12

IN COVENT GARDEN, LONDON, BINAH Fae was watching the sun rise from the roof garden of her parents’ penthouse. The little green nook looked down over the sun-soaked streets, where trucks beeped in familiar melodies, while dustmen, bakers, and business owners carried out their early-morning duties across the great city.

Wrapped in a canary-yellow robe, Binah liked to get up extra early during the summer holidays to water her plants and watch London wake up with a nice cup of chamomile tea and a chapati smothered in strawberry jam. She’d read once that one of her idols, Oprah Winfrey, tried to get up every day between half past five and half past six to experience the day to its fullest. Even with the time difference, she liked to think they were connected by their early mornings.

“Looks like it’s nearly time to give you a haircut,” she whispered to the philadelphus flowers, pouring them their breakfast of water and plant food.

She’d also read once that plants grew better if you talked to them, and even though there was no clear science to back it up, sometimes you just had to trust your instincts. Then she heard the buzzing from her phone.

Calls at this time were certainly not a regular part of her morning routine, but one look at the number and she knew all her plans were likely about to go up in flames.

“Lottie!” She slid the FaceTime button to reveal sun-reddened cheeks and frizzy blond curls.

Lottie looked relieved. “You’re awake?”

“Yes. Luckily for you I’m an early riser.” Binah could see something had happened. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” her friend replied much too quickly. “It’s just, well, actually . . .”

“Why are you whispering?” Binah leaned down close to the screen, finding the whisper to be infectious.

“I don’t want anyone eavesdropping.” Lottie looked around nervously before continuing. “Listen, I need your help—”

“Where’s Ellie?”

Lottie blinked, something fluttered past her head, which appeared to be a dragonfly, and the silence spoke far louder than words.

“Tell me. What’s happened?” Binah was nervous now.

“We had a little falling-out the other night.” She sounded distant and melancholy. Shaking her head, Lottie suddenly snapped to efficiency. “But that’s not why I’m calling. Listen, this is going to sound super weird, so hear me out.” She took a deep breath and began talking in a rush. “I found the crest of the Mayfutts carved into a tree in the Kiri Shinrin—the woods surrounding Takeshin—and I just have this feeling that it might give me a clue to the secret treasure hidden in the school.”

“Secret treasure? How delightful.” It was rare that Binah was confronted with a mystery she was unfamiliar with, and her mouth watered at the prospect.

Lottie gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

A truck in the distant London streets made a great honking noise.

Binah shook her head clear. “And you’re sure it was Liliana’s crest?” she asked slowly.

“I’m positive. I know that symbol like it’s my own face.”

Ever since Binah was a little girl she’d had a knack for puzzles. She’d learned from a young age that puzzles are not about connections but about patterns, and once you learn to spot patterns you see them everywhere.

“You want me to get the diary from Lili’s study at Rosewood,” Binah said, this latest puzzle already settling into place in her mind.

“I . . . yes!” Lottie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Binah was used to people being surprised by her. In fact, she even found it amusing. “Please,” Lottie added quickly, “if it’s even possible.”

Taking a small sip of her honeyed tea, Binah tried to contain her delight. The very idea that the mysteries of Rosewood could stem all the way to Japan was as sweet as the tea in her mouth.

She began tapping her teacup. “Breaking into Rosewood is, as I’m sure you know, highly illegal. I’ll have to do some research, and I’ll need help, but I’ll see what I can do.” She spoke calmly, ignoring how her heart thumped. But it was not with fear. She was excited.

The grin on Lottie’s face lit up the whole screen, and the glow of the sun seemed to surge around her.

“Will you tell Ellie?”

“I want to,” Lottie admitted after a long pause. “I think we did the right thing by coming here, but . . . it’s complicated. She thinks my failing grade is her fault and she’s still refusing to realize we’re a team, that I want to be there for her. It’s like she’s pushing me away.”

Another pattern.

“Lottie,” Binah said, seeing the story unfold in her head, “I can’t pretend to know what you’re feeling, or what happened, but if Ellie wants to share in this mystery, she needs to share something of herself first, and she has to figure it out herself. She can’t always rely on you to guide her.”

The patterns were so obvious, and they revealed a puzzle with one clear solution. She could see it in her mind as a garden. Lottie was a rose, straightforward, valiant, blooming clearly, with a scent it shared with the world, both recognizable and comforting. Ellie was more difficult, a western underground orchid that required digging through the earth to reveal its sweet, fragrant flowers. But they were there just the same.

So here was the puzzle, and she shared it with Lottie: “If there are roses in the garden, how can you encourage the orchid, which has spent its whole life hidden away, that it is worthy of the rose?”

“I don’t think I understand,” Lottie said eventually.

Smiling through the screen, Binah took one final sip of tea. “I’m saying,” she offered calmly, “if you and Ellie want to get past this, she needs to stop blaming herself for everything bad that happens.”

“But what if she can’t? What if she keeps pushing me away?”

“Then I guess we’ll all just have to hold on tight.”