Our stunned silence is all the answer she needs.
“Good. Now kindly leave. My tea is getting cold.”
I turn to the others. “Go. I’ll be right there.” Reluctantly, they shuffle out, but I hang back. Norah’s betrayal stings like acid in a fresh wound. I want answers.
“Why?” I ask softly. “Why would you help him?”
Norah’s expression gentles, but I can’t tell if it’s false or genuine. “I’m no fan of Latham, but in this case, our interests happen to align. I’m in a unique position to see how Kastelia hamstrings some of our best and brightest talents by limiting their potential. I’ve tried for years to get the binding lifted, but the Grand Council won’t listen to reason.”
“But Latham is evil. You’re really willing to sacrifice my life so he can get his way?”
She gives me an apologetic frown. “Even evil people are right sometimes. And leadership is all about difficult choices.”
Master Kyra said something similar not too long ago, but I don’t think this is what she had in mind.
“Is our final challenge even real? Or is it just another way for Latham to torture me?”
“Can’t it be both?” she asks. Our eyes lock for a beat, and then she sighs. “Of course it’s real. And maybe if you succeed, we can both get what we want.”
I don’t have the courage to ask if both means me and Norah or Norah and Latham. But even if I did, I’m not sure she’d tell me the truth. Either way, Latham’s trap is well laid.
And if I want to find him, I have no choice but to walk into it.
The night air is frigid. Fog rolls across the hilly terrain. I shove my hands into the pockets of my cloak, and my fingers close around Gran’s healed bone like it’s a lifeline. I think of watching myself sail away from Midwood on my other path. How I gazed up at the sky dotted with stars and thought they looked like bones scattered on velvet. I felt as if I could divine the whole world’s fate if I only knew how to read them.
But tonight the clouds are so thick, I can’t see a single star. The fate of Kastelia is a mystery.
The six of us hike down the now-familiar path into the city. We could have waited until morning to leave Ivory Hall, but our meeting with Norah left us all raw and restless. None of us would have felt safe enough to close our eyes within those walls tonight. And so we gathered enough supplies to make it through the next few days and then we left. The city streets are deserted. Lamplight puddles on the cobbles.
We find a bench and sit, huddled together against the cold.
“I’m sorry,” I say, finally. “I’ve ruined this for everyone.”
“Latham ruined it,” Bram mutters. “Norah did.”
“Why didn’t you tell us about your mastery tattoo?” Tessa asks. Her voice is soft. Careful. But I don’t miss how it’s shot through with an undercurrent of pain.
“You knew I could use Third Sight. You saw me do it in Latham’s shop.”
“Yes,” she says gently, “so why not tell us about the tattoo?”
“I don’t know. After Jensen—”
“Latham did it on purpose,” Bram says. “He gave us a trial that would make Saskia feel like she couldn’t trust us. It was designed to be a wedge.”
He’s right. Of course, he’s right. Latham has been controlling the bone games to torture me as much as possible this whole time. But the way Bram says it—as if he’s come to some realization that’s left him troubled—gives me the nagging sense that I’m missing something.
“Well, it didn’t work,” Jacey says. “We’re not going to abandon you.”
I sigh. “Maybe you should.”
Talon snorts. “That’s ridiculous. We would never.” His hand is still clutched around the details for our next challenge, which has grown limp with sweat.
Niklas drops his gaze to the folded parchment. “We should probably see which criminal we’re supposed to find.”
“I guess we should,” Talon says. His hands shake as he opens the document and spreads it over his lap.
My heart takes off at a gallop. I’m fully expecting to see Latham’s name staring up at us—it would be fitting for him to design a final bone game that forcibly lead us to him. So when I see the name Rayna Roe printed in neat block letters, a long breath sags out of me. I’m not sure if it’s relief or disappointment. On one hand, I’m itching for a confrontation. The rage that burns in my chest needs a target before it destroys me from within. Then again, I don’t feel ready to face Latham just yet. I’m not sure I ever will.
Jacey taps the page with her fingertip. “She’s a Bone Handler.”
I gaze down the list of crimes and my stomach curdles. Preparing illegally obtained bones. Selling stolen goods. Facilitating murder. I’m reminded again of Declan—the sharp sting of betrayal when I found him selling my father’s bones in the shadow market, the horror at realizing he’d helped arrange the murders of two members of Midwood’s town council. Perhaps that’s the point—Latham wants me to remember the wounds of the past. To be tortured anew. The more I suffer, the more powerful my bones will be when he finally kills me. But I won’t give him the satisfaction. I’ll treat this challenge like the game it is. I push aside my feelings and clear my throat.
“It looks like she worked here in the city before she went missing. Maybe we should start at the bone house.”
“I agree,” Jacey says. “It seems like that’s where the council would have started when they were searching for her.”
Talon yawns. “Do you think we could close our eyes first? Just for a little while?”
“The bone house won’t be open at this hour anyway,” Bram says. “Rest. I’ll keep the first watch.”
I’ve never been more exhausted, yet more certain I won’t be able to sleep. Even so, maybe I’ll close my eyes for just a moment—it’s better than nothing. I must drift off, because the next thing I know, sunlight is filtering through the clouds.
But my future still looks as dim as ever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The bone house in Kastelia City is nothing like the one in Midwood. It’s huge—a stone structure that looks more like a castle than a cottage. And when we step inside, instead of one Master Bone Handler and an apprentice, we find more than a dozen of each. Apprentices sit at large circular tables, hunched over bones in various states of preparation. Some of the Handlers work on cleaning the bones—scooping out marrow with small wooden spoons, dunking bones in bleaching solutions, or clearing off dust with small brushes. Other Handlers sit at tables painting on replicas of tattoos. Still others poke holes in the bones with small metal pinners and submerge them in various solutions.
The sight deflates me. There are so many Bone Handlers here. It will take hours to question them all, and we don’t even know where to start. But then I remember that Rayna Roe has probably been rotting on Fang Island for years already. This is a reenactment of a case. I glance around for anyone who looks like they don’t belong. Who looks like they might be an actor instead of a real Bone Handler.
An apprentice approaches us, tall and gangly, a thin coat of white dust covering his green apron. “Can I help you?”
“We have a few questions,” Tessa says. “We’re looking for someone who might have trained here. Or maybe trained others?” She bites her lip as she glances down at the parchment. “There’s no age listed.”
The apprentice cocks his head to one side. “Does this person have a name?”
Tessa blushes. “Oh. Yes, of course. Her name is Rayna Roe.”
A dark cloud passes over the apprentice’s face, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. He glances over both shoulders as if he’s worried someone overheard the question.
“Sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“I think you’re lying,” Bram says.
The apprentice shoots a furtive look at the pouch hanging from Bram’s belt. He licks his lips. “I don’t want any trouble.”
Ice slides down my spine. He
doesn’t seem like he’s acting. He seems genuinely afraid.
“Let us be clear,” I say. “We’re not trying to break any rules. And we’re not asking you to break any rules. We’re just wondering if you’ve ever heard of Rayna Roe. Please? It’s important.”
“We could always try asking someone else,” Talon says, standing on his tiptoes and glancing around the room.
The apprentice puts a hand on Talon’s forearm. “Don’t bother. No one will tell you anything.”
Bram gives him a pointed glare, and the apprentice seems to wither under his gaze. “I don’t know much,” he says. “Only that there were rumors a while back—”
“Sven,” one of the Masters barks from across the room. “What’s going on over there?”
“Just answering some questions.” His voice wavers a bit, and even from here I can see the Master’s eyes narrow in suspicion.
“What kind of rumors?” I ask, my voice low and urgent. The Master starts to head in our direction.
The apprentice shifts his weight. “Some said that Master Rayna was doing work in a shadow market near the Mandible District.”
“Thank you,” I say, just as the Master reaches us.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“We were just asking a few questions about Rayna Roe,” Niklas says.
The Master’s face goes ashen. “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourselves into?”
Suddenly I’m certain that Rayna Roe is not a captured criminal. No one can act this convincingly. Latham and Norah sent us after a Bone Handler who hasn’t been apprehended yet.
Another apprentice hurries over and tugs on the Master’s sleeve. “Have you seen the neutralizing powder? We just had an acid spill and it’s eating through the floor.”
The Master groans. Then he points a bony finger at us. “I’ll be back in just a moment. Wait right here.”
But we don’t. The moment he looks away, we run.
The Mandible District is on the outskirts of Kastelia City in the opposite direction of the bone house. We walk all day, chasing the sun as it moves lower and lower in the sky before it finally sinks below the horizon. The gas lamps that line the street grow farther and farther apart until they disappear altogether. Gradually, the broad streets transform into narrow, crooked alleys. Stray dogs rummage through trash heaps, their ribs clearly visible under patchy fur. And then a dog walks by with no fur at all. No skin. No eyes. Just an animated skeleton that is clearly the result of dark magic. I resist the urge to gag.
We pass a gambling den where patrons toss dice made of bone. Dice that have the power to reward or punish bets on the spot—winners receive the prize of pleasure; losers pay with pain. Through the window we can see a woman sitting with a crowd at a round table, a pair of dice sitting near her clenched fist. Her head is thrown back, her mouth open in a silent scream. I’m not sure if she won or lost.
A man stumbles out of a building, clutching a drink in his hand that sloshes over his shoes.
A well-dressed woman walks by with a tiny whistle dangling from her bright red lips like a cigar.
Another storefront with darkened windows has a Breaker guarding the door. I make eye contact and he tosses a set of cervical vertebrae in the air, catches them, and rolls them over his knuckles like he’s performing a magic trick instead of issuing a threat.
“I hate this,” Tessa whispers.
“Just keep your head down and keep moving,” Bram says.
As we travel through the Mandible District, I can’t help but wonder what horrors the shadow market is concealing. The thought sends gooseflesh racing over my arms.
I’ve only been to a shadow market once in my life, and it was one time too many. In Midwood, the market was housed on a merchant ship that docked somewhere different each night to escape the notice of the town council. But as this shadow market finally comes into view, I realize they have no such worries about the Grand Council. The market isn’t hidden; it’s on display like a jewel in a glass case.
A huge complex made of clear glass stretches as far as the eye can see. Even though it’s after dark, inside it’s as well lit as if it were broad daylight.
And the patrons are dressed in finery worthy of a ball. Silk cloaks with intricate patterns embroidered in threads of gold, gowns with rows of tiny bone-crafted buttons, oversized jewels that glitter on every throat and finger. It’s both a celebration of the Mandible District’s debauchery and a mockery of its poverty. It’s grotesque.
But I can’t let it show on my face. We have to convince the Breakers standing at the entrance to let us in. I stop and turn to the others.
“I should go in alone.” I incline my head toward the guards. “They’ll never let all six of us through.”
Talon scratches the back of his neck. “No. That’s a terrible idea.”
“I agree,” Niklas says. “We’d have no way to know if you’re in trouble.”
I turn toward Tessa and Jacey, but both of them have identical expressions of worry on their faces.
“I don’t know,” Tessa says. “It seems too dangerous.”
I sigh. “I’m the one Latham wants. I should be the one to take the risk.”
“I’ll go with you,” Bram says.
I turn toward him. “You don’t have to—”
“Of all of us, I’m the one best equipped to protect you if something goes wrong.”
“It makes sense,” Jacey says. “I’d feel better if Bram went too. I think we all would.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” But before I can move, something scurries across the top of my foot. I let out a yelp and jump back. A huge rat disappears into the gutter.
I press my hand to my chest. “Did anyone see that?”
Talon’s eyes dart from the ground to something in the distance. “That was no ordinary rat.”
“I know.” My heart is still beating at twice the normal speed. “It was huge.”
“Not just that,” Talon says. “It was Watcher-controlled.” He nods to a woman across the street, and jolt of recognition goes through me.
“I saw her a few minutes ago,” I tell him. “I thought she had a whistle, but it must have been a tiny bone flute.”
“Spy rats?” Bram says, his voice disbelieving.
“I’m afraid so,” Talon says. He looks at me. “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I, but what choice do we have? If we bail now, we fail the challenge. You’ll all be stripped of your magic and go home with nothing. And if I don’t find Latham, I won’t ever get my mother’s bones back.”
I don’t add that my thirst for revenge is propelling me forward more than it ever has before. That I would do anything to watch Latham suffer.
Tessa grabs my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Be careful.”
I turn and pull her into an embrace. “I’m just going in to ask questions. Rayna Roe probably isn’t even here. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll come find you if you’re not back soon.”
“Sounds like a plan.” But we both know she’s unlikely to get past the guards. If I don’t come back, there’s very little she can do about it.
I try to keep my breathing even as Bram and I approach the entrance to the shadow market. I have the advantage of seeing Audra do this once before. It’s important that I project confidence. Act like I belong.
But when we get to the door, the guard doesn’t hesitate. “Not a chance,” he says without looking at us. “Move along.”
“We’re here to see Master Rayna.”
He snorts. “Master Rayna?”
My neck goes hot as I realize my mistake—the show of deference seems out of place here. I make my expression go steely.
“If you knew her, I think you’d find she prefers the title. Now, can you let us pass?”
He turns a withering gaze on me. “You have a lot of nerve attempting to command me.”
Panic closes my throat. But I force myself to stay calm. “And you have a lot of nerve to den
y me entrance.”
We stand there a moment, eyes locked in a battle of wills.
“I’m not leaving until I get what I came for,” I say finally.
He laughs. “And what exactly did you come for?”
“Revenge.”
Something like grudging admiration washes over his expression, as if I’ve finally convinced him I belong in a place like this. He chuckles. Then he steps aside and motions me forward with a gallant sweep of his arm. “Far be it from me to stand between a lady and her vengeance.”
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Bram says as we wander through the shadow market. His voice is a mixture of horror and awe. It’s exactly how I feel.
In one booth, a Healer works on a man’s face—changing the shape of his nose, the height of his forehead, the fullness of his lips. At first, I assume it’s for vanity’s sake, but then it occurs to me that the man is probably a criminal changing his appearance to evade punishment.
In another booth, Mixers offer patrons small goblets of potions in electric colors—bright greens and blues and oranges. Other patrons sniff finely milled bone powders from glass trays.
We pass tables of stolen goods, clothes studded with bone fragments, weapons in all shapes and sizes.
I spot a tannery displaying a selection of leather products—some of them tattooed—and revulsion swells inside me. Is this where Latham had the spell book made?
All around us things are happening that would shock us if we saw them in isolation. But gathered in one place, it’s a tsunami of illegal activity that leaves me craving a shower.
Finally I spot a woman working with a set of tools I recognize—small brushes, tiny spoons, flat blades. I think of Ami back in Midwood using an identical set in her duties as a Bone Handler.
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