Crown of Bones

by A. K. Wilder

  He glances at it briefly. “Recording the journey isn’t engaging enough?”

  “It’s fully engaging, but this could be part of it, don’t you see?” I clasp his forearm. “The tattoos on the scouts. The messages about Amassia’s dark sun. This script. It could be Retoren, and if so, with a dictionary, we can translate it. Doesn’t that spike your interest?”

  He slides his hand over mine. “If it involves working with you, lass, I’m in. The flyer’s in our room.”

  A different kind of warmth spreads through me. Gratitude. Excitement. Maybe both. I smile until my cheeks hurt. “We need a dictionary, and Huewin made it clear that Retoren is far too advanced for me to lay eyes on, let alone read.”

  Kaylin outright laughs. “Well now I’m definitely helping, if for nothing else but to prove him wrong. Though I can’t believe you’d rather hunt down a lost language than eat oysters on the beach, under the autumn sun.” His eyebrows dance. “Berry tarts, as well.”

  My mouth waters at the thought. “We can do both?”

  “Aye.” He turns my hand over and laces our fingers together. “Where do you think they would keep a reference book on Retoren?”

  My heart stutters as his thumb strokes the back of my hand. “I don’t know; that’s the problem.”

  “How about we ask?”

  “Bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?”

  “We don’t ask about Retoren, specifically,” he says. “But something similarly obscure, a dead language, or one not in common use on Aku?”

  One comes quickly to mind. “Northern Aturnian?”

  He nods. “With their rights to Aku suspended, the materials in that language could be archived. The library keeper may wonder what you’re up to, asking for a Northern Aturnian dictionary, though.”

  “Not if I record it being spoken in Clearwater, on the wharf when we disembarked. I would need it for the correct translations. The records must be as accurate as possible.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll wager it was spoken on the Sea Eagle, am I right? Let’s go ask.”

  The main desk downstairs is busy, and we have to wait in line. When it’s my turn, I step up, recognizing the girl in charge. “Mia, I’m after a Northern Aturnian dictionary.”

  She puts down her quill, her nose wrinkling when she lays eyes on me. “Do I know you?”

  I exhale, but inwardly, I roll my eyes. “Yes. My name is Ash, recording for Marcus of Baiseen and Belair of Tangeen.”

  “That’s right. You’re the non-savant.”

  Kaylin raises a brow.

  I hold my smile in place as her possum-like phantom jumps up to the desk and clicks toward me, nails tapping on the polished wood. Mia pulls it back but not before I receive an image of it stealing bread out of Kaylin’s pack. It gives me chills, but by now I’m less surprised and less quick to call it a coincidence. “Northern Aturnian dictionary?” I repeat.

  “Sorry.” Mia shakes her head, curly hair dancing around her face.

  She doesn’t look sorry at all.

  “You’ll need to speak to Master Huewin about it. Anything else?” She returns to her work as if I’ve already walked on.

  “Are they archived?” Kaylin steps up to the desk. He puts both palms on the surface and leans in.

  Mia’s face softens. “I can’t say more.”

  “No?” He moves closer, keeping his eyes intent on hers.

  He’s going to charm her? I press my lips together and cross my arms. Does he go around charming everyone like this?

  But as I watch, Kaylin’s tactics work. Why wouldn’t they? I’ve fallen for the same things every day since we met. Hopefully our interactions are more…genuine? I frown at the thought.

  The quill slips out of Mia’s grip as she returns his gaze. Apparently, she can say more after all. “They’re in the basement, first door on the left. All restricted texts are kept there.”

  “Under lock and key?”

  She nods stupidly.

  I gaze at the ceiling and let out a sigh, but neither hear. Mia smiles. “I’m sure if you petition Master Huewin, he will supply the reference. He knows every book, script, and scroll down there.”

  “In the basement?” I ask to confirm.

  “Yes, there.” The girl answers me, but her eyes don’t leave Kaylin. “I could take you to Huewin right now if you like.”

  “Not necessary. You’ve been more than helpful.” He steps away from the desk, grin still in place, and leads me out.

  We descend the library steps, a bright autumn sun warming my shoulders. “That girl was not helpful,” I grumble. “All she did was…was…swoon over you.”

  He nods toward savants within earshot, but I can see the smile trying to escape. “This way.”

  Once we’re around the corner, he lets out a laugh, and without thinking, I punch him in the arm.

  He laughs harder. “At last, I’m worthy of the Heir’s treatment. You have quite a swing.”

  My face heats and I quickly grab the straps of my satchel to prevent any more spontaneously stupid moves.

  We walk down the heavily trafficked boulevard, past the stables and out the main gate.

  When the traffic thins, I repeat the question. “Well?”

  He grins. “You were jealous.”

  I lift my chin. “Was not.”

  “Liar.”

  I didn’t ask for your opinion.

  His grin only widens. “Mia was more helpful than you think.”

  “How?” At least the change in subject allows me to redirect my irritation. “We can’t ask Huewin to let us in without giving him an explanation, and we can’t steal a key.”

  He looks at me with his dreamy sea-green eyes and winks.

  It takes a moment to sink in. “Oh no.” I stop, hands going to my hips. “You aren’t thinking… Kaylin, no.”

  “Just borrow it, for a time, so I can make a skeleton key to match.”

  “You’re a blacksmith now?”

  “I’m many things, lass.”

  That is true. I cross my arms as we walk along the side path to the headland. Finally, I say, “What’s your plan?”

  “We go to the basement in the wee hours of the night, use my skeleton key to unlock the storage room—first door on the left—and find the answers you’re looking for. Unless, of course, you want to give up?” He lifts an eyebrow.

  I stare at him for a long moment, wondering how he can know that when it comes to wordsmithing, I’ll do anything to solve a mystery. “I don’t want to give up.”

  “Then we won’t.”

  38

  Marcus

  “This is the best K’mai I’ve ever had.”

  It’s not really. Traditional Gollnar dishes of vegetables and roots braised in spices aren’t that appealing. Too many chili peppers for me. But I’ll say anything to keep from talking about events on the field this morning.

  “Agreed,” Belair says. “The yams are so sweet.” He takes a massive bite from his bowl.

  I blink and keep eating. Belair and I managed to make it in from the training field, clean up—with only cold water left after waiting in a long line of grumbling students—and reach the dining hall before the midday meal finished. Piper and Samsen waited for us, their bowls empty, expressions curious as they lean in to each other like a couple of slanting bookends. I can tell they know, or perhaps even saw, what happened on the field.

  “Listen, you two,” Piper begins, her arm draped around Samsen’s shoulders. “First week’s the most challenging. Just stay focused and you’ll pass. They aren’t necessarily testing for the obvious things.”

  Like control and ability? “Really?” I ask without looking up from my food. “Did you have warrior training?”

  “You know I didn’t, but everyone goes through physical workouts with their phantom, and it’s grueling, I prom
ise. You did well; you’re still on your feet.”

  “Unfortunately, the obstacle course isn’t,” Belair says.

  Samsen chuckles.

  Piper refills my bowl from the central tureen. “Eat up. You’ll need your strength for the afternoon.”

  I sigh, not sure I can face more of this fare. “You saw what happened?”

  “To the obstacle course?” Piper tries to keep a straight face. “Everyone on Aku has heard the story by now.”

  Samsen leans in. “It’s just the beginning for you and that house-sized phantom of yours. No one’s expecting you to perform like an orange-robe on your first day.”

  “I don’t think they were expecting the training field to be destroyed on my first day, either.”

  Samsen pats me on the back. “Great job re-turfing, by the way, and the obstacle course will be better for the new construction.”

  “There’s that.” I notice the empty place beside Piper. “Where’s Ash?”

  “Didn’t she record your first session?” Piper raises her brows.

  “No, thank the bones. I don’t need an up-close account of this day bound into a book for all generations to come.” Although I know she saw some of our debacle from the library tower. What she didn’t see firsthand, she’d have heard about by now.

  “Pity. She’d be in the library, though, no doubt.”

  “And our friend Kaylin?”

  “Haven’t seen him.” Samsen and Piper speak at the same time.

  I frown and return to my bowl. Among the background noises of the hall, I catch the words Baiseen and stumbling fool. I make to push out of my seat, but I hear my name called in that Aturnian accent.

  Destan, sitting opposite a few seats down the row, leans across the table. “It’s just Macor, from Sierrak, an inept ouster who can’t stir a wind to save his life.”

  “Ouster?”

  “Pay him no mind, I’m saying. With his gopher of a phantom, he won’t last the week.”

  “Marcus.” Samsen grabs my shoulder. “Leave it alone. You’ll not serve Palrio by scrapping in the halls of Aku.”

  I grimace but stay seated. Samsen’s right. Fighting in the dining hall would not earn me respect. It could even see us all booted out on the spot. For all that I’ve focused on reaching Aku, I must keep my eye on the prize. On honing my warrior. On serving and protecting my realm.

  When I turn to thank Destan, he’s gone. Odd.

  Piper frowns at the seat Destan abandoned. “Is his accent Northern Aturnian?”

  “Maybe, but he says he’s from the Southern realm.”

  “Quite friendly,” Belair adds. “He’s in Zarah’s group with us.”

  “He’s been helpful.” Which is true, but Samsen and Piper don’t look convinced. I lean in close. “Kaylin has a theory. About Northern Aturnia sending their initiates to Aku from the south to bypass the ban.”

  Samsen’s eyes widen. “Surely Yuki would know of this deception.”

  “Which is why we need to be careful.”

  Belair frowns. “You think Destan’s here for more than training?”

  I draw in a breath. “If he is, it will be up to us to find out.”

  Because protecting Aku from Northern Aturnian spies is exactly the complication we need while trying to earn our yellow robes.

  39

  Ash

  The cove is every bit as beautiful as Kaylin promised.

  The water sparkles beneath the noonday sun. I can’t get my boots off fast enough, roll up my pants above my knees, and let the sand caress my feet. I cut quickly across the beach and let the gentle waves lap at my toes. It’s wonderful, but cold. Really cold.

  “Aren’t you going to freeze to death out…there?” My voice squeaks to a halt when I look up because Kaylin is undressing. He’s utterly comfortable in his body. Tutapa upbringing, I guess.

  Wish I had some of that…

  He flashes me a grin.

  I harrumph. “There will be no rescue from me if you run into trouble,” I say, backing up when a larger wave rolls in. “And I don’t think they will help, either.” I indicate the barking sea lions at the end of the breakwater. “They bite, you know.”

  “Of course, he knows. He’s island raised.”

  Here I am, talking too much again, but can’t stop. The butterflies in my belly have to go somewhere, and it seems they see fit to escape through my mouth, carrying as many words with them as they possibly can. With Kaylin so close, and currently wearing so little clothing, there is an endless supply.

  He takes a small medallion off from around his neck and hands it to me. “I’ll be right back.” He picks up his knife and a net bag.

  “I’ll be here.” I study the medallion to keep from staring after him. He always wears it, as far as I recall, in or out of the water. Odd that it’s in my hands now. I rub my thumb across the surface. The copper, tinged green, is shaped like a trident and etched very finely. I’ve seen the image somewhere before but can’t place it. I must remember to ask.

  Kaylin climbs onto the breakwater, the wall of rocks creating this natural horseshoe cove. Across the turquoise waters, kelp gardens fan out like golden threads. The fronds drift on the surface, held up by floating bladders. Halfway out to the pod of sea lions, Kaylin gives me a wave and dives in.

  I hold my breath, just for fun, to see if I can stay under as long as he does, but soon I must breathe. I let it out, as slowly as I can, take another breath, hold it, let it out, and another, and another…

  “What is he, a f’qadin fish?”

  40

  Kaylin

  Blessed seawater rushes over me. My skin comes alive and every cell in my body tingles. I miss this feeling each moment I spend on land, except for when I’m with Ash. Those moments have their own form of pleasure and quickening of the heart. Still, a stalemate is nigh. Soon there will be no moving forward or going back, not without making a terrible choice. I dive deeper, swimming faster, a blur in the dark green currents, as if the answer to all my troubles lay at the bottom of the sea.

  The sunken ship lists hard on her side, ringed with swaying kelp. The hull is partially intact, and a tall mast shoots up from the rotting deck. The crow’s nest pokes out of the water at low tide, though on a slant. Oysters and barnacles cluster on both masts, fore and aft, and it doesn’t take long to fill the bag.

  The world’s on the brink, and I gather oysters. What black-robe foresaw this?

  “Having a picnic are you, brother?”

  Curse the bones and throwers, where did she come from? “Salila, what a pleasant surprise. Teern let you off the leash?” I break the surface and make a show of taking a breath before diving again. “Or perhaps you have lost your way?”

  “Me? Lost?” Salila sweeps by, a rush of water knocking me back. “I’m hardly lost.”

  “Good, then. Be a help and gather more oysters, will you?”

  She swims back over the ship, kelp dragging along in her wake. Finally, she stops in front of me, arms crossed, hair fanning out in all directions. “You have nerve, asking me for more help.”

  “Taxed, are you, sister?”

  Her lower lip sticks out. “I did everything you wanted, Kaylin. Followed the Heir on his little detour. Brought the fish run to empty the harbors, both Cabazon and Toretta. Made sure you knew to be there at precisely the right moment for the party of five. And for what?”

  “To accomplish Teern’s will, what else?” When she doesn’t answer, I soften a bit. “Sounds like you’re free now, the price for breaking Teern’s law paid?”

  “I wish, but no.” Her voice turns conspiratorial. “He sent me to watch you. Thinks you’re mucking things up.”

  “You can tell Father I have it under control.” I keep my mental voice calm, but it’s not easy.

  She snorts. “Then you’re the worst
assassin in the history of the profession.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The Heir and his party are still alive?”

  “I have my reasons.” Ash’s face flashes in front of me. “Good reasons.” I surface again and dive. Salila follows but doesn’t break the water.

  “I will report this. Don’t think I won’t.” She swims past me in a shot.

  “By all means, do.” I catch up, my fists tight. “Just know, I plan to tell Teern myself.”

  She stops dead in the water and I stream right by. It takes her a moment to fire off her next retort. “You do that, Kaylin, and be sure to mention the Heir, alive and well on the training field of Aku. I imagine that will stir him.”

  I force a smile. “Are you done?”

  “Not quite.” She spins like a whirlpool, tangling my hair in front of my eyes. “Tann’s on the move.”

  My stomach drops to the ocean floor. “High Savant Tann? Are you sure?”

  “The one and only, gathering a large Aturnian fleet while he’s at it, too.”

  I think of the flags bearing the twin suns. The tattoos. The notice. “Is he—”

  “Seeking the first whistle bones?” Her hair floats around her face as she nods. “What else?”

  “The crown is once again to be formed?”

  “Not by him, if Teern can stop it.”

  So…it has begun.

  She rolls onto her back, gazing up at the surface, hands pillowing her head. “You’re welcome.”

  I shake myself back to the present. “Thanks.”

  I mean it until she adds, “Chop-chop with the murdering, brother. There’s no time to lose.”

  No time, indeed.

  41

  Ash

  I sit on the beach and hug my knees. “Sailors…”

  Kaylin has surfaced a few times, but now he’s been under for several minutes longer than I imagine a whale could hold its breath. It has me jittery, but after watching him swim across the raging Ferus River and rescue us from the falls, I shouldn’t be overly concerned. But I am. The beach has become quiet, the waves lulling and the barking sea lions blurring into the background.