“Well, that sounds perfect.” Elodie opened another bottle of wine and refilled our glasses.
Jack looked at me. “Are we really—”
“Apparently.”
Elodie settled back against the couch, twirling ends of her hair between her thumb and forefinger. “Never have I ever kissed somebody in this room,” she said, and merrily took a drink of her wine. Beside her, Stellan drank, too.
I looked at Jack.
We could lie, I told him with my eyes. We might not want Elodie knowing everything.
Elodie rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid. You were caught in her room at our house.”
Stellan held up a mocking finger. “But they’re not together. Ask them why.”
I glared at him. “This is more important. We don’t want to be distracted, and—”
Elodie snorted. “Is it exhausting to be so upstanding and self-righteous all the time?”
“Some of us take life-or-death matters seriously—” Jack started.
Elodie turned to Stellan. “You’ve been having to deal with this? I’m sorry for you.” She gestured at me with her wineglass, nearly spilling the contents out on the carpet. She didn’t notice. She’d had more to drink than I’d realized. I was surprised—she was usually so controlled. “You have at least kissed. So drink. That’s the game.”
I bit back a retort, and Jack and I sipped our wine.
“I feel left out,” Luc said. “All of you have kissed each other.”
“Aw, Lucien,” Elodie said, reaching out to him. “I will kiss you anytime.”
Luc blew an air kiss in her direction. “Merci, El, but you’re not exactly my type.”
There was a beat of silence, then Stellan sat forward. “If you want—”
Luc’s cheeks went bright pink, and he threw a piece of baguette at Stellan. Grinning, Stellan caught it and whipped it back.
“Okay, okay,” Elodie said, holding up her glass. “Never have I ever kissed more than one person in this room.”
She cocked an eyebrow, and I cocked mine back, watching her gaze flit between Stellan, Jack, and me. “Really?” I said flatly. “I told you—”
She shrugged innocently. “Why else are they both putting their lives on the line to follow you around the world? Jackie’s being the noble knight, keeping her safe, but . . .”
She looked at Stellan. I knew he wouldn’t tell her about the thirteenth thing.
“Fine,” Elodie said, but her face broke into a slow smile. “But I know there are people who will drink to it.” She raised her glass and took a drink, then looked pointedly around, eyes landing on Jack.
He cleared his throat. “This game is ridiculous,” he said, and took a sip.
I don’t think my mouth actually fell open, but it might have. Jack wouldn’t meet my gaze, but Elodie smiled smugly.
But that meant—Jack. And Elodie.
“Yes,” she said in her pretty French accent. “Exactly what you’re thinking.”
It was like there was this whole version of Jack I didn’t know existed. It wasn’t my place to be annoyed about it, for lots of reasons, but . . . “Getting off the subject of kissing,” I said.
“Aw, why?”
“Never have I ever lied to the people I cared about to get my way,” I continued pointedly. I still wasn’t sure I trusted Elodie’s intentions for being here.
Something flashed across her face, but she took a drink, with a hint of an eye roll at me like, I get what you’re doing. “If any of you say you have not done that, you’re lying now. You are not getting into the spirit of this game.”
The room was suddenly subdued. It had started raining harder, and it pattered onto the balcony outside. My head was spinning. I wasn’t sure whether it was the wine or the conversation or the long day or the fact that I’d barely slept last night, as usual. “Maybe it’s time for bed,” I said.
“Boring,” Luc said, but he rubbed his eyes sleepily and stood up. Stellan blew out the candles on the shrine and Elodie let me borrow a pair of leggings and a T-shirt.
The bedroom was large, with four sets of bunk beds. Jack and I took two lower bunks across from each other, and the rest of them sprawled across various other beds in the room.
“Good night,” I whispered.
“Good night,” Jack answered.
“Good night,” Elodie called teasingly from across the room, then switched off the light.
Of course, the minute the light went off, my eyes wouldn’t close. Illumination from the street outside made shadows on the wall, and I watched them for a while. There had to come a time, biologically, when I was exhausted enough to fall asleep no matter what, right?
But not exhausted enough that you won’t wake up with nightmares, a little voice whispered. Especially after today.
From across the room, someone was snoring lightly. I was okay just an hour ago. Did drinking wine always give you this kind of emotional whiplash? I flopped onto my side again, kicking the blankets restlessly.
We had just over a week to find the bracelet, the tomb, save my mom. Stop the Circle suitor countdown and the assassinations. Decide what I was going to do after that. Assuming what was in the tomb really would stop the Order, my duty to the Circle would be done.
But would I leave? Leave Lydia, and my father?
Jack?
In the bed across from me, he stirred, then settled with a sigh. Would he come with me if I left? Did I . . . Would . . . If . . .
• • •
In my dream, I was in seventh grade, but in Venice. Poppy Levine, the richest girl in our grade, was throwing the bat mitzvah I wasn’t invited to in real seventh grade at San Marco Basilica, and just as she blew out candles on a giant birthday cake, everyone at the party fell down dead.