He takes another step in my direction, and I make a small noise at the back of my throat. Bram’s hand tightens around my shoulder. “Saskia, look at me. He can’t reach you.”
I start to turn toward Bram, when Latham pulls a knife from a sheath at his waist. It looks exactly like the weapon he used to stab my mother. My ears fill with a roaring sound. He spins the knife in the air, catches the handle deftly in his palm. Throws it again.
“How would you like to do this, my dear?” Latham asks. “Any thoughts?”
My mouth goes dry. “How would I like to do what?”
He rolls his eyes, as if I’ve taxed his patience by asking a silly question. “How would you like to die? I could kill each of your friends one by one in front of you. Or I could kill you first so they have the horror of watching you die slowly. Which would be worse for you, I wonder?”
“Bram,” I say softly, “take the others and run.”
I hear movement behind me, but I can’t make myself look away from Latham, who is nearly close enough to touch. I hope they listened to me. I hope they’re getting as far from here as possible.
Latham strides forward and lifts my chin with the tip of the knife. “I heard you visited Avalina,” he says. “A clever idea, but ultimately useless. You can’t run, Saskia. And you’ll never be able to hide well enough that I can’t find you.”
He presses the blade against my throat. I feel a trickle of blood drip toward my collarbone, and tears gather in my eyes. I wanted so badly to get Gran’s and my mother’s bones back. To stop Latham. To make him pay for everything he’s done.
But I failed.
It’s the last thought I have before Latham’s knife slices into my neck and the world goes dark.
Chapter Eighteen
“Saskia, can you hear me?”
The voice sounds faraway. My mind is slow and heavy, as if it’s wrapped in a thick layer of gauze.
A warm palm rests on my cheek. I turn my head and lean closer.
“Saskia?”
My eyes flutter open. Bram’s face hovers above mine, his brows drawn together.
“I’m not dead,” I say.
He gives a tense laugh. “No, you’re not dead.”
“But Latham … he was here. He was about to kill me.”
Bram shakes his head. “It was only an illusion.”
I pull myself into a sitting position. “No, this was different. I didn’t get sucked into a vision. I knew where I was. Latham was here. I’m sure of it.” My voice trembles.
“It only felt real,” Bram says. “Think about it. If he was here, where did he go? He couldn’t have just disappeared.”
“But he knew things,” I say, and then I lower my voice to a whisper. “Like how we visited Avalina.”
“No, you knew those things, and your mind used them to conjure up your worst fears. You’re safe, Saskia, I promise.”
But I’m not convinced. I press my fingers to my throat and they come away with a faint smear of blood.
A shiver goes through me.
“Just a scratch from one of the bones,” Bram says. I can still feel the press of Latham’s blade against my windpipe. What are the chances that a bone grazed my skin in that exact location? Master Kyra’s words dart through my mind. Whoever designed that challenge wasn’t pulling any punches, were they? What if Latham is designing our games? But he couldn’t be … unless someone at Ivory Hall gave him access to me. A lump forms in my throat. I hate not knowing who I can trust.
Bram studies my face, and his eyes go soft. “You’re safe now, I promise.”
He’s wrong, but there’s no point arguing with him, so I swallow my worry and take in my surroundings. We’re in a different room—a warmer one. I have feeling in my hands again. I stretch my fingers wide and curl them into fists. “How did I get here?”
“We couldn’t shake you out of the vision, so I carried you,” he says. “I thought it might help to be away from the bones.”
I feel my cheeks pinken, and I drop my gaze. “Did we finish the challenge, then?”
Bram pulls on the back of his neck. “I’m afraid not. But we’re hoping this is the final area.” He points to a window high above our heads that deposits a disk of sunlight on the floor. We must be close to the outside. Bram offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet.
The room is in the shape of a pentagon, with all five walls made of thick stone, and a round table in the center where the others are gathered, examining our available supplies. When Bram and I join them, Tessa reaches for my hand and laces her fingers through mine.
“That was intense,” she says. “How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better.” I glance around the table. “But I suspect that’s true for all of us.”
“Wasn’t that one of the instructors at Ivory Hall in your hallucination?” Talon asks.
I swallow. “He was. Not anymore.”
“Does he really want you dead?”
The question cracks something open inside me. Something about hearing the words said aloud gives them even more power.
“Yes.” I fold my arms across my chest, as if it might help me feel less exposed.
“Why?” Jacey asks.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just figure out how to get out of here.”
Jacey’s face goes tight. “Saskia—”
“Please,” I say, and my voice comes out strained, “let’s just finish the challenge.” My teammates stare at me, wordless. For a moment, I worry they might push me to reveal more than I want to. And if they push me right now, I might shatter. My soul feels as tender as a fresh burn.
A slow, silent beat passes. And then finally Bram stands and scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I agree with Saskia. Let’s finish this and go home.”
His words hit me at an odd angle. Home. He must mean Ivory Hall, but a pulse of longing for Midwood goes through me that snatches the breath from my lungs. I want to go home. I want my mother so much that it hurts.
I have to focus.
We examine the items on the table.
They seem straightforward—the femur of a raven, carving tools, a handful of smaller bones. And at least the temperature is normal.
Niklas picks up the femur. “This one is obviously prepared for me,” he says, and then inclines his head toward Talon. “I’m guessing I’m supposed to carve a flute for you.”
“There must be a raven outside that I need to control,” Talon says.
“Do you think it’s hurt?” Tessa asks.
Talon cocks his head to one side. “Why would it be hurt?”
Tessa scoops up the small bones in her palm. “These are prepared for healing. I’m trying to figure out why we’d need them.”
“I guess it’s possible,” Talon says.
“Maybe we should start with what we know for sure,” Bram says. “Niklas, how long will it take you to carve a bone flute?”
“It’s a small one, so I should be able to do it in a few hours.”
Jacey groans. “Hours? I was really hoping you could have it done faster.”
I bite my lip and pace back and forth. “It doesn’t have to be fancy. It just needs to work.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Have you ever met a Mason? I can’t just snap my fingers and magic the thing into existence. Carving takes time.”
Niklas sits at the table and begins to work. The knife moves deftly in his hands, bone dust drifting on the tabletop like snow as he whittles. The rest of us explore the room, hoping for some other clue of how to escape, but it seems we can’t do anything else until the bone flute is finished.
Eventually Jacey curls up in a corner and falls asleep. I wish I could do the same, but I doubt I could rest right now if my life depended on it. My mind is still reeling, tripping over my worries. The vision of Latham felt real in a way that the other illusions didn’t. Maybe it was the same for all the apprentices—that their own fears were more alive than the fears of someone else. But still, my stom
ach feels like a writhing nest of snakes.
Finally Niklas holds up the femur bone and blows on it gently to remove the last of the dust. “Finished.”
The flute is delicate. Beautifully carved. And suddenly I’m impressed that Niklas could create such a thing in so little time instead of frustrated he couldn’t make it faster. Niklas gives the instrument to Talon.
“Moment of truth,” Talon says. He brings the flute to his mouth and plays a sorrowful melody. A few moments later, a dark shape darts in front of the window. A flap of black wings. A gentle tap of a beak against the glass.
Jacey presses her palms together. “Thank the bones it’s working.”
“What do you see?” Tessa asks. But Talon ignores her and keeps playing. The bird disappears from sight. The tune goes on and on, and it feels like a raven—like sadness and bad omens and death. But it’s also beautiful.
The melody drifts away and Talon lowers the flute. “There’s a lever on the outside of the building that opens the door,” he says. “The raven wasn’t strong enough to lower it.”
“Then how do we get out?” Jacey asks.
Talon goes to the far wall and runs his palms along the stones. “There must be a way to access the lever from this room. If I could just find a loose section—” One of the stones wiggles a bit, and Talon’s eyes light up. He yanks harder and the stone comes away in his hand.
“And that’s how it’s done.” He places one arm over his waist and gives a deep bow, as if he’s onstage.
We give him a smattering of applause and his face breaks out in a wide grin.
Tessa peers through the opening. “So where is the lever?”
“It should be below,” Talon says.
Tessa sticks her arm through the hole in the wall. “I can’t find it.”
My heart sinks. I should have known it wouldn’t be straightforward. Every time we think we have a solution, the ground seems to shift beneath our feet. Talon picks up the bone flute. “Let me see if I can guide you to it.” He plays a short melody then lowers the instrument. “I don’t think your arm is long enough. It’s directly below you, but I’m not sure you can reach it.”
“Who has the longest arms?” Tessa asks.
“Bram,” Jacey and I say at the same moment.
But when Bram tries, he isn’t any more successful than Tessa was.
“There must be something we’re missing,” Niklas says. “Maybe it’s about who is more flexible?”
“Let me try,” I say. I reach through the opening, my fingers trailing along the cool stone of the Fortress. I push my arm as far as it can go, until my shoulder is shoved against the inside wall at a painful angle. And my fingers brush against metal.
“Yes, Saskia, you’ve almost got it,” Talon says, taking the flute from his mouth for moment. But no matter how much I strain, I can’t quite reach far enough to push the lever all the way down.
“It’s just right there,” I say. “If my arm were just a bit more malleable—” The solution presents itself. I pull my arm back inside. “Bram, I think you have to have to break my humerus.”
He recoils. “What? Absolutely not. I would never.”
“We have no choice. I can almost reach the lever. If you wait until I’m in position, the break will give me a few more inches, and my arm should fall with enough pressure to lower the lever.”
His face is a mask of horror. “We do have a choice. I’m not going to use bone magic to hurt you.”
I touch his elbow. “Hear me out. I used my magic in the first challenge to do a bone reading. Jacey has used hers twice to mix potions. Niklas carved the flute. Talon controlled the bird. But you haven’t used your specific gifts yet.”
He yanks away from me. “This is ridiculous. Neither has Tessa.”
My gaze goes toward the bones on the table. The ones Tessa said were for healing.
Understanding dawns over Tessa’s expression. “Saskia, no. I can fix the bone after it’s broken, but I can’t stop it from hurting in the first place. It would be excruciating.”
“Yes, I know. I can handle it.”
“Please don’t ask me to do this,” Bram says.
I give him a sad smile. “Too late. I already asked you.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair as he paces across the length of the room. “This can’t be how they intended us to escape.”
I give a bitter laugh. “After that last room, I’m amazed you can say that with a straight face.”
He stills. His lips part, but he doesn’t speak.
“This has been a cruel challenge,” I say. “I think this is exactly how they intended us to escape.”
Niklas sighs and sinks into a chair. “I hate to say it, but I think she’s right.”
“Tessa?” The tightness in Bram’s voice makes it sound more like a plea than a question.
Tessa closes her eyes and massages her forehead. “I wish I could think of another solution, but I can’t.”
Bram spins back in my direction. His eyes flash with anger. “This is barbaric.”
“I agree. But you said yourself that this place was built to train soldiers to withstand torture. So, let’s withstand it.” I shove my arm through the opening, wincing as I rotate my shoulder out of place. My fingers graze the top of the lever. “I’m ready.”
Bram moves close to me. “I hate this,” he whispers.
“I know. Me too.”
“Saskia—”
“Just do it,” I say. “Now, please.”
Agony shoots through my arm as it snaps with a sickening crack. I scream. My limp hand slams into the lever.
And nothing happens.
I let out a choked sob. All that pain for nothing. But then a metallic screech pierces the air. The wall begins to move on both sides, splitting apart like a banana peel, and I quickly step to the side to avoid being dragged along. The additional motion is excruciating. It hurts so much more than I was expecting. I need to extricate my arm from the opening, but I can’t move it. I try and fail to bite back a whimper.
Bram’s hand finds the small of my back. “I’ve got you,” he says, lifting my arm and gently guiding it through the opening. My eyes find his. “I’m so sorry.” He looks like he’s about to be sick.
“Don’t be,” I tell him. “It worked.”
Tessa appears beside me. “I need a bit of your blood for the healing spell.” Her voice is all business, but her face is streaked with tears. She takes my uninjured hand in hers and pricks the pad of my finger with a sewing needle. A bright red drop wells at the surface and she squeezes it onto the bones. “Almost done.”
A few moments later a wave of relief washes over me, and I’m not sure I’ve ever felt anything sweeter.
“Better?” Tessa asks.
“Yes,” I say, giving her a weak smile. “Much better.”
“It’s going to be achy for a few days,” Tessa says. “You should avoid moving it as much as possible.”
Bram takes off his shirt and wraps it around my arm, creating a makeshift sling. He ties the ends around my neck. His breathing is ragged. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his bare chest, and it makes my own breath go uneven.
“Is that comfortable?”
I can’t trust myself to speak, so I just nod. Our eyes meet briefly and then Bram pulls his gaze away and puts his cloak back on.
“Should we get out of here?” Niklas asks.
The doors are fully open, and the fresh air, cold as it is, has never felt more welcoming.
I thought I’d seen the worst of Rasmus’s temper when Bram and I snuck away, but I was mistaken. When he sees my arm in the sling, and finds out what happened, he screams at the Watcher who locked us in the Fortress until I’m stunned he has any voice left at all.
“How could you let this happen?” he shouts. “They are children, not soldiers.” He punches a fist in the air. “It’s grotesque, what you’ve done, and I promise you haven’t heard the end of it.”
Somehow his rage is a balm to my wounded soul. His words flow over me like a lullaby, making me feel treasured and protected.
“Look at her,” the Watcher says, unfazed. “She’s fine.”
Rasmus’s face goes bright red. “She’s fine? She’s fine? Her arm was just broken.”
The Watcher shrugs. “Not for long. No permanent damage.”
I think of Latham striding toward me with a knife in his hand. Of Jacey’s panicked cries as she struggled inside the dark belly of a burlap death bag. Of Bram watching a fire consume someone he couldn’t help.
And I wonder if the Watcher knows she’s lying.
Just because no one can see it, doesn’t mean there isn’t any permanent damage.
Chapter Nineteen
The trip back to Ivory Hall feels completely different from the trip to Leiden. Less worried, but more somber. It’s only been a few days since we were on the ship, but it feels like years. The impressions we had of one another when we left the capital have shattered, the broken pieces rearranging into a more complex, more broken picture.
But a more beautiful one too.
We sit on the deck of the ship, our shoulders hunched against the icy wind.
“Do you ever think it might not be worth it?” Niklas asks. “Bone magic, I mean.”
Jacey pulls her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “I wonder that all the time. Especially lately.”
“Maybe that’s the point of the bone games,” Tessa says thoughtfully. “To see who really wants it and who doesn’t.”
“So which are you?” Talon asks.
Tessa shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
Talon indicates the space between me and Bram. “How about you two?”
The way he asks the question—like we’d both have the same answer—makes me realize we never corrected the impression among the group that we aren’t a real couple. I wait for Bram to say something, but he doesn’t.
I find a loose string on the hem of my cloak sleeve and wrap it tightly around my finger. “I don’t think either of us knows what we want yet.”
Bram turns toward me, his face limned by the setting sun, his eyes liquid. “Don’t we?”
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