Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
EMORY
“ O h, great.” Driscoll dragged a hand down his face. “Who is this? The executioner, here to cut off our heads with his icy sword right in the middle of the street?”
Maverick stalked forward. Sweat sheened his umber-brown skin, his short black hair cropped close to his head, his copper eyes gleaming with annoyance—and maybe confusion? He frowned at all of us, fists curled at his sides.
Leoni leaned over to Driscoll and whispered out the side of her mouth. “Let’s strike now. While they’re distracted.”
My stomach twisted. They’d hit Maverick in the process. One of the greatest minds of our time.
My companions nodded at each other, pushing out their hands, tendrils of their magic creeping from them.
“Stop!” I yelled, shoving through them right as Maverick stopped in front of the guards. Everyone’s eyes turned to me.
“Why would you do that?” Driscoll groaned. “It was the perfect chance to get away.”
Maverick's gaze lowered to the chest I still held in my arms, and his brown eyes snapped up, searing into me. He was tall, shoulders broad, and even from under his coat, I could tell he was fit, muscular. He had to be to go on all the adventures he did.
“Sir!” The guards straightened, all of them saluting Maverick.
“What’s going on here?” Maverick barked.
“Lady Emory Growley is under arrest,” one of the guards said, cowering under Maverick’s menacing glare. “She’s been summoned to the castle.”
“Ugh, I knew it.” Driscoll dragged a hand over his tight curls. “He is the executioner, isn’t he?”
“No,” I said. “This is Maverick Von Lucas. Her Majesty’s personal scholar and historian.”
Even though we’d attended many events together, even though he’d been in my home just last night, this was the closest I’d ever stood to him. Here he was. Right in front of me...while I was on the run from the royal guards. I glanced down and my cheeks burned. And wearing a nightgown, nipples and all on display.
Driscoll gaped at Maverick. “I’m sorry, he’s a historian?” He jabbed a thumb at Maverick. “Him? Mr. Hotty McHotterson?”
Leoni sighed. “Here we go.”
The guards scratched their chins, and their confused gazes bounced between us all.
“What?” Driscoll threw up his hands as Maverick turned his glare onto him. “I’m just saying what we all must be thinking. This man is a piece of eye candy.” Driscoll’s eyes widened. “Did you really jump off that pirate ship into the ocean and then use driftwood and the sword to paddle to land?”
The guards stared at Maverick with curious gazes, waiting for an answer, which Maverick didn’t provide.
“What are you doing with that chest?” Maverick asked, ignoring everything Driscoll had just said.
I gripped it protectively but answered his question. “It’s mine.”
“It dates back to the Old World.” Maverick pointed to the etchings. “It can’t belong to you unless you’re telling me you’re somehow related to one of the millions of people who died during the Old World Catastrophe. ”
The event where every single person in the Old World disappeared, and no one knew why. We had theories, of course, many of those theories proposed by Maverick Von Lucas himself. Theories about how it was the Seven Spirits who killed all the people of the Old World, displeased by how they were misusing their magic. I didn’t agree with the theory in its entirety, but a lot of it was backed by historical evidence.
“No.” This was definitely not how I envisioned meeting my hero. “I’m not claiming to be related to anyone from the Old World. Obviously. I found the chest.” I winced. “So it’s mine.”
Maverick stepped closer, his intense gaze never wavering from mine. “That’s against the law, and you know it. Any artifacts found belong to the queen, and the academy by default.”
“I didn’t know it was a historical artifact.” A lie, and from the way Maverick’s eyes flashed, it seemed like he knew it.
“Sir, we’re under orders by Her Majesty to bring this woman to the castle for questioning,” one of the guards said tentatively, the four of them standing with hands hovered over the swords hanging from their belts.
Right. Because my husband was one of her ambassadors. Let’s not even get into the fact that she didn’t know I was the white rabbit. Yet.
Maverick huffed like the entire situation was an inconvenience to him.
Driscoll shivered. “Can we wrap this up? I’m getting cold.” He glanced down. “And I’d rather not lose any important parts to frostbite.”
“Hand the chest over, and then you can go to prison, where you clearly belong.” Maverick's gaze roamed over me dismissively.
My heart sank. He didn’t realize I was a historian, like him. All my hard work would be gone. Just like that. Because I’d been a complete and utter fool. I didn’t see any way out of this situation. For me or Leoni and Driscoll. Maybe Princess Poppy would intervene on their behalves. But she wouldn’t be able to save me, not when I stood accused of murder. I thought of all the valuables inside this chest that Maverick would discover. All the items I’d so painstakingly found. There were even more in the bunker by my house. Larger items I couldn’t fit in my chest that I’d hidden for safekeeping. At least those would be safe.
I glanced down at it, then back up to him as he held out his hand impatiently.
Something about his entire entitled, impatient demeanor made me want to be stubborn. To say no.
One of the guards stretched out their palms, those same ice shackles from before appearing and floating once again toward my hands.
Maverick reached out to grab the chest but stilled, the scarf around my neck catching his attention. Spirits below. I forgot I was wearing this thing. Of course he’d recognize it. His gaze slowly moved up to my face, eyes flashing with a look I couldn’t decipher. He stared at me in shock for so long, I started to wonder if I’d broken something in his brain.
“Change of plan. She’s coming with me,” Maverick said abruptly, turning to the guards.
The ice shackles stopped inches from closing around my wrists.
Driscoll pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a lot of whiplash for so early in the morning.”
Leoni frowned, eyes bouncing from me to Maverick to the guards like she had no idea what to do.
My eyebrows shot up. That wasn’t a terrible idea. I’d rather go with him than them. At least I’d have more time to plan an escape. Maverick wasn’t a guard. He was a scholar. I could work with that. Plus... did this mean I’d actually get to see the inside of the academy?
Probably not what should be on my mind at this moment.
The guards looked at each other uneasily. “That’s not what we were told?—”
“I’m the queen’s historical advisor,” Maverick said, voice sharp. “And if I want to bring someone in for questioning because they have priceless historical artifacts, then don’t you think Her Majesty would give me that leeway?”
The guard cleared his throat. “I suppose so, sir.”
Maverick gave a sharp nod of his head. “Then it’s settled. You can escort us to the academy, then escort them to the castle when I’m done questioning them about some of these”—his gaze flicked to the scarf wrapped around my neck—“unusual items.”
With that he spun on his heel and strode away, and I had no idea whether to be relieved or terrified. Possibly both.
“Does that mean we’re supposed to follow?” Driscoll gestured after him.
The guards grabbed us and shoved us forward. “I guess so,” I mumbled as we marched through the snow and straight toward the Academy of Scholars & Historians.