I cut the fourth pinecone off, turning it over. The wood beneath it is smooth and normal. But as I pull off the superglue on the base of the cone, my face lights up. The bottom of the pinecone is hollowed out and inside is a small rolled-up piece of paper.

I tip it into my palm and immediately unroll it. Written on the paper in my dad’s handwriting is a message. I read aloud:

We’re taking to the street in treason

Welcome to the first Death Season

It’s time to make a change, and we’ve picked a day

The head Lion we will slay

My mind races. “A rhyme?” I say, confused.

I’m silent for a beat and Aarya taps her fingers on the armchair. “Out loud, November, say what you’re thinking out loud.”

I shake my head. “I’m just…I’ve never heard my dad recite a rhyme in my life, much less write one.”

Ash looks at the paper with me.

“Your nonrhyming father aside, we need to decipher the meaning,” Aarya says, and leans forward with a curious look, like she would take the paper from my hand if she could. “It’s a threat to Jag, that’s for certain. But clearly that’s not all. If it matches the other clues he’s left, then you should be able to understand it.”

“November?” Ash says.

I stare at the paper, hyperaware of the small time window and the insurmountable pressure. Nothing immediately jumps out at me, and so I read it again, but the words just swim on the page like nonsense. I huff. “Why is he making me chase clues about him over two damn continents?” I say, more to myself than to them. “Here I am trying to understand some absurd rhyme when I should be warning him that the Ferryman is closing in.”

Aarya grunts. “Are you kidding? If it were my dad, it would have been five continents, only to end up back where I started…annoyed.”

“My dad isn’t like most Strategia,” I say reflexively.

“Are you sure?” Aarya says in a tone that tells me she has her doubts. “Because testing children in frustrating and uncomfortable ways is about as Strategia-like as a parent gets. And I’m sorry to burst your rosy bubble, but he sent you to a Lion property and into a celebration hosted by Jag, of all people. He’s not exactly trying to keep you safe.”

I open my mouth to argue with her, angry that she would even suggest such a thing. The choices my dad’s made my entire life have been about keeping me safe. He loves me. He’s doing this for me. But given the recent chain of events, I’m also not sure she’s wrong.