A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 4 Nevelyn Tin’vori

4 NEVELYN TIN’VORI

Nevelyn Tin’Vori felt most at home in a library.

When she was little, she used to sneak into her father’s study. His collection had been extensive. She would hoist herself onto the ledge above the lower cabinets and walk from end to end, her fingertips tracing the spines. They’d had their childhood home publicly returned to them—but all the books had been stolen. Every cabinet was emptied. The scavengers had come and gone over the years, picking the entire house clean. Down to the bone.

Lacking an alternative, Nevelyn walked to the nearest library every morning. It was in the opposite direction of the playhouse. Away from any trace of Garth. She visited the Safe Harbor district instead. Access to the library there was restricted, but Theo Brood had happily petitioned on her behalf. A kind gesture, even if it bordered on negligence.

After all, Nevelyn spent every hour in that library researching the Broods. She read through archaic business contracts. Squinted at the minutes of historical legislatures, hoping to see how they’d voted on various issues. Land purchases, leasing agreements, execution notices. It wasn’t dissimilar to the work they’d done in Ravinia. Their apartment closet had been papered from top to bottom. Even a whisper of the Brood name would have found its way onto that wall. They’d been so hungry for news that any scrap tasted good.

Now she had the opposite problem. An abundance. The meal that was on the table now felt so large that if she started eating it from the wrong direction, she’d never get to the best parts. That was her current task. Figuring out which books or essays possessed information of true value. Her task was made difficult by how public the Broods’ lives were. Society knew so many of the family’s sins. Not just whispers in back alleys. Documented atrocities. Most of them overlooked because for generations the Brood name had been synonymous with the city’s survival.

Nevelyn was not pursuing skeletons. No, she needed flaws in the machine that the Broods had built. Surely, they must exist. No family could grow that powerful—span that wide an empire—without unintentionally creating weaknesses. Nevelyn wanted to nestle into those cracks. Dig around. Maybe help them grow a bit wider. Week after week, she returned to the same library. Researching until she could barely keep her eyes open.

It took a month to find the first worthy curiosity.

She was at her favorite table. Documents sprawled the length of it. The title of the book that had her attention was In Defense of a City. The introduction was written like a story. It followed a specific point of view that Nevelyn eventually realized was Theo Brood’s grandfather. The account had been quite gripping, but now she saw it was a foreword. An introduction. One that invited her into the reading of yet another tiresome city contract.

She was on the verge of tossing the book aside when she saw the final pages. Every ten years, two separate parties signed this document. One was always a member of House Brood. She saw Theo’s grandfather, then his father. On and on through the decades. The other signee was a rotating list of Kathor’s viceroys. What truly caught Nevelyn’s eye, however, was the last entry. It was unfinished. The word “EXPIRED” had been etched across that entire section in someone else’s handwriting.

“What the hell…”

According to the record, the ten-year mark should have been two weeks ago. The contract had lapsed. Even though the Broods had signed it a dozen times over the course of more than a century—always on the exact same day—this time it had lapsed? That realization begged an absolutely crucial question. “What is this even for ?”

Nevelyn scanned back through the contents of the contract. Words like “civilian” and “domain” and “sovereign” threatened to drag her thoughts down into the mud. Nevelyn read the entire thing three times. It took that long to understand what she was reading. This was the city’s primary defense contract. The document that committed Kathor in good faith to their ongoing relationship with the Brood family. More specifically, it was the contract that gave the Broods permission to occupy, control, and profit from a number of publicly owned facilities.

Nevelyn had already found evidence of this strategy during her research. For the other great houses—the Shiverians, the Proctors, the Winters, and the Graylantians—private wealth was the heart of their endeavors. The Broods were not like them. They had been too busy protecting the city to accumulate piles of wealth. They were warriors and guardians, rather than builders or doctors. But they had wisely extracted promises from the wealthier houses they protected. A share of profits here. Free access to this canal or that theater. All in perpetuity.

Which meant this document was unique.

“Why didn’t you re-sign the contract?”

Her question was for an imagined version of Theo Brood. Or maybe even for Ren Monroe—who Nevelyn knew far better. She was not the sort of person to miss a detail. Especially not one as pivotal as this. From what Nevelyn could see, the unsigned contract would leave loyal Brood workers without access to some of the most functionally important facilities in the city. That alone made it feel like something that would bubble quickly to the surface of Brood’s attention. If his guards were being kept out of their normal workspaces, wouldn’t they report back to him?

There was one potential flaw in her discovery. The text she was reading was a bound manuscript. A copy that was magically linked to the original text, which was located elsewhere. Nevelyn knew the translating spells took time. And the older the documents got, the larger the gap between the original and the copy. She had no idea if the missing signature was still accurate.

This concern led her to the librarian.

During her visits, she’d never seen the man away from his desk. He looked as if he’d been nailed down in that chair a decade ago, and someone simply came to change out his wardrobe every few days. Today he wore one of his less frumpish cardigans. When Nevelyn cleared her throat and held out the book in question, he looked at her like she was offering him a plague.

“Yes?”

“This book. It’s bound to the original. I wanted to make sure it’s current.”

He stared at her. “Current?”

She nodded before setting the book on the desk in front of him. “Current, yes. There are contracts within the text that appear to be incomplete. I wanted to know if there might be a delay in the magic. Between the original and this one.”

“A delay?”

“Yes, a delay. Are you going to start using your own words, or are you planning on repeating mine for the remainder of the conversation?”

The man leaned back in his chair, incredulous. She was about to apologize when his face split into a grin. “You don’t have to make such a big fuss about it. Look, I maintain the magic here. If there’s a delay, it would be a reflection on my spells. It would mean I’m not taking time each week to update the charms that currently link my collection to the others around the city. Do I strike you as a man who does not maintain order?”

She squinted at him. “You have three different stains on that shirt.”

He glanced slowly down, and then belted out a laugh.

“Damn it. This is my favorite shirt, too.” He rubbed at the most glaring stain before looking up at her. “I visited the food stand for lunch. Just one of my many sins. Anyways. Everything in the library is current. I can show you how to check for yourself. That way next time, you don’t have to come here and be a brat about it.”

Nevelyn couldn’t help grinning. Were they becoming friends? With practiced care, the librarian flipped to the front of the book. There was a section with very small writing. She saw it had details about the book’s publication—and she also saw that there were details about the book’s physical location, first printing date, and more. His finger traced down to the very bottom line in that thicket of text.

“The magic was refreshed two hours ago. It’s current, dear.”

She accepted the book back from him. “Thank you. And I’m not your dear .”

The two of them exchanged smirks before Nevelyn retreated back to her section of the library. A small thrill filled her steps. This was something. It might be something. At least until Theo Brood realized his error and amended it. Now she just needed to know which buildings around the city were currently unoccupied. The next hour saw her feverishly turning the pages of various reference books. She managed to identify seven books that would have the information she needed. Rather than spend the evening hunting them down, she took the list back to her new friend.

“You never mentioned your name,” Nevelyn noted.

“A good librarian never would. We are neutral arbiters of information. Faceless servants of the masses. It is not our duty to be known….”

Nevelyn rolled her eyes.

“Oh fine. My name is Robert.”

“Suits you.”

He smiled before adjusting his reading glasses and eyeing her list. She watched as he flipped through a massive reference book. It served as a catalogue of all the texts in the library’s possession—as well as a detailed account of patron activity.

“The first one isn’t here,” Robert said, already turning the pages. He hummed a small tune to himself. “And the second one…”

Already claimed. So was the third, and the fourth. Nevelyn found herself nodding along as Robert quietly confirmed that every single book on her list was in someone else’s possession.

“All by the same person, too,” Robert said. “You must be studying the same subject.”

Nevelyn craned her neck. “Who has them?”

Robert smiled as if her question was a joke. When Nevelyn did not laugh, he shook his head like a man who’d just stepped through cobwebs. “I can’t share that information. There are privacy laws that protect the patrons here. I could lose my position.”

“Perhaps you could take a bathroom break,” Nevelyn suggested. “For just a moment.”

That was all it took to ruin their friendship. Robert’s playful expression shut down.

“It isn’t permitted. Do not ask it of me again.”

He turned away from her, looking forlorn. Like the opportunity to make a new friend had slipped through his fingers. She watched him close the reference book before resuming his own work. Nevelyn retreated back to her corner of the library. It would not do. She had to know the name of the person who’d borrowed the exact set of books she wanted.

After the briefest of hesitations, Nevelyn reached for the heart-shaped charm dangling against her collarbone. She turned it so the dark side was facing out—then went right back to the librarian’s desk. Before Robert could look up, she pushed her magic in his direction. Do not see me. Look elsewhere. Behold me not. The older man’s head jerked unnaturally to the left. His eyes fixed on the window that overlooked a courtyard outside. She knew he would sit there transfixed for another thirty seconds. More than enough time. Nevelyn flipped back to one of the pages she’d seen him inspect. Her finger traced down the page until it landed on a familiar title. On that same line, the patron who’d checked out the book.

Ren Monroe.

That had to be wrong. Was she imagining the name? Even though she could feel the tension of her maintained spell starting to grow fraught—Nevelyn turned to another page. Searching. She had to confirm the truth. Sure enough, the next entry matched the first.

Ren Monroe.

A moment’s hesitation—and then Nevelyn ripped the page out. The sound nearly dragged Robert’s attention back to her. She could see the way his body wanted to resist the magic. It was time for her to leave. Before this all went awry. Nevelyn shoved the page into her pocket, closed the reference book, and glided toward the exit. Only when she was safely in the outer alcove did she release the spell—gasping as the tension in her shoulders began to unknot. Both of her hands shook, but she didn’t have time to recover. There was one more detail she needed to check.

Nevelyn skipped her favorite market stalls on the way home. She did not dally by her favorite storefronts. Instead, she bustled through the front door of their home and started immediately up the steps. Ava called from the kitchen. Nevelyn ignored her. There was a lonely-looking dresser in the corner of her bedroom. She opened the top drawer and fished through the various trinkets until she found what she was looking for.

It was the note Ren Monroe had written her last year. She unfolded the ripped entry from the reference book and held them both up to the light. The handwriting didn’t match.

Someone else had the books.

“… lose your hearing?!”

Nevelyn whipped around. “What?”

“I’ve been shouting for you,” Ava said. “There’s a visitor.”

There was a brief slash of a second where Nevelyn thought it might be Garth. But of course it wasn’t Garth. He was dead. Buried just outside her window. If she looked, she could see the small mound of his grave—but she never looked. Her eyes cut back to Ava instead.

“Why would there be a visitor? You’re not supposed to let anyone in.”

“I didn’t let him in,” Ava said. “I found him lurking in the gardens.”

Nevelyn frowned. “Spying?”

“Maybe,” Ava replied. “It’s hard to say. He’s kind of… small for a spy.”

“Small how?”

“What do you mean small how ? Physically small. He’s a child, Nevelyn.”

It was hard to process that response. One part of her had been hoping for Garth. The other part had been dreading the thought that Ren Monroe might show up. Their former partner had a knack for appearing whenever her name was mentioned. Like a spirit who’d been summoned. For some reason, the idea of a child waiting for her was the only more disturbing possibility.

“I don’t like children,” she muttered as she passed Ava.

The two of them took the stairs together. Her sister’s hair was slowly growing back. She’d kept it trimmed short during her time in Nostra. It was not quite shoulder length yet—which meant it still wasn’t quite long enough for her to walk the streets of Kathor without being recognized. Nevelyn knew her sister was growing restless, but the decision to remain hidden had been Ava’s idea. It would only be a few more weeks before she could roam more freely.

“You know, I wouldn’t just let someone in,” Ava said, clearly annoyed. “I did manage to survive for two whole years without you pecking me up and down like some sort of mother hen.”

Nevelyn nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Old habits.”

It was so good to have Ava back, but they couldn’t let anyone else know she’d returned safely. After the dust had settled with the Broods, Dahvid had made an official inquiry. What had happened to Theo’s castellan? Dahvid had revealed that the girl was in fact their sister. They’d offered Brood a carefully rehearsed story. Why had they chosen to hide her existence? Well, if the two of them died during the attack, they’d wanted one Tin’Vori to survive. Theo had put on quite a show in return. His claim was that Dahl Winters—as he had known her—vanished right after the army passed through Nostra. He claimed that he had not seen the girl since.

It would have been a perfectly reasonable lie if Ava wasn’t alive to counter it. She had ported directly to the Tin’Vori estate and told them the entire story. How close she’d been to killing Brood. How Ren Monroe had appeared out of nowhere to save him. They’d walked back through the details a hundred times, all of them confused by Ren’s ability to be in two places at once, but in the end, all that mattered was that they’d agreed to keep Ava hidden. If Theo and Ren believed their sister was dead, it was like having a piece on the game board that no one knew about. Now it was simply a matter of making the right moves.

The two of them reached the landing. Nevelyn glanced around the room.

“Is the child also invisible?”

Ava rolled her eyes. “He’s still out back.”

Frowning, Nevelyn followed her sister. The sun was bleeding toward the horizon. She could see the clay-red light pressing through the great run of windows along the back of their house. And she could also see the boy in question. He was very small. Nevelyn had been expecting, or perhaps hoping, for someone over the age of twelve. Someone that age could at least be spoken to and dealt with in a reasonable manner. But as they stepped outside, she saw that he was no older than eight or nine.

“Why didn’t you just tell him to leave?” Nevelyn whispered.

The sound of her voice must have carried. Just enough to be heard. The boy turned—and Nevelyn saw why Ava had not asked him to leave. The shape of his face. The thick limbs and the wide shoulders. He even had Garth’s deep-set eyes. But when he turned, his face didn’t frame itself in that lovely smile she remembered. Instead, his eyebrows knitted together in suspicion.

“You’re Nan,” he said.

Nevelyn could barely breathe. She felt Ava hovering beside her.

“Nevelyn. My real name is Nevelyn.”

The boy studied her. His dark hair tossed slightly in the wind. He reached a small hand up to swipe it away from his eyes. “My brother liked you.”

Those words struck her square in the chest. An unintentional reminder that Garth was gone. He had liked her. Once. Before. Never again. But the word that eventually drifted to the surface of her mind was “brother.” She hadn’t been certain at first glance. Garth had always felt like he was the same age as her, but she’d never bothered to ask. It had been possible that this was his son. Now she had an answer. The two were siblings.

“Where are your parents?”

The boy’s eyes fell to his feet. “Mum’s no good. Dad was worse. Garth took me in as soon as he found a place of his own.”

“He lived in an apartment. Near the theater. Is that where you live?”

The boy’s chin dipped even farther. “They told me I couldn’t stay.”

“They who?”

“Paladins,” the boy said. “Garth wasn’t paying the rent. Our landlord reported me. The paladins came and said I have to leave. I told them it wasn’t fair, because Garth was dead. That’s when they took me away. To one of those places with all the other kids.”

Nevelyn exchanged a glance with Ava.

“An orphanage?”

He nodded, but still wouldn’t make eye contact. She did not need to ask him how he liked it there. She could guess. The three of them had passed through plenty of orphanages after leaving Kathor. Nearly every time problems would find them. An abusive nurse. A gang of boys who wanted to put Dahvid’s strength to the test. One place had been infested with tiny, flesh-eating bugs. Their skin had itched for weeks afterward. Nevelyn knew those places were rarely full of light. At least not enough light for a quiet boy like this.

“What’s your name?”

“Josey.”

Nevelyn nodded. “How’d you find me, Josey?”

The boy fished through the pockets of his coat. There was a thick-cut paper, folded many times over, with small rips and a number of stains. He unfolded it with such tender care. As if it were a map that might lead to treasure. But when he showed her its contents, she saw it was not of a place—but a person.

“Whoa,” Ava said. “Is that you?!”

Nevelyn saw herself in the delicate brushstrokes too, but it was like seeing herself as Garth had seen her. Her hair was not the unruly nest she’d always imagined, but a waterfall of dark curls. He’d captured her shape, too. He had not imagined her any differently than she was. The fullness of her was there on the page, something cherished and lovely. In the image, she was bending slightly. Reaching for something. Nevelyn’s heart caught in her chest. It was the mail wall from the opera house. A stolen glimpse from their past. A past that had no possibility of a future.

“Gods,” she muttered. “I didn’t even know he could draw.”

Josey cleared his throat. “I looked for you. In the markets. Every day. One day, you walked past the theater. I wasn’t sure it was you, but I… I followed you. Here.”

She stared at him, unable to say anything at all.

“I thought if you liked him, maybe you’d like me, too.”

There was enough sincerity in his voice to shatter Nevelyn’s heart all over again. She imagined him searching for her each day. Imagined him folding up that portrait, sneaking through their backyard, and knocking on their back door—hoping someone in this world might care for him. She was not one for physical touch, but she held out her hand. He took it without hesitation.

“Are you hungry?” she whispered.

Her touch seemed to unlock him. Almost like he’d been guarding himself until he was certain what her answer would be. He started rattling off his favorite and least favorite foods. His hand was so small and warm. She couldn’t help thinking of the way Garth’s hand had swallowed hers. How safe it made her feel. Now it was her turn to be that for someone.

“Take a seat over there. We’ll get you fed.”

She gave his hand a quick squeeze before releasing him. Nevelyn started pulling out ingredients. Ava rustled through the other drawers helpfully. Outside, the sun was setting over the harbor. The boy threw his elbows on the table and then lowered his chin into the crook of his crossed arms. Like he was too tired to sit up straight for even a second longer. Nevelyn’s and Ava’s eyes met. They spoke without speaking. Ava set down the knife she’d been chopping carrots with.

“I’ll go get his room ready.”

Nevelyn nodded once. Darkness was creeping over the yard outside. Shadowing the three graves there. Before she could even finish cutting the rest of the vegetables, the boy was snoring softly. Which was a kindness. It meant no one was there to watch as she began to weep.