the painting. “It looks to me as if they’re waiting at the altar.”
“In Castle of the Grail, the Fisher King, the King of the Grail, has been wounded by an act of unlawful love and lies under a spell. Although the Grail appears in front of them, they cannot see it. Until Galahad, the most blameless knight arrives. He sees a damsel with a golden Dish, two knights with the candlesticks, a knight holding a bleeding Spear, and the bearer of the Cup. Galahad must ask what these things denote. The first time, he does not, and the Castle continues to suffer for his silence. On his second visit, many years later, he asks the questions and is finally rewarded.”
I traced the painting in the air. “The golden dish— doesn’t that look like the sun? It’s a golden circle. The bleeding spear is the Fisher King’s trident. The Cup—we already know that’s the apple—”
“We do?” Doppelganger-Matt said.
“It’s under a red shroud in the first picture. Red for apple.”
“And the candlesticks?”
I squinted at the painting. “Don’t candles mean divine light?”
Calm sea-eyes fixed on me again. “Divine light or celestial light… a sign of Kronos?”
I frowned. “What does all this tell us, though? Why these paintings?”
“The paintings are not the point. It’s the story they are telling. It’s been told over and over again… for a reason.”
I tilted my head to look up at the straight line of his jaw. “Tell us what?”
“I had hoped you’d have that figured out for me by now.”
“I’ve been unconscious for most of the week.”
“A sorry excuse,” he deadpanned.
I stuck my tongue out at him. “Do your own work.”
Before I knew it, I was being yanked to him. My tongue captured by his mouth in a wild kiss. It didn’t last long. A loud harrumph by an elderly man had me pushing him away, despite being nearly blinded by my own hunger.
“Do you want to eat?” he said.
“Uh” was all I managed as a reply.
“The library will be closing in five minutes, please take your selections to the checkout desk,” intoned a voice above us.
“It’s later than I thought.” He grabbed my wrist and led me out of the gallery. We dodged a few slow-moving strollers on the stairs.
I went willingly until we reached the mezzanine level. “Wait, where are you taking me?”
“There’s this dance.”
I halted. “I don’t have a dress.”
He tugged me forward. “It’s in the limo.”
I stared at him. “You hired a limo.”
“You asked.”
I bit my lip. This didn’t seem like the smartest idea. Under his fine suit and civilized glamour, an untamed monster lurked.
I didn’t get a chance to refuse. Doppelganger-Matt hurried me along an open balcony toward stairs to the first floor. I went while still debating the question. I gave myself until we reached the front of the building to make up my mind. In the courtyard, a toddler broke away from his family and hurled himself into an outgoing stream of people. They surrounded him, cutting him off from his family. His face screwed up to let out a wail. I moved to go to the boy, but Doppelganger-Matt beat me to it. If I hadn’t been so aware of him I wouldn’t have noticed the slight movement of his hand. A subtle breeze parted the wave of people, creating a clear path between the boy and his frantically searching parents. The father spotted him first and ran to his son with a happy cry.
“Stop dawdling,” Doppelganger-Matt told me gruffly and led me out.
I didn’t say a word when we came out of the building. I also didn’t turn and take off toward the subway. A white limo pulled up to the curb to meet us. Doppelganger-Matt didn’t wait for the driver. Opening the door, he quickly packed me inside.
Inside the limo, he handed me a wrapped sandwich. “Eat.”
“I can’t go to prom—” With you, Vane.
“Don’t worry. You’ll look fine. You have an appointment at a salon in a few minutes.” Taking the sandwich from my hands, he unwrapped it and thrust the bread under my nose. “It’s your favorite.”
It was. Hummus and cucumber on wheat. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I’d forgotten breakfast. The smell of crisp cucumbers took me back to Sri Lanka for a second. Matt had only fed me under protest. I took a bite of the sandwich. It tasted hot and sweet and freshly made. “How did you know?”
“It’s not hard to remember a sandwich,” he said dryly.
I took another big bite. “What are