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106
When I arrive in the gardens, I cast a nervous glance in the direction of the palace, painfully aware of just how quickly the seconds tick past.
Like grains of sand spilling to the bottom of an hourglass, the countdown is on, leaving me with less than two hours to obtain Arthur’s hidden treasure and one masked boy who I’m expected to find in a crowd that’s reputed to be over ten thousand strong.
It’s a classic needle in a haystack situation with a ticking time clock attached. And if I’m unfortunate enough to miss the return trip and cross my own timeline, annihilation will be the price for my failure.
I will simply blink out of the world as though I never existed.
In the distance, the view of Versailles glowing under a sky full of stars makes for a breathtaking sight. And I can’t help but wonder if this is what King Louis XIV had in mind when he gazed upon the former hunting lodge set deep in the forest and dreamed of the sort of splendor it would one day become under his guidance.
How would he feel to see it on this night, at a party hosted by his great-grandson?
What would he think about the palace’s ultimate future as a tourist attraction, with an orange juice kiosk parked beside the Mirror Fountain, and a shop that sells postcards, guidebooks, and other themed tchotchkes squeezed inside the former Royal Chapel?
I drag my gaze away and focus on the task set before me. Shortly after my visit to the Vault, I started researching everything I could find on the gardens of Versailles, only to discover they’re far more extensive than I initially thought.
And yet, there was one section that stood out among the rest.
One particular fountain that, if I’m right about the symbols on Columbus’s map, should lead me straight to the Antikythera Mechanism’s missing piece that Arthur has tasked me to find.
But before I can begin, I need to figure out just exactly where I am so I can determine which way to head next.
There’s a sculpture beside me of a beautiful woman holding a mask in one hand, while a fox crouches beside her, and I instantly recognize it from a book I found on a shelf of rare first editions in the Gray Wolf library. As I continue to stare at the white marble form, the facts as I remember them unspool in my brain like a breaking news ribbon on cable TV.
The mask symbolizes flattery.
The fox, cunning.
The sculpture was executed in 1685 by Louis Leconte, as per a design by Mignard.
The title he gave it:Deceit.
On the screen in my mind, I replay the clip of Elodie handing over my mask—then zoom in for a tight shot of the forced expression of innocence that didn’t quite fit. And for a fleeting moment, I wonder if this is her doing—if she’s sending a message, trying to mess with my head.
But, just as quickly, I realize how foolish that is. According to Arthur, Elodie doesn’t know about the Antikythera Mechanism, much less the Get he expects me to find.
Sure, she may have been messing around with my mask, but I seriously doubt she has any control over where I ultimately land.
And yet, I can’t let go of the thought that the sculpture holds a message I can’t afford to ignore.
In a moment of panic, I tap the side of my mask, testing to see if it works. Instead of a green arrow directing me to the portal, I see two projected circles shaped like a target, confirming my current location inside its borders, and my shoulders go slack with relief.
While it’s nice to know Elodie hasn’t rigged my only reliable means of finding my way back to Gray Wolf, I am horrified to discover I’ve gotten so sidetracked by nonsense that a full six minutes have already passed.
Or is that what Elodie intended all along?
Was landing me next toDeceitan attempt to make me suspicious enough that—
I shake my head. I have to stop thinking like this. There’s literally no time to waste.
But before I move on, I return to the statue again.
In addition to its symbolism, I also read thatDeceitis the first sculpture on the north side of theAllée Royale. Which means, technically, I don’t have all that far to go to reach my desired destination, or at least not on paper.
I exhale an audible sigh of relief and scold my still-wobbling knees to calm the hell down. I have a job to perform. An exam to ace. A sexy boyfriend to return to. Never mind the ultimate threat hanging over my head of my own existential demise.
And yet, despite my efforts to banish all thoughts of Elodie to a land far, far away, that statue continues to nag like an annoying kid kicking the back of a seat on an airplane.
