Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
EMORY
A s many times as I’d passed the academy, I’d never been permitted to enter. Only students and teachers had that privilege. Now I sat in Maverick's office in awe of this place. I was here. In the actual Academy of Scholars maybe he wanted to bring my chest of artifacts to the academy directly. I supposed it didn’t matter. He’d given me the gift of time, and I needed to use it.
Maverick stood outside the door, speaking in hushed tones with the guards, while Leoni and Driscoll sat on either side of me, both of them staring at our surroundings.
A large glass desk sat in front of us, everything in its place, neat, organized. Parchment sat in a stack on the corner, next to it, an array of pens for annotating and highlighting. An ink pot sat at the top of the parchment to refill the pens. A magnifying glass lay to the side of the pens, everything else clean, sparkling, immaculate. And there sat my chest. Right in the middle. Glasses perched on the opposite side of the table, and I imagined Maverick wearing them, sitting here long after the sun had sunk, poring over texts and examining artifacts, just like I did in my secret bunker.
I let out a gasp when I saw what was behind the desk: bookshelves spanning from the floor to the ceiling, shoved with books and texts of all kinds.
I stood from my chair and walked toward the shelves, letting my fingers trail over the book spines in wonder. All this knowledge, right at your fingertips. It was unbelievable. Something I could only dream of.
“Are you supposed to be doing that?” Driscoll asked from his chair.
Leoni slumped further into hers. “She murdered her husband, ran from the crime scene, and assaulted a royal guard. Not to mention she’s stolen priceless artifacts. I don’t think touching a few books is going to make much of a difference at this point.”
I swallowed at all the accusations she’d hurled my way.
“Allegedly murdered,” Driscoll pointed out. Leoni glared at him, and he snapped his mouth closed.
“I just got the position of captain of the guard, and now I’m going to lose it because of you.” She set her gaze on me.
“I didn’t murder my husband,” I said.
Leoni raised a brow. “And all the other accusations?”
I straightened my shoulders. Well, those I couldn’t deny, but I was not going to let her ruin this moment. I spun around and my gaze landed on a book with a blue spine. I’d heard of this one. It contained supposed diary entries from a farmer who’d lived in the Old World, documenting his crops slowly dying as the world around him fell apart. It was one of the few primary sources we had about the actual end of the Old World and demise of its people. And it was just sitting here. For me to read.
My hand hovered in the air. Leoni was right. I was already doomed, so I might as well enjoy my last moments of freedom. I grabbed the book and slid it out.
“You’re reading right now?” Driscoll asked as I slowly opened the journal.
Then disappointment welled up in me when I realized it was in a different language. Othala: the language of the Old World. Which I didn’t know because only those who attended the academy were taught how to read it.
“What are you doing?” a quiet voice asked.
I spun to see Maverick in the office, door closed behind him. He’d discarded his coat, and it hung on a hook behind him. Now he stood in his grey fitted trousers, his white shirt tucked in, suspenders strapped over his broad shoulders. He rubbed his stubbled jaw, that, along with his muscular chest, made him look rugged. Maverick Von Lucas. I was standing in his office. I was meeting one of the most famous scholars on the continent of Arathia.
He stalked forward, and a breath caught in my throat as he stopped right in front of me, his gaze dipping to my thin nightgown, then trailing slowly to the book clutched in my hand. He reached down, hand brushing mine, then snatched the book from me and shoved it onto the shelf over my head, face now inches from mine.
“Why would someone like you want to read a book like that?” he asked, voice low.
“What, ladies can’t read?” I asked.
His gaze never left mine, and he was so close I could see the copper tone to his brown eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. That book you were holding, that you were flipping through, why did you pick it up?”
I swallowed, remembering that to him, I was just Lord Growley’s wife, and I needed to act more like it if I wanted to get out of here. The last thing I needed was Maverick Von Lucas discovering my secret identity. Then I’d most definitely be doomed.
“Told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Driscoll mumbled.
Maverick stared at me with assessing eyes, and I cleared my throat and shrugged. “Pretty cover. The blue reminded me of the sky on a stormy day.”
Maverick just huffed and gestured to the empty chair between Driscoll and Leoni, and I scuttled backward, sinking into it as he sat in his own padded leather chair behind his desk. He rolled the white sleeves of his button-up tunic, revealing his muscled forearms riddled with scars and burn marks. He leaned forward and steepled his hands together.
I thought he was going to speak, to ask me questions, to maybe reprimand me for the objects I’d stolen. Instead, all he did was stare. Not at Leoni. Not at Driscoll. At me.
I squirmed in my chair under his scrutiny. I didn’t understand what in the Seven Spirits he found so interesting about me. Maybe it was my nightgown. That was probably it, and it made me angry.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not just a pretty object to be ogled.”
Driscoll leaned over and whispered, “You could use that to your advantage. Maybe just tug that nightgown a little lower.”
I scoffed.
Leoni reached over the back of my chair and smacked Driscoll in the head. “I’m going to start a sleaze jar,” she said. “Every time you say something outrageous, you have to add a coin to it.”
Driscoll scowled. “I always say outrageous things.”
“Perfect.” Leoni leaned back in her seat. “I’ll be rich, and maybe it will teach you to think more before you speak.”
“Sounds boring,” Driscoll responded.
Maverick was going to throw us in prison just to get them to stop bickering.
But he ignored them both, reaching across the table and lifting one end of the scarf still wrapped around my neck. His gaze seared into me while the scarf glittered under the rays of the sun. “Where did you get this?”
My heart wrenched at the question because it wasn’t about where I got it that made this scarf so special. It was about why I kept it in my chest full of my most treasured artifacts. About the fact that this scarf reminded me of the first time I’d ever met the bone collector. Who I hadn’t seen in almost two years, all because I’d ruined our friendship. Pushed away the only friend I had. Possibly the only person in this world who ever understood me. Tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked them away. Except I couldn’t say any of that to Maverick Von Lucas. First, because he wouldn’t understand, and second, because I wouldn’t compromise the bone collector like that.
I opened my mouth, realizing I still hadn’t answered Maverick’s question about where I got the scarf, then decided I didn’t have to. I snapped my mouth closed and raised my chin .
Maverick rubbed his stubbled jaw, frustration coiled in his shoulders. “I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving on a trip in a few hours, and I’ll likely be gone for months.” He leaned forward and pushed the chest out of the way. “So save us both the trouble and tell me where you got the scarf. Where you got all of these objects. Did you steal them from someone?”
A desperation laced his voice that I didn’t quite understand.
I ignored his question. “Where are you going?”
“We’re going to prison if you don’t answer his question.” Driscoll threw up his hands. “Who am I kidding? We’re going to prison either way.”
“It’s none of your business where I’m going.” Maverick pressed his hands onto the glass table. “Where did you get this? Was it from her? From the white rabbit?”
I reeled back at his use of my secret name. Of course Maverick Von Lucas would have heard of the white rabbit since he worked directly with the queen, but the fact that he knew these objects belonged to her... I was in more trouble than I’d realized.
I should’ve just answered his questions. But after a lifetime of doing what I was told and gaining absolutely nothing from it, I was sick and tired of obeying.
I raised my chin. “Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll tell you where I got the scarf.”
I didn’t know why it mattered so much, but for some reason it did. Just being here in the academy filled me with so much anguish. I yearned for this life Maverick lived, wanted it so badly it burned through my ice-filled veins. If he was going on some adventure to find a new historical artifact, I wanted to know about it. To sit in this office and dream of the life I could have had if things had turned out differently for me. For just a few moments before those guards took me away to prison, where I’d likely be for a long, long time.
There he went, staring at me again. Did this man have a problem? Or was he just a pervert? But he wasn’t staring at my nipples, which were absolutely visible through my thin nightgown. His eyes never left my face. Just studying me with this perplexed expression like I was a puzzle he couldn’t figure out.
“So it’s a game you want to play?” he said slowly, carefully. It felt like this was a test of some sort. He gave a subtle nod. “Then let the games begin.”
I peered at him, the words he’d just said reverberating in my mind. Not just the words. The tone. The cadence. The playfulness. My entire body went rigid.
Driscoll looked at Leoni. “Do you know what’s happening between them right now?”
Suddenly, I was in another time, another place, where we’d said those exact words to each other the first time we’d met.
My gaze locked onto Maverick's frowning face. It couldn’t be. This had to be a coincidence. The feeling stirring in my gut told me otherwise. It told me he was exactly who I thought he was. His voice, his words... my gaze dipped down to his hands laying flat on the desk, his forearms... even those looked familiar. How many times had I seen the bone collector use them when we’d been vying for the same artifact or relic? When we’d been playing our game?
I could barely breathe. Barely think. If I was right, it could only mean one thing.
Maverick Von Lucas was the bone collector.