Talon gives a low whistle. “Remind me never to cross a Mixer.”
Jacey playfully punches his shoulder. “You’re only just learning this now?”
“So is it possible that you could make a topical?” I ask. “Do you know how?”
A hush falls over the room. Jacey pulls her legs to her chest. When she speaks, her voice is low and nervous. “I probably could, but I don’t know if I dare. After what happened with Jensen …”
“I would never ask if it weren’t important.”
Jacey’s eyes drop to her lap. She traces patterns on her knees with her fingers. The silence in the room grows into a thing with claws.
“Never mind,” I say. “Forget I said anything.”
Her hands go still. She lifts her eyes to mine. “We learned about something interesting in training last week.”
I hold my breath and wait for her to keep talking.
“What was it?” Talon asks.
“Waking sedative potions,” Jacey says. “They’re often used when Mixers are working with Healers—given to patients to reduce anxiety.”
“But how would that help us with Rasmus?” I ask.
“Because it also affects memory.” She wraps her arms tightly around her legs and rests her cheek on her knees. “I think I could make a version that could be absorbed through the skin. And then we’d need to find some way to actually make him touch it.”
“Jacey …” But I don’t know how to finish the sentence. I hate that I’ve put her in this position, and yet I can’t bring myself to reject her offer.
“It’s not as if it would hurt him,” she says.
Tessa shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “So how would it work?”
“We’d find a way to give him a dose before we ever leave Ivory Hall, and he shouldn’t remember anything from when it kicks in until it wears off.”
“But he won’t be unconscious?”
“No, he’ll function completely normally. He should be able to protect Saskia should the need arise. He just won’t remember any of it.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Tessa says.
Jacey shrugs. “We volunteered to help. What else are we supposed to do? Politely ask Rasmus to back off so Saskia can go investigate the man who wants to kill her?”
Bram clears his throat. “Speaking of protecting Saskia … if we’re going to go back to the shop, I think we need to take more precautions. We were reckless before.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Niklas says. “I could carve a bone flute for Talon if he can borrow a bird. That way at least we’d have some surveillance capabilities.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Talon says. “I’ve already charmed half the birds in the training program and I’m sure I could convince one of them to follow me.”
Tessa’s fingers curl around my hand. “Obviously, I’ll be ready to help too,” she says, without offering a specific plan. We all know if we need Tessa’s skills, something has gone terribly wrong.
“Good,” Bram says. “From now on, I plan to have my breaking pouch with me every time we leave Ivory Hall.”
Warmth floods my chest at their concern. Their loyalty. I think of how lonely I felt leaving Midwood. How utterly solitary in the world. But now I’m surrounded by people I care about. Somehow the bone games have taken the threads of our individual lives—our hopes and our fears alike—and woven them together so that they are one fabric. I wish there were a word for it, this intangible thing that’s stronger than friendship. Even deeper than empathy.
It’s how I felt about my mother. About Gran. And then I realize there is a word.
It’s called family.
Niklas suddenly sits forward in his chair. “Sas, what’s on your arm?”
I look down to find a thick gray band situated halfway between my wrist and my elbow. My gaze skips to my other arm. An identical marking. Tessa gasps. “I have them too.”
We all do. Fresh new tattoos have etched onto our forearms. When we stand side by side, it’s as if they form a chain that links us together.
The next day, I wake up to find my pendant tangled in my bedsheets. It must have fallen off during the night, which feels like a bad omen considering what we’re planning. I take a deep breath before Tessa and I step out of our room, determined not to let anything unusual show on my face. Rasmus is leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. He looks up as I open the door.
“Good morning,” I say.
He dips his head in my direction. It’s as friendly a greeting as he ever gives.
“We’re going into the city today,” I say. “Talon wants a new bone flute, and we heard about a shop that sells instruments.”
He shrugs and pushes off the wall to follow us. “No need to ask my permission.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought I’d keep you apprised of our plans. I mean … if you don’t want to go, we could probably find another day.”
He snorts. “It’s fine.”
“I figured as much,” I say. “It just seems like you never have any time to relax, and—”
Tessa shoots me a quelling look. I’m being too talkative. I press my lips together.
“You don’t need to concern yourself with how I spend my time,” Rasmus says.
I open my mouth to apologize, but then decide that perhaps I can’t be trusted to speak. Tessa and I walk in silence as Rasmus trails us down the stairs. Bram, Talon, and Niklas are all waiting for us in the grand foyer, but Jacey is nowhere in sight. A spasm of panic goes through me. Our entire plan depends on Jacey. I asked her for details last night on how exactly she plans on dosing Rasmus without him knowing, but she brushed me off.
“I’m working on it,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
“Good morning, Rasmus,” Talon says brightly once we reach the bottom. “I’m in the market for a bone flute.”
“So I’ve heard,” Rasmus says dryly.
Time seems to shuffle along as we wait. We make small talk. We glance anxiously to the upper level.
“Should I go try to find her?” Talon asks.
“She’ll be here,” Niklas says. “Let’s give her another minute.”
Finally Jacey appears, bounding down the stairs like she’s just heard good news.
She gives us all a big smile. Then she turns to Rasmus and wrinkles her nose. “You have something on your face.”
His eyes widen in surprise. He rubs his cheek with his fist.
“Other side,” Jacey says.
Rasmus wipes the opposite cheek.
“Ew. Now you’ve gone and smeared it everywhere.”
He turns a deep red. He spits on his palm and scrubs furiously at his face.
“Oh, for bones’ sake,” Jacey says, rummaging through her satchel. “Here.” She holds out a handkerchief, pinched between her thumb and forefinger like it’s a rattlesnake.
I hold my breath. Rasmus will never fall for it.
But he doesn’t even hesitate before snatching the cloth and attacking his skin like it’s the bottom of a crusty pot.
“You got it,” Jacey says after a moment. Either he doesn’t hear or doesn’t believe her, because he keeps moving the handkerchief over his cheeks. He’s going to end up dosing himself with far too much of the potion. She touches his shoulder. “Rasmus, it’s all gone.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
He holds the cloth out to her. “Here you go then.”
Jacey looks at the handkerchief and then up at Rasmus. She cringes. “You keep it.”
“Fine,” he says, shoving it into his pocket.
I didn’t think Rasmus had any weaknesses, but Jacey seemed to instinctively know how to find the chink in his armor. His pride. He doesn’t want to be seen as a fool. Which makes me feel even worse about what we’re doing.
But as we start down the path to Kastelia City, Rasmus seems to relax. All the tension leaves his shoulders. He catches my gaze. Gives me a wide smile. W
ith a start, I realize I’ve never seen his teeth before.
We pass a bakery, and Rasmus stops, planting his nose against the glass. “My gramps was a baker. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No,” I say, “you didn’t.”
“He made the best pie crust. Buttery. Flaky. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.” His expression gets dreamy and faraway. “I should eat more pie. Do you eat much pie, Saskia?”
Tessa turns to Jacey and widens her eyes. “You gave him too much.”
Rasmus starts humming softly and Jacey laughs. “I gave him the perfect amount. And I think it’s a huge improvement over his usual personality.”
Rasmus is still gazing fondly at the pastries. I touch his upper arm. “Should we keep going?”
“Yes,” he says, “you go and I’ll follow.” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s my job to make sure no one kills you.”
Somehow the casual honesty of the statement lends it weight. I press my lips together.
Bram slaps Rasmus on the shoulder. “And you’re doing great. Let’s keep moving.”
We get to the shop, and Rasmus watches with interest as Bram picks the lock. “Are you breaking in?”
“Kind of,” Bram says.
“Norah isn’t going to like this.”
“I suspect you’re right,” Bram says.
Niklas rifles through his satchel and produces a small bone flute. “I’ll wait out here with Talon. This place gives me the creeps.”
Talon presses the bone flute to his lips as the rest of us file into the shop. When we open the door to the hidden room, Rasmus gives a low whistle. “What is all this?”
“Practice for the bone games,” Jacey says without missing a beat. She’s a better liar than the rest of us combined.
His brow furrows. “Norah didn’t mention—”
“Just like at the Fortress?” Jacey gives a sympathetic shake of her head. “You’re always the last to know, right?”
Rasmus opens his mouth, like he might mount an argument, but I can tell his heart’s not in it. He shrugs and stands against the wall. He keeps his gaze on me, but it’s different than usual. It’s the way one might watch a group of children playing a game. Like he’s not really expecting anything bad to happen, but intends to pay attention just in case.
As I look at the bones on the shelf—the vast array of paths that I need to study—I’m hit with a wave of exhaustion. But there’s no other way. I’ll need to read every single option if I hope to understand how to stop Latham.
I start toward the shelf, but something on a nearby table stops me in my tracks. I make a choked sound at the back of my throat. Behind me, Bram gasps.
Latham knows we’ve been here.
In the center of the table is the spell book he left in my room at Ivory Hall. The one made from my mother’s skin.
He must have retrieved it from Bram’s room and brought it here.
Bram’s hand closes around my wrist. “We should go. This isn’t safe.”
“What’s not safe?” Rasmus asks. “What do you need?” His eyes roam around the room, but he doesn’t seem particularly alarmed. Or especially capable of springing into action should the need arise.
Bram spins toward Jacey. “You’ve rendered him useless.”
“He’ll be fine. He’s still wearing his bone armor.”
“That protects him from Breakers. If he’s too incapacitated to guard us, it hardly matters what he’s wearing.”
Her eyes narrow. “We wouldn’t be here if not for me. I don’t remember hearing your brilliant plan.”
“My plan is to keep Saskia alive. Which means we need to leave. Now.”
“Fine by me,” Jacey says, her voice full of fire. “I was only trying to help.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “Stop. Both of you. We’re not going anywhere.”
“But—” Bram starts.
“That book is a message. Latham is trying to scare us away, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction.”
“Saskia.” Tessa’s voice is full of warning. “You’ve seen yourself dying by a weapon in this room.”
“And you’ve reminded me that it’s only one potential path.”
She falls silent. She can’t very well argue with herself. Tension hangs in the room like a dense fog.
“I wish I had the luxury to run, but I don’t. If we leave now, Latham wins. He changes the past.”
I don’t say the rest of what I’m thinking—that I would willingly trade my safety to assure that Latham pays for what he’s done.
So I bury my fear deep inside myself, then settle into a chair and pull the first broken bone from the nutrient solution. Gran’s bones were originally prepared for my kenning, so each represents a set of different potential futures. I close my eyes and begin to explore.
I lose all sense of time or place as I wander down the different directions Latham’s life could have taken. I see him as a baby, a child, a young man. I see him meet my mother. On another path, he never encounters her at all. But each has some branch point that involves the Grand Council—it must be why he chose to break these particular bones.
“The Grand Council is corrupt,” he tells Avalina on one path. The two of them are walking through the streets of Kastelia City on a warm evening after a rainstorm. The cobbles are slick and shimmering in the lamplight.
Avalina threads her fingers through his. “What makes you say that?”
“They’ve been hoarding power for years.” His thumb traces slow circles along her palm. “They want to limit it for everyone but themselves.”
“What do you mean? Lots of people in Kastelia have magic. How could the Grand Council hoard it even if they wanted to?”
Latham gives her a gentle smile. “Did you know that there weren’t always binding ceremonies?”
She tilts her head and looks up at him. “Really?”
He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Really. People who had magic used to be able use it however they were able. But then the Grand Council decided too few people had too much power, and they started to assign new apprentices to specialize in one small area. And since unused magic withers and dies, it was an effective way to limit power.”
Avalina’s brow wrinkles. “But you said the council was hoarding power.”
“Yes,” Latham says, “because the rules don’t apply to them. Council members are allowed to use any magic they wish. Bound or not.”
“But the binding ceremony happens so young. Wouldn’t their magic have been limited long before they were appointed to the council?”
“Exactly,” Latham says, clearly pleased by the question. “Those members had to have been using unbound magic their entire careers. For well-connected, powerful families, the rules aren’t enforced. While others face death for the same crimes.”
Slow horror spreads over Avalina’s expression. “That’s horrible.”
He squeezes her hand. “I’m going to change it. With you by my side, we can change the world.”
Outside the vision, my breath catches. Before my mother died, we had a very similar conversation about the binding ceremony. Her words echo in my memory: It used to be that magic was allowed to develop naturally, without so many boundaries. But now bones are bought and sold. Magic comes at a price. And we all suffer for the loss.
My mother would have agreed with Latham that changes needed to be made. The realization knocks something loose inside me.
And it also gives new shape to Latham’s actions. He was already angry with the council. And then they nullified his match with the woman he loved.
I travel down paths where Latham has multiple conversations with his father, asking cleverly disguised questions to discover each member who agreed to keep him and Avalina apart. On some of the paths, he keeps a list of their names on his bedside table. He studies it obsessively.
And then I come across something that makes my blood run cold. A murdered council member. One who died in myst
erious circumstances that bear a striking resemblance to the murders in Midwood a few months ago. The Bone Charmer who sat on the Grand Council was found dead in her home, throat slit. The killer was never discovered. She was the Charmer who performed Avalina’s second kenning, the woman who matched her as a chef and claimed she had no suitable love match in the entire country.
I think back to the council vacancy Latham discussed with his mother. Latham created it. And he attempted to fill it with my mother. Earlier, I assumed he wanted her close so that she’d be easier to kill, but now confusion rages in my chest. Did he want her on the council because he wanted her dead or because she agreed with him? Did he think of her as an enemy or an ally?
I keep going. Path after path until my mind is muzzy, and I can’t think clearly anymore.
I pull away from the bones and massage my temples.
“What’s wrong?” Bram asks. “What did you see?”
“I know what Latham wants,” I say, “but I can’t figure out how to stop him.”
“What does he want?” Tessa asks softly.
I stand up and pace the length of the room. “He wanted change before he became consumed with revenge. He’s targeting the council members who kept him and Avalina apart. But he also wants power. He craves it. His father made every decision for him as a child. Controlled every aspect of his life.”
Jacey sighs. “And then invalidated the result when fate stepped in.”
“Yes,” I say, “exactly. He’s bitter. Angry. How he chooses to heal these bones will change the past, but I can’t see how.”
Niklas stands against the wall, the back of his hand over his mouth. His cheeks are sallow. “Let’s just take the bones and get out of here.”
“We can’t. If we steal the bones, we can prevent them from mending, but that could destroy all of us.” I think of what my mother told me after Gran’s bone fractured. I wanted to do nothing. To simply allow both of my potential paths to exist simultaneously, but my mother made it clear that wasn’t an option. If the bone doesn’t heal, all of your futures will disappear.
The Bone Thief Page 20
