Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
EMORY, SIX YEARS AGO
I grunted as I lifted another heavy rock from the pile sitting outside the cave. Of all my dumb ideas, this one was truly the dumbest. I’d read about an avalanche of rocks that had happened nearly a thousand years ago, killing multiple sky elementals from the Old World, and I just couldn’t help myself. Actual evidence of the Old World Catastrophe—otherwise known as the end of the Old World. If I found bones, let alone something amazing like a journal or clothing or jewelry, it would be a huge discovery. I lifted my lantern higher, trying to angle it just right so that I could see the progress I’d made.
Very little, as it would turn out. There was no way I’d be able to get through these rocks in one night. It would take multiple visits, likely over a series of months. I lifted another heavy rock and threw it.
The wind whistled around me, chilly and refreshing. I lifted my face. Thankfully my husband was away in Apolis for a few weeks, giving me more freedom to pursue my new hobby.
I hadn’t meant to stay here so late into the night. But I’d gotten carried away, excited by this new prospect that lay out before me. A few more rocks. I’d heave a few more from their place and then head home before the servants grew too suspicious. Though they’d never suspect this. They’d likely think I was having an affair, not that uncommon. I lifted another rock and down it went, tumbling away and thudding into the soft green grass of the highlands surrounding me. It wasn’t like I’d ever actually have an affair. I’d only been married half a year and already hated it, hated my husband, but I wouldn’t stray from our marriage. I’d made a commitment, and I would stay true to it.
It was the least I could do to honor my mother, to honor her dream for me. The dream that she’d never see now.
My hands, sore with blisters, wrapped around another heavy stone when a sliver of wood peeked through. I gasped and dug through the rocks, pushing them aside. A box lay there in the rubble. I gripped the smooth wood, pulling it out and examining its chestnut top.
A voice cut through the air. “Hello, little rabbit.”
I stilled, clutching the box tighter as that low timbre sent a shiver down my spine. It was a clever nickname given my white fur cloak, but I wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Are you a stalker or something?” I asked without turning around. “Not very original, I have to say.”
He tsked, and still, I didn’t turn.
The sun had sunk below the horizon, a band of purple streaking across the dark sky, the faint outline of stars emerging overhead.
I slowly turned, and a man stood at the bottom of the pile of rocks. He wore a black cloak, hood covering his head and hanging far enough over to keep his face, any identifiable features, hidden. Same as me with my fur cloak.
“What do you want?” I asked, still sitting atop the tall pile of rocks, clutching the box tight. “To turn me in? Do you work for the frost queen or something?”
She’d caught wind of my extracurricular activities, and for whatever reason, had decided to make it her personal mission to catch me. Never mind there were actual murderers out there, threats looming in other courts, pedophiles, but sure, focus on me and my harmless hobby.
“Maybe I’m a fan,” the man said, which took me aback.
I’d been doing this for exactly six months, started the day after my mother died. But no one had seen me, noticed me. Which was the way I preferred it.
“A fan of what, exactly?” I asked.
He shrugged, and even though a cloak covered him, I could tell his shoulders were broad. “You’re a treasure hunter. You collect hard-to-find objects.”
“Have you been watching me?” The thought gave me chills. If he’d seen me, I had to wonder who else might have.
“Maybe just a little,” he said, amusement in his voice.
I slid down the pile of rocks with as much grace as I could. “Well, you can stop. I have no interest in whatever it is you want. If you’re going to turn me in, then do it now. Get it over with.”
I’d fight him, of course, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to slip the hood from my head, find out my identity. Ruin my life. Not that it was much of a life to ruin.
“I told you, I’m a fan.”
I rolled my eyes. “What do you want? My autograph? I’m not interested in having a fan. I’m interested in being left alone.”
He stepped forward. “Are you sure about that?”
This man was getting on my nerves. “Yes, I am.”
“I’ve got a better idea.”
Of course he did. Like every other man he thought he knew best. Typical.
“A game,” he said. “A competition. Every year, we meet at a different historical site to hunt for an artifact. Whoever gets it wins.”
“Wins what?” I asked.
“Well, the object,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And gloating rights for the entire next year.”
This was absurd. I couldn’t believe he’d thought of this. “So it’s a game you want to play?” I asked. “Why?”
“Oh, come on.” He took a step forward, his black cloak fluttering behind him, revealing black trousers that hugged thick thighs. “I’ve seen you. Your drive. Your passion. Your excitement. I bet you’re competitive too. I bet this would inject some thrill into this hobby of yours.”
He was right again and that was really beginning to irk me.
He raised his hands in the air. “We’ll have rules of course. No personal information is ever exchanged. We won’t seek out each other’s identities. We won’t seek each other out outside of the competition.”
I raised a brow, even though he couldn’t see it. “Does that mean no more sneaking up on me like this?”
He tipped his head, the shadow of his hood extending further over his chin. “I think you like it a little more than you’re admitting.”
“I don’t,” I said, voice dry. “What are the other rules?”
“We keep it clean when we compete. No fighting dirty.”
“So I can’t knee you in the balls?” I asked.
“That would be correct.”
I studied my nails, caked with dirt. “Mm, pity. But I guess it makes sense. Who picks the location? And if we don’t ever meet outside of the competition, then how will we communicate?”
“We’ll use a neutral place to drop notes that give all the details needed. As for the location... I propose we make a list of famous artifacts that haven’t been excavated for various reasons: location, risk, danger, you know, all the fun stuff.”
Now that was intriguing.
“We drop the artifact names into a jar, hide the jar, and then every year we meet and pick an artifact. We both find out at the same time what we’re after. Maybe we give ourselves a month to prepare, then we meet at the site of the artifact on a chosen day. First person to get away with it wins.”
Very, very intriguing.
His head tilted down, and I realized he must be studying the box I’d found.
I drew it to me protectively.
“Do you know what that is?” he asked.
“Well, I was on my way to figuring it out before you interrupted me.”
He laughed. “You have to use your magic to open it. It’s a special lock that only responds to elemental magic.”
That was clever and gave me an idea for a way to secure my bunker where I kept all my hidden artifacts—except my most special ones. Those got to go in a box hidden in my house.
He held out his hand and fire streamed from his fingertips. I tensed, worried his magic would set the box on fire, but he directed it right at the little black lock. The box clicked open to reveal a beautiful blue scarf, shimmering with a dust I’d never seen before. It sparkled and glittered, coated the inside of the box.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Congratulations,” he said. “I think you just found a scarf made by Spirit Sky for one of his lovers. It’s been documented in several ancient texts, but no one has ever been able to find it.”
My gaze snapped up at the same time I snapped the box shut. He sounded a little too interested in my find.
He chuckled. “I’m not here to steal from you,” he said. “So what do you say about my proposal? You in? Or am I going to have to find another treasure hunter to play my game?”
“Okay,” I said before I had too much time to think about it, had too much time to ruminate on all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. “We have a deal.”
He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. I hesitantly reached my own hand out and placed it in his. His grip was warm, a tingle spreading through me at the contact.
He gave my hand one firm shake before letting go. “Then let the games begin.”