Game of Secrets

by Kim Foster

  The Queen nods subtly to us. Her eyes go briefly to mine, locking with my gaze for a second. A hint of a smile flickers across her face. I am frozen, caught in the moment.

  It’s more than enough thanks.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  “‘I’ll teach you how to jump on the wind’s back, and then away we go.’”

  —J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy

  I descend the stairs at Greybourne Academy. It feels good to be back in the Oxfordshire countryside, among the farms and the hedgerows. Just a few days ago, Hawksmoor and Sig finalized the security border. We are protected again.

  For now.

  My thoughts turn briefly to Warwick. He’s still out there, somewhere. Likely regrouping, and possibly planning another attack. But we’ll be ready. I, for one, will relish the opportunity, when it comes.

  The smell of freshly baked bread reaches me as I walk past the stairwell that leads to the kitchens. Outside the training rooms, the air sings with the ring of practice steel. As I cross the marble floor outside the training gymnasium, I spot Julian. He nods, a serious, businesslike gesture, but there is playfulness in his eyes.

  “Good morning, Miss Cole,” he says.

  “Mr. Blake,” I say, nodding in return.

  He falls into step beside me as I stride down the corridor toward the foyer. His hand brushes mine, lingering just a little longer than necessary.

  “Now, you know that’s not fair,” he says, eyebrow raised.

  “What’s not fair?”

  “We’re sparring tonight during training. And now you’re trying to distract me. But I know your tricks, Miss Cole, and it’s not going to work.”

  “Mr. Blake, you have only begun to discover my tricks.”

  He guffaws. “Fine. I’ll see you later. Try not to scare the greenie, all right?” He heads off, winking at me just before he leaves.

  After another minute, I arrive at the foyer, just as Hawksmoor walks through the door, a new recruit in tow. “Miss Cole,” he says, “I’d like to introduce you to our newest Candidate. Oliver, this is Miss Felicity Cole. She will tell you everything you need to know.”

  Oliver is clearly a street urchin. Taking in his ragged clothes and pointed, filthy face, I feel a pang of sympathy—and knowing—flash through me. Did I look like that? His eyes are wide white circles within a grimy face, taking everything in with barely contained terror.

  “Right. I’ll leave you in her very capable hands. Oh, and, Oliver? If you become half the agent Felicity Cole is, you’ll be doing just fine.” With that, Hawksmoor strides away.

  Fighting to keep a smile from my face, I stand before the new recruit, hands on my hips. I know he thinks his life is over. The truth, of course, is that it’s just beginning.

  “Welcome, Oliver. Welcome to Greybourne Academy. Let me start with a simple yet most critical lesson you’ll learn here.” I bend down to him and take his shoulders in my hands. “You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute … and now and then stab, as occasion serves.”

  I stride ahead, leading Oliver to his new quarters. We pass through a long gallery, where a portrait of our founding father hangs. Oliver looks up at it. “On the train, Hawksmoor told me this was all started by the playwright, that one who was supposed to have been killed, but who didn’t actually die when everyone thought he did? Kit Marlowe?”

  “Christopher, actually. Although I believe some of his friends—Shakespeare included—called him Kit.”

  The words die in my mouth. My body goes numb.

  No.

  My mind spools back to everything I know. Everything about my old life and that fateful day in the market. And I realize, after all I’ve been through, that it’s possible I don’t know anything at all.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

  Writing Game of Secrets was an incredible adventure, to be sure, and there are several people I need to thank, people without whose support this book would never be sitting in your hands.

  Thank you to Sandy Lu, my agent extraordinaire, for all your tireless work and steadfast support.

  Thank you to Alison Weiss for being a spectacular editor (and for loving this story as much as I do), and the entire team at Sky Pony Press, for being wonderfully supportive and lovely.

  Thank you to my fellow Sky Pony authors, who have been there with encouragement and friendship throughout this publishing journey.

  Thank you to my fellow debut YA authors (both the 2017 Debuts and the Electric Eighteens) for all your camaraderie and advice.

  Thank you to the lovely, supportive SCBWI group for critique and cheerleading: Jennifer Honeybourn, Leslie Wibberley, Ruth Olson Bigler, and Bonnie Jacoby.

  Thank you to the whole wonderful SiWC community, and especially Kathy Chung, kc dyer, Laura Bradbury, and Tyner Gilles. I credit the annual SiWC conference with not only kickstarting my writing career but continuing to provide inspiration and motivation year after year. I particularly want to give a huge virtual hug to my good friend Eileen Cook for so much advice, critique, and guidance every step of the way.

  I am indebted to Karma Brown, my rockstar critique partner and writing bestie. And thank you to Annabel Fitzsimmons and Rebecca Stanisic for writerly companionship, especially our dreamy, delicious writing retreats.

  Thank you to my mom and dad for … everything. And to my sisters Deb and Vivi for being my best friends forever.

  And finally, thank you to my husband, Ken, for being wonderful in a thousand ways, and to my boys, Griffin and Holden, for being my biggest fans. I love you always.