Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
MAVERICK, FIVE YEARS AGO
O ne year. It had been almost one year since I’d seen the white rabbit.
We’d met a few weeks after our first encounter in the highlands, then we’d drawn an artifact, and the games had begun.
She’d bested me in our first competition, stealing Spirit Frost’s coveted chalice, then bounding away with glee—and leaving me frozen in a giant ice block. It had taken almost all my magic to melt that damn thing and get free.
“See you next year,” she’d said.
And I’d spent this last year thinking of her far more than I liked. Especially when what I needed was to focus on my job. Not some mysterious woman. I had no idea why I was doing this. Why I was risking everything to compete with the white rabbit. All I knew was that I liked it.
Now I paced in the Draje Forest, a wintry mix of wind, snow, and rain pelting me. It didn’t matter how many layers I wore in this spirits-forsaken court, I still managed to freeze. It didn’t help that she was late. Maybe she’d changed her mind in the last year. Decided she no longer wanted to play our little game. The thought shouldn’t have disappointed me like it did.
“Miss me?”
A smile came to my face. I had, actually. Which was weird considering I barely knew the woman. Yet I felt a kinship with her, a respect for her.
I turned, snow flurries blurring the space between us. A scarf covered the lower half of her face, the upper half obscured by her hood. I’d started wearing a scarf as well. Not only to protect me from the damn cold, but because we agreed it would be smart to keep our identities as secret as possible.
“Ready to be bested again?” she asked, but her words felt off. None of that typical bite to them.
“Maybe I let you get that chalice last year,” I said, stepping closer to her.
“Sure you did.” She crossed her arms, her cloak billowing around her while the wind howled, and I could see that she wore a thick sky-blue wool dress that hung down over brown boots with laces. Not cheap clothes, by any means. Which made me wonder if she had money. I shouldn’t have been wondering. No personal details. That had been our agreement.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She pointed to the tree next to us, carved with a rabbit and a bone. “Let’s just get the jar, okay?”
“Something wrong, little rabbit?”
She scoffed. “You think I’d tell you if it was?”
Fair point, but it bothered me, thinking that something, or someone, may have hurt her. Or maybe she was just having a bad day. I shouldn’t have wanted to hear about it, but I did.
“Then don’t give me details.” Tree branches rustled around us, swaying with the wind. I tugged my hood down farther. “Tell me the summarized version.”
It was an exercise I gave my students. So many of them got bogged down with details of historical events, unable to see past it all to the bigger picture. So I’d often ask them to take everything they read and summarize it. Into a neat little paragraph. Many times, it was enough to get them out of their heads and better able to understand the historical context. Then we could dive deeper into the issues, the details to round out the picture. The other professors balked at my methods, claimed I coddled the students. I’d just gotten the job, and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to lose it already. Which meant going back home to my father. Something I had no desire to do. Not when I’d finally gotten free.
“It doesn’t matter,” the white rabbit said, her voice reminding me of chiming bells. “Let’s just get the jar and pick our next artifact.”
She was stubborn, this one. I’d wear her down eventually. To what end, I didn’t know. I could never reveal my identity to her. And I assumed there was a reason she could never reveal hers to me. There was no point in trying to wear her down or get her to reveal more about herself. It would never lead to anything. Yet I just couldn’t help myself.
“Well, it’s a big deal to me. Can’t have you distracted. Kind of ruins the competitive element to our little game. So out with it.” I gestured toward her. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
She hesitated, and I wondered if she’d refuse again. Tell me to go fuck myself. Her shoulders rose under her white fur cloak as she took a deep breath. “It’s the two-year anniversary of my mother’s death.”
Oh, shit. “I’m sorry. Were you close?” I winced because it shouldn’t matter. Grief was grief, and even though I hated my own father, I didn’t know how I’d feel if he died. If I’d be sad or relieved. Either way, it would be hard.
“My father was basically absent from my life,” she said, and I could hear the wobble in her voice. “Focused on his career, coming home to check on my progress and make sure I was being the good little daughter I was supposed to be. He died when I was ten years old. My mother, however, she was present.” She hesitated like she was choosing her words carefully. “Too present. She watched my every move, had... expectations of me.”
“Did you meet those expectations?” I asked. I knew all about parental expectations.
She wrung her hands together, her skin so pale, her skin so smooth and delicate. “I did. She died proud, all her dreams for me fulfilled. So I guess that’s what truly mattered.”
I scratched my head through the back of my hood. “Do you want to do this another time? We don’t have to?— ”
“No,” she interrupted. “This is good. It’s the distraction I need.”
“Okay.” Now that she’d given me those small details about her life, little morsels, I was hungry for more.
But no. This could never be anything more than the game we played. No matter how intriguing she was. So I’d better make the most of it.
I gestured to the tree. “Go ahead.”
She brushed past me and I caught her scent in the air, alpine and pale blossoms. It wasn’t like the storm that whirled around us, but like the calm that came after. Like waking up after a night of heavy snowfall and stepping outside to take a deep breath. Refreshing and subtle.
She grabbed the little circle of wood we’d cut from the tree, sliding it out and revealing a small nook where our jar sat. “I chose last time.” She plucked out the glass jar and shoved it at me. “Your turn.”
I plunged my hand into the jar of small folded pieces of parchment, grasping onto one and pulling it out.
“Well?” she asked. “What’s the artifact?”
I unraveled the rolled parchment, my excitement building. “The Terramadeau Scrolls.”
“In the ice pits,” she said, the excitement also evident in her voice, and I fucking loved that she was up for this challenge.
The historians and scholars at the academy wouldn’t dare go near the ice pits, not if it meant risking their precious little necks. They wouldn’t let me go either. That would make them look bad. The new young professor showing off and embarking on dangerous missions. I shook away the thoughts. This was supposed to be my escape from all of that.
“Now that we’ve got that settled.” I reached into my cloak, pulling out a scroll I’d discovered recently that laid out ten rules for interacting with the spirits. One of the rules mentioned the Seven Spirits’ mythical weapons, stating that the weapons were never to be touched by anyone but a spirit. Though it didn’t say why. I wondered what the repercussions might be. I wanted to get her opinion, see if she knew anything about these weapons.
I looked up from the parchment to ask the white rabbit what she thought, but when my gaze lifted to find her, she was already gone.