby,” she shrugs, “I was one of the babies who starred in Lord Falcon Dragonspur’s second series.”
“As part of the Louvre challenge?” I frown.
“Yes,” she narrows her eyes at me, “you’ve obviously studied your game history.”
“Down to the minutest detail,” I nod.
“As have I.”
“Then we have a stalemate,” Sona quips. “Because I don’t want to lead. Do you Thorun?”
“Not a chance.”
I grit my teeth. There’s no way I’m going into this challenge under the command of the American.
“You could toss a coin,” Sona suggests, “winner leads. Oh, and we need a safe word.”
“A safe word?” Evelyn frowns.
“Yes, you know, if we all need to run, or if something big is about to happen and we need to hide, or… I don’t know. Although I did once forget my safe word during a branding bondage session,” she sighs, “I still have the letter R on my ass.”
Thorun giggles, and I shake my head, thinking past her ridiculous story and more on how she might actually be onto something.
“That’s a good idea,” I nod. “A word that we all know means something, but no one else will know — not just a word, some key instructions or warnings.”
“It has to be English, then,” Evelyn sighs. “We don’t all have second languages.”
“Yes we do,” Thorun corrects her. “Only those of you with English as a first language haven’t bothered to learn another. The rest of us are bilingual.”
“I know some high-school Spanish and French,” Evelyn sniffs. “I’m not a total Philistine.”
“Most people brushed up on their French when they learned who the bachelor was going to be this season,” Sona nods. “So French is not an option, I guess.”
I ignore Evelyn and Sona as I think through Thorun’s observation.
“Thorun’s right. Our strength lies in our diversity. Nobody but the four of us will know the languages in our room. Some might know a little Italian, the French contestant definitely will, but very few will know Nepalese or Icelandic. We have an advantage.”
“We should use both,” Thorun says quietly, “and interchange them.”
“Yes. A few key phrases. Let’s get those under our belts now. What’s danger in Nepalese, Sona?”
“Khatara.”
“Ka-ta-ra,” Thorun repeats. “Ooh, I have one, óvinur nálgast. It means enemies are approaching.”
“Say it again,” Sona nods, “slowly.”
“Oh-vin-ur nal-gast.”
“Christ!” Evelyn snipes. “And who will shout these key phrases? Catriona or me? Because someone has to take the lead.”
“The only solution is that there will be no leader,” I snap. “We all need to hunker down and learn as much as we can about each other, and when the time comes we’ll decide what to do. The clue said ‘teamwork,’ so that’s how we need to play this — as a team.
“There’s no I in team,” Sona murmurs, “although there is me, if you rearrange the letters.”
“OK, teamwork,” Thorun breathes a deep sigh of relief. “That’s a much better solution. I don’t like it when we fight — it’s so much nicer when we’re all friendly. Ooh, let’s think of a team name.”
I close my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose in despair.
“We are so fucked,” Evelyn sighs, shaking her head.
Sona laughs.