With a triumphant grin, Winnie held up the completed box high in her palm. Though the puzzle pieces and frame had been big and unwieldy, at Winnie’s completion of the puzzle, the whole thing had shrunk down to a miniature version of itself.

“All in the wrist,” she said deliberately, and winked at Ahmad. “How’s that for using the art of distraction?”

“Nice job, Winnie!” Ahmad cried out in relief.

“No, no nice job!” the Architect snarled, stamping his feet. He looked wild, his usually neat and slicked-back hair standing on end. His kurta was wrinkled beyond recognition. For a moment, Ahmad felt a twinge of unease. “Ahmad Mirza, listen here. You mustn’t open that box. Do you hear me? I am the Architect and I am demanding that you don’t open that box.”

“Come on, Ahmad,” Winnie said, inching backward with the box neatly balanced in her hand. “Let’s go home.”

Ahmad glanced between the two for a moment. Why was Lord Amari so desperate?

But Winnie beckoned. On the sweet, aromatic air, he could almost get a whiff of home: Ma’s perfume, the warmth of it billowing about him as she pinched his cheeks and stuffed his mouth full of his favorite foods, and the spicy welcome of the kitchen, with his favorite masala chicken simmering on the stove.

“Let’s go home,” Ahmad said, stepping forward to join Winnie. Behind them, he could hear the MasterMind fall to her knees, hear the Architect roar, “Mirza, listen, please!”

But he focused on Winnie’s bright smile and the promise of the world he wanted to return to.

And he lifted the lid.

Nothing happened.

“Wait,” Winnie said, her brow furrowing. “What is—”

The Architect and the MasterMind were focused elsewhere, their gazes going right over Ahmad’s and Winnie’s heads.

“What is she doing here?” the MasterMind muttered. “The code should have uprooted her by now.”

Ahmad and Winnie whirled around. There was Madame Nasirah, and for the first time, she had lifted her veil. She was smiling, her cheeks full and round, her lips pink and plump. But her teeth were sharp as knives. Not quite what Ahmad had expected.

“Well done, Ahmad and Winnie. You completed the challenge.”

“What do you mean?” Ahmad demanded. “Nothing happened.”

Winnie took a step back. “This doesn’t feel good,” she whispered. “But why?”

“And why are you speaking so casually of treason, Gamekeeper?” The Architect stepped forward, his voice a snarl. “Have you been dealing your own challenges to players in my name? Answer me!”

From within the very depths of the woman’s form came an unholy chuckle. “You are one to talk of treason, aren’t you, Amari?”

The Architect’s face paled. “No. It can’t be.”