Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
EMORY, TWO YEARS AGO
I lifted the mask of Spirit Sky, studying it and smiling with glee as the bone collector lay next to me on the rocky hills of the Valoris highlands. The grass was soft and spongy, and we’d collapsed onto it after escaping the lighthouse where we’d just come from.
“You cheated,” he said from next to me as a chilly blast of wind howled past us.
I raised my nose. “You’re just jealous, Bone Collector. I outwitted you. Two years in a row now.”
I wished I could see his face in this moment, that I could know if his reaction was to roll his eyes or furrow his brows or frown deeply—or smile, more amused by my comments than annoyed.
I lifted a hand and tugged my hood further over my head, lower half of my face covered by the scarf.
“It wasn’t two years in a row,” he said, hands resting on his stomach. “I got that book last year.”
“That’s funny because I’m pretty sure I was the one who walked away with it. ”
“After I dropped it to you to save my life and keep the fire sprites from incinerating me to death.”
“All I’m hearing are excuses,” I said, lowering the delicate white mask, covered with blue dust that I blew off. It poofed into the air, shimmery and dancing in the waning sun rays.
I was starting to think there was something to it. That maybe the dust came from the spirits themselves? Or maybe it came from their magic? I couldn’t be sure, would have to gather more evidence to come up with a concrete theory. But this dust had to come from somewhere. It didn’t seem to have any magical properties itself, but it emanated this otherworldly glow that nothing I knew of could create.
The mask was beautiful. Delicate with a firm mouth and strong nose. I wondered under what circumstances Spirit Sky might’ve worn it. Or if he gave it to his high priests or priestesses to wear. There had only been one in the little lighthouse perched on the edge of the isle, which led me to believe if it did get worn by someone, it would’ve been Spirit Sky. Maybe during a masquerade ball. He was known to love throwing those.
I couldn’t wait to get this back to my little bunker and study it in more detail. Add it to my collection.
The sun sank below the horizon ahead of us, the sky a melting pot of pinks, oranges, and purples.
We fell into a comfortable silence. No pressure to speak when both of us needed to retreat into our own thoughts. It was nice, and I’d come to appreciate these moments.
Far below the ocean crashed against the tall cliffs of the sky court, the sound thunderous and roaring.
I turned to face the bone collector, once again this odd sensation pulling at me, making me wish I could reach out and tug that hood off his head. I didn’t know what was coming over me. We’d been leaving more notes for each other than ever before in our secret meeting place. I had hundreds from him at this point.
Notes that talked about his theories about certain artifacts, silly stories, mundane stories, and sometimes, even stories about his childhood, his favorite things to do. Those notes kept me going. Every week, I’d return to our secret spot with something to look forward to .
Just a month ago, my husband had commented that I’d better start smiling again or he was going to shove me off our cliffside home. It might’ve been a joke, but underneath the teasing, there was a warning to his words. He wanted a wife who would meet his every need, who would be sunny and happy and not burden him in any way. Instead of asking me what was wrong, his instinct was to threaten me if he saw any signs of anger or sadness. Little did he know, I’d been sad because I hadn’t heard from the bone collector.
“So what’s next for the white rabbit?” he asked.
I bit my lip under my scarf, not sure if I should even tell him about my crazy plan, but if there was anyone I could talk to about this, it would be the bone collector. “I think the Seven Spirits mythical weapons might be real, and I want to find one of them.”
I felt him go completely still.
“I’ve found evidence pointing to the existence of Spirit Sky’s bolt. I just don’t know exactly where it’s located, but I’m getting closer to finding it.” I took a deep breath. “And once I do, I’m going to use it to gain entry to the Academy of Scholars & Historians.”
I waited for him to tell me I was crazy, for him to laugh, anything. But he just sighed. “If anyone can find it, little rabbit, it’s you.”
The compliment filled me with joy. I didn’t even realize I was seeking his approval until this moment, but it meant everything.
“Until next year, then?” I sat up, realizing it was already getting dark.
The bone collector sat up as well, and I waited for his usual sarcasm, some response about how next year I wouldn’t get so lucky—even though luck had nothing to do with me getting this mask today.
“Do you think it’s odd that we’ve known each other for four years, and I’ve never seen your face? Don’t know your name?”
I stilled, pulse spiking. “That’s our agreement. We have those rules in place for a reason.”
“What if I wanted to know?” He leaned forward, his black cloak rustling as his voice dropped low. “What if I was willing to tell you my name? To show you my face? To trust you?”
I scooted back, putting space between us. “Then I’d say you’re a fool. What we’re doing is against the law. We’ve been stealing artifacts that belong to the academy.”
He snorted. “The academy doesn’t do nearly as much for history as we’ve done.”
My annoyance flared. “The academy is amazing. Its entire purpose is to preserve history and to teach young scholars how to thrive as historians. What we do is...” I trailed off, not knowing what I wanted to say.
Not pretend. It was real enough. But we weren’t helping the world. What we did was shrouded in secrecy and anonymity. I hoped to use it for good one day.
“What we’re doing is brave,” the bone collector finished for me. “Far braver than any of those historians sitting in their pretty little academy, sending out treasure hunters to collect artifacts for them to study. They miss so many details by not getting the objects themselves, and half of the artifacts come back broken, pieces gone.”
“Not Maverick Von Lucas,” I challenged. He was a rising historian and scholar at the academy. I’d seen him speak a few times, and each time, his passion and excitement for the profession bled into me.
“You know, I bet Maverick was inspired by us,” the bone collector said, crossing his arms.
“What are you talking about?” I let out a laugh of disbelief.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t until our own reputations spread to the frost queen that he started going on his adventures. He’s the face of the academy because none of the other historians and scholars are willing to do what he does. They don’t really care about history, you know. They care about telling the frost queen’s story, the one she wants to perpetuate.”
“Stop,” I said. The academy had been my dream for as long as I could remember, and I wouldn’t let the bone collector ruin it. “We all have different values, different places in the world. Maybe one day we can be the historians, the collectors, we want to be. We can share this knowledge.”
“I think you’re trying to avoid my question,” he said like I hadn’t spoken at all.
Another gust of wind blew past us, and a flock of birds soared overhead through the dusky sky. Even though my husband was away on business, I needed to return home before the servants got suspicious.
“What are you talking about?” I stood, dusting the shimmers from my cloak, descending down the hill and toward the stone-paved road that wound through the highlands. “Did you hit your head a little too hard in that lighthouse?”
“No, I’m thinking very clearly. Maybe clearer than ever before.” He followed behind me. “And I want to know what you think.”
“About what?” I asked, acting exasperated, but I knew exactly what he was referring to. The question burned a little too hot in my blood. Seeing his face would be amazing. Knowing his name would be like a gift. But it would also be dangerous. So very dangerous.
“Have you ever wondered?” He gestured to his body. “What’s under this cloak. Because, little rabbit, I’ve wondered so very many times what’s under yours.”
Heat flushed my neck and cheeks, and I thanked the bloody spirits my face was hooded and covered.
I kept my voice light, teasing, even though it felt like a butterfly had taken up residence in my stomach. “That eager to uncover my secrets, Bone Collector?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Every single one.” He stepped closer, so close I could reach up and tug down his hood. “I want to know the secret to this.” He lightly touched my hood. “I want to know the secret to this.” He ran a featherlight touch over the scarf covering my face. “Mostly, I want to know the secret to this.” He lay a palm flat in the middle of my chest, right over my beating heart.
He must’ve felt the way it thundered like a stampede. The pound of it reverberated in my ears. I wanted that too. All of it. It would be so easy to reach up and take off my hood, to tug down that scarf covering my face. To unveil him. And then what would come next?
Spirits below, what was I thinking?
I stepped back. “Well, I can’t go giving away all my secrets. Where would be the fun in that?”
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. I spun on my heel before he could persuade me because I had a feeling the day he actually touched me, I’d lose all restraint .
“I’ll see you next year, Bone Collector.” I waved over my shoulder, not looking back as tears spilled down my cheeks.
As soon as I’d rounded a curve in the road, I flattened myself against one of the grassy hillsides and let the tears come. I’d taken this too far.
It was supposed to be fun. Meaningless. There was nothing meaningless about this, and I knew it. I didn’t know how it happened. I didn’t know when. Maybe it wasn’t an exact moment I’d fallen for him, but in all the moments. In the challenges, the competition, the way he pushed me to new levels. In the way he understood me. In the way he encouraged me, never held me back. The way he said “little rabbit” like it was a gentle caress.
I liked the bone collector. A laugh bubbled from me while the tears still ran down my cheeks. It was ridiculous. I didn’t know his name, for spirits’ sake.
The laughter died when the next thought came. I was a married woman. This was so far out of bounds. It didn’t matter that my husband didn’t love me. That I didn’t love him. That we’d been matched by the Academy of Ladies, our marriage a simple transaction. That he had countless mistresses.
None of that mattered. Because he had the power in our relationship, and if he found out about this—not me being the white rabbit—but me having feelings for another man, he’d ruin me. His ego wouldn’t survive something like that. My world was supposed to revolve around him. It did revolve around him.
Until the bone collector.
This had to stop. Nothing good would come of this, whatever this was. My heart felt like it was being wrenched from my chest. I didn’t know the bone collector. Not really. Even if I was entertaining the idea of leaving my husband for him, who was to say I wouldn’t just be controlled by another man in another relationship? Same problem, different man.
I pawed away the tears. Because one thing was certain: if I ever escaped this marriage, I’d never allow myself to become trapped again.