The Bone Thief

by Breeana Shields

  It’s both a relief and a disappointment. Even though I know I should keep my distance, the pull toward him is almost irresistible. But I keep reminding myself that my feelings aren’t real. They’re just a remnant from a life I never lived. If my other path actually had any influence on this one, Bram would feel the same way, and it’s obvious he doesn’t. When we see each other in passing, he waves and sometimes even smiles, but his eyes only flick to mine for a moment before continuing his conversation. He’s friendly without being affectionate.

  But his indifference toward me poses an even bigger problem than my wounded pride. I’d planned to talk to Bram about keeping my secret, but so far, the two of us haven’t been alone for even a moment.

  I spend much of my time on the deck—icy wind in my face—gazing toward home. When I took the journey to Ivory Hall on my other path, did I feel this alone? As if there’s not a shoulder in the world where I can rest my head?

  As we get closer to the capital, my anxiety grows until I feel as if I’ve swallowed an entire hive of bees. I’m not going to get an opportunity to talk to Bram unless I make one. We’re never going to be alone. I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation when I thought we’d have privacy, but imagining broaching the subject with spectators around makes me want to launch myself overboard and sink to the bottom of the Shard.

  I find him the next evening, as he’s finishing a meal with one of the other Breakers. The two of them lean back in their chairs, hands clasped loosely behind their heads. As I approach, their laughter dies off in a way that makes me feel like an interloper.

  I rub my palms on my pants to dry them. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I ask Bram. My gaze slides to the other Breaker. “Alone?”

  “Sure,” Bram says, standing.

  His dining partner raises his eyebrows and gives us both a knowing look that makes my cheeks go hot.

  I grab Bram’s elbow and pull him far enough away so the Breaker won’t be able to hear us.

  “Saskia, what’s going on? Is everything all right?”

  I shove my hand into the pocket of my cloak and curl my fingers around Gran’s healed bone. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving it behind, and now I cling to it like a lifeline. “We were matched on my other path.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. It wasn’t what I intended to say—not exactly. My already-flushed skin now feels on fire, and I wish I could melt into the deck and disappear.

  Bram’s eyes go wide and then he starts laughing. The sound stings like a slap.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “It’s just—you and I—that seems … an unlikely pairing.”

  My fingers unconsciously circle the love tattoo around my wrist, which is as bright as it was the day it appeared. “Yes, well …” I stammer.

  “Well, what?” His voice is still full of humor. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Now that I’ve seen his reaction, I’m asking myself the same question. I guess some part of me was hoping his feelings were similar—an unexplained closeness that he can’t account for. A longing to be together that makes no sense. But I’m being ridiculous. My feelings aren’t real. Not in this life.

  I stare out at the water, shimmering in the gentle light of the setting sun, while I gather my thoughts. Then I turn back to Bram. “I just wanted you to know that in some version of reality, you cared about me. That you wouldn’t want to see me harmed.”

  “I don’t want to see you harmed in this reality,” he says. “We’ve had our issues in the past, but I’m not a monster.”

  “I know, but you’ve seen things that could get me in trouble. That could sully my mother’s legacy.” I can still picture the shock in his expression as he watched me do a reading on Gran’s healed bone after my mother had died.

  But you aren’t trained, he said when I prepared to prick my own finger. Are you?

  I’m trained enough.

  My cloak suddenly feels too tight and I tug at the collar. “I just want to make sure you won’t betray me.”

  The amusement vanishes from Bram’s face, and something dark flashes across his expression so quickly, I think I might have imagined it.

  “Of course I won’t.” His voice is gruff.

  I don’t know if I can believe him. Ami advised me to trust my gut. But what if my gut doesn’t know the difference between this reality and any other?

  My fingers twine together so tightly that my knuckles turn white. “No one can know about my other path,” I tell him, my voice low and urgent. “No one can know that my mother taught me bone charming.”

  He touches my shoulder lightly. “I won’t say anything. You can trust me.”

  An image of Declan rises in my mind. His bright green eyes dancing with laughter. Color flooding his pale cheeks the first time we kissed.

  “The last time I trusted someone, he got my mother killed.” I turn away to find a cluster of Breakers looking back and forth between me and Bram with curious expressions.

  Behind me, Bram starts to say something more, but then one of the crew members comes past us carrying a bundle of tangled fishing net. “Could I get a hand with this?”

  “Of course.” Bram hurries forward and whatever he was going to say is forgotten. Our ship arrives in the middle of the night. The harbor is lit by a full moon and puddles of pale yellow light from the oil lamps lining the pier. It’s quiet, except for the occasional screech of the Watcher-controlled birds that circle overhead.

  Ivory Hall gleams in the distance like a diamond against a velvet sky.

  Norah meets us onshore. “Saskia,” she says, catching my hands in hers, “I’m so relieved to see you.” Her silver hair glimmers in the moonlight, and is twisted into a knot at the back of her head.

  “It really wasn’t necessary to send so many people to travel with me.”

  She gives me a tight smile. “I assure you, it was.”

  A chill goes through me, and I pull my gray cloak more tightly around my shoulders. The Grand Council’s search for Latham must not be going well.

  Norah’s gaze sweeps over the group of Breakers and lands on Bram, who is standing a few steps closer than the others. She turns to him. “I’d like to speak with Saskia alone. Why don’t you go on ahead? I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

  Bram’s eyes meet mine just for a moment. He lifts one hand in a silent farewell before jogging toward the broad lane that leads to Ivory Hall. All but one of the Breakers follow him, and I’m left alone on the pier with Norah and a huge man with chiseled features and dark hair cropped close to his scalp. He wears a black cloak with a thick white stripe on the sleeve.

  “This is Rasmus,” Norah says. “He’ll be assigned to you for the duration of your training. You’ll be safe enough within the walls of Ivory Hall, but if you need to leave for any reason, Rasmus will accompany you.”

  I swallow. “A bodyguard?” Being constantly watched on the trip here was bad enough, but the thought of someone following me for months makes me feel like boarding another ship and sailing straight back to Midwood. “Am I in that much danger?”

  “It’s out of an abundance of caution,” she says. But her worried expression tells a different story. She touches me lightly on the shoulder. “I assure you, Rasmus will be discreet. You’ll barely know he’s there.”

  The Breaker is the size of a small mountain. I’m certain I’ll know he’s there.

  “There’s something I wanted to discuss with you,” Norah says. She threads her arm through mine and we begin walking. “I’m sure you’re still devastated about what happened with your mother.”

  Beside her, I stiffen. “Latham killing her, you mean?” I have no patience for my mother’s death being dipped in sugar to make it more palatable.

  She doesn’t respond for so long, I think she’s reconsidering her intentions for this conversation, but then she sighs. “I don’t mean to downplay it. But I do need to know I can trust you.”

  My breath lodges in my throat. Does she k
now I lied about being matched as a Bone Charmer?

  “What makes you think you can’t trust me?” I try to keep my voice steady and hope Norah can’t hear my heart thrashing against my rib cage.

  “When grief mixes with anger, it can work on us like a poison. Make us do things we otherwise would never consider.”

  She knows. She must.

  I glance over my shoulder at Rasmus, who looks alert and ready to spring into action. Maybe he’s here to detain me instead of protect me.

  “I never intended to—”

  Norah pats my arm. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” she says. “The Grand Council just needs to know that you’re going to let them take care of searching for Latham and meting out justice. I’m sure vengeance is tempting—it would be for anyone—but this is something the council is far better equipped to handle. Promise me you’ll let them?”

  I’m so grateful we’ve moved away from the lamplight, so that the darkness hides the relief I can feel melting over my expression. She’s not confronting me about something I did in the past. She’s worried about what I’ll do in the future.

  And she should be.

  But I can’t let her know the truth—that something ugly has been festering inside me for weeks now: a hatred that burns so brightly, I feel as if I’m on fire. And along with it an aching desire for revenge.

  “If I knew how to find him, I would have tried already.” It’s as honest an answer as I can muster. Because I’m determined to recover my mother’s bones no matter what assurances the council wants. But staying in the capital—in Norah and the council’s good graces—will give me the best chance of success. Latham lived and worked here. He must have left clues behind.

  Silence stretches between us, an empty space that Norah is waiting for me to fill with a vow.

  “I don’t have a plan for revenge,” I say finally. “I just want my mother’s bones back.” Strictly speaking, it’s true. Latham will pay for what he’s done—I intend to make him wish he’d never drawn breath—but I don’t have a strategy at the moment. My skills are no match for his. Not yet.

  “We have our best people working on returning them to you,” she says, squeezing my arm. “I promise.”

  Norah and I continue toward the wide lane that climbs to Ivory Hall, and my erratic pulse slowly returns to normal. Rasmus follows behind, moving as silently as if he were weightless. It occurs to me that Norah intends for him to be my jailer as well as my guardian. I can’t search for Latham very effectively if I’m being followed every time I leave Ivory Hall.

  At least she accepted my response without forcing me to make a commitment. Norah didn’t get a promise from me tonight.

  But I’m glad I got one from her.

  “Brace yourself,” Norah says when we reach the enormous entrance to Ivory Hall. Bright moonlight illuminates arched double doors inlaid with a design of branches that mimic the Shard River. We’ve been climbing the hill for the better part of half an hour and my legs are tired and twitching.

  “Brace myself for what?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Rasmus goes in first, and Norah and I follow closely behind.

  I press a hand to my chest. It’s as if we’ve stepped directly from the crisp autumn air into a winter palace made of snow and ice. The floors, walls, and ceilings are made from the same white stone as the exterior of the building. Huge chandeliers hang from above, casting soft light around the grand foyer. Dual staircases—with white steps and white banisters—curve elegantly toward the upper floors.

  A gentle hum comes from somewhere in the distance.

  Norah touches my elbow. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yes,” I say, turning toward her. “I just didn’t expect it to be so beautiful.” A furrow appears between her brows, and a thread of unease goes through me. I feel as if I’ve failed some important test. “What is it? Did I say something wrong?”

  “Ivory Hall is made entirely of bone,” she says. “Most Charmers become quite ill upon arrival.”

  Inwardly, I wince at the misstep. I search my memory from reading Gran’s bone. How did I react in my alternate past? An image rises in my mind: the room spinning, a buzz in my ears, overwhelming nausea. Why don’t I feel any of that now? I shouldn’t have come here. I have too many secrets to keep, and eventually one of them will land me on Fang Island.

  Suspicion sparks in Norah’s eyes as she studies me. I press the backs of my fingers to my mouth, and her expression relaxes just a fraction. Maybe she’s mistaken my panic for illness. It might be the only thing that saves me.

  “Could I sit down a moment?” I ask.

  “Ah, it’s caught up to you,” she says, not unkindly. “Of course you may.”

  Norah guides me to a chair and a strong feeling of having sat in this exact spot before overtakes me. I think of my mother’s words as she cradled Gran’s broken bone at my kenning. We’ve done this before. I wonder if she felt then as I do now—like she was hearing the melody of a long-forgotten lullaby, but the words were just out of reach.

  A pang of longing for her hits me so hard that it snatches my breath away. The grief comes in waves, crashing over me when I least expect it, before receding again. But I don’t think it will ever disappear. It will be lapping at the shores of my mind forever.

  The hum in the room grows louder. I look around, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.

  “What is that noise?” I ask.

  “It’s just the walls whispering,” Norah says nonchalantly. “It will fade.” She holds out a hand and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s get you some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  Norah leads me down a corridor off the main foyer. We pass a large dining hall with tables that stretch the length of the room, and beyond that a kitchen that looks big enough to feed the entire town of Midwood. Finally she opens the door to a small room just big enough for a narrow bed and a small bureau.

  “We’ll find you more permanent sleeping arrangements tomorrow,” Norah says, “but I don’t want to traipse through the girls’ dormitory at this hour and wake all the apprentices.”

  She must see something unexpected in my expression, because she pauses for just a moment, her fingers curling around the door frame, and gives me a sympathetic frown. “I know this is a lot of change all at once. I’ll do my best to make sure you have friends here. That you feel welcomed.”

  I want to tell her I don’t need her help making friends. I’d rather have her focus on making sure Latham pays for what he’s done. On getting my mother’s and Gran’s bones back before Latham uses them. But the words stick in my throat, and I just nod.

  Norah pats my arm again. “Get some rest, and if you need anything, just call out. Rasmus will be close by.”

  I think of all the times over the last few weeks I’ve felt the weight of a gaze at my back, and wonder if Norah had people watching me in Midwood, too.

  After she leaves, I change into my sleeping clothes and crawl under the covers. I pull the blanket all the way to my chin. The sounds in Ivory Hall are unfamiliar, and I feel unsettled in such a strange place. But home wasn’t the same without my mother anyway. And it won’t be the same until I have her bones back, and Gran’s, too. It takes me a long time to drift off, but eventually the promise of revenge lulls me to sleep.

  The nightmares follow me to Ivory Hall.

  I dream of my mother’s death in vivid, horrid detail. Followed by Latham coming toward me with a weapon in his hand.

  I jolt awake, sweating and gasping for breath. I stuff my knuckles into my mouth to keep from screaming.

  Only a bad dream, I tell myself. Only my mind using my fear as fuel to re-create traumatic memories and invent new worries.

  I reach for the wall to steady myself so I can sit up. But the moment my skin makes contact, I’m yanked back into the nightmare. I stand in a large space of some kind. The walls are lined with shelves overflowing with spell books, boxes of bones, unusual weapons, candles in variou
s stages of use.

  Music floats on the air.

  I turn and see Latham, eyes eager and bright. And then the sword begins to fall.

  I pull away from the wall and wrap my arms around my knees. Slow, cold horror settles over me. Norah’s voice echoes in my head: Ivory Hall is made entirely of bone.

  What if my dreams aren’t nightmares? What if they’re premonitions? Just now, when I touched the wall … I don’t know how it would be possible without blood or flame, but it felt just like a bone reading. Of the future.

  Of my death.

  Chapter Three

  The next morning, I wake to gentle rapping. I scrub at my eyes, disoriented. It takes me a moment to figure out where I am, but when I do, the night before rushes back, and my stomach lurches. Another knock sounds, and a girl around my own age pokes her head through the door.

  “Saskia?”

  I pull myself into a sitting position. “Yes?”

  The girl enters and gives me a bright smile. She’s holding a tray laden with fruit and bread. Her wide brown eyes are framed by thick lashes, and dark curly hair tumbles down her back all the way to her waist. She reminds me of someone, but I can’t figure out who.

  “Are you hungry?” I open my mouth to answer, but she slides the tray across my lap and keeps talking. “I guess that’s a silly question, since it’s nearly time for the midday meal and you haven’t had anything to eat since yesterday. Unless Norah offered you a light meal last night? It doesn’t seem like she would have, but she surprises all of us sometimes.”

  She pauses and tilts her head to one side as if she’s waiting for a reply.

  “No, Norah didn’t offer me a meal.” I pick up a deep purple berry from the tray. “And yes, I’m hungry.”

  “I thought you would be.” She sits on the end of the bed. A smattering of white star-shaped tattoos curve around the back of her ear, and her right arm is covered in indigo swirls. “I’m Tessa, by the way, your new roommate.”