The Bone Thief

by Breeana Shields

  And the truth is, once I saw Gran’s broken bones, I didn’t explore the rest of the shop either. If I had, would things have turned out differently?

  “You couldn’t have known,” I tell him. But he still looks unnerved. And I know how he feels. I will be haunted forever by the ghosts of paths not taken.

  I climb to my feet and the world tilts to one side. I nearly topple over, but Bram catches me. Puts a steadying hand around my elbow.

  “Don’t touch me,” I say. “Please.”

  “Saskia.” Bram’s voice is raw, pleading. “Let’s talk about this.”

  The others are looking back and forth between us, confused. But I don’t explain.

  I pull in a deep breath and then I take a few shaky steps forward.

  “What are you doing?” Talon asks.

  “I have to go after Latham.”

  Tessa’s eyes widen. I can see the reflection of flames in her pupils. “Saskia, no. You’re still weak. You’ve lost too much blood.”

  “I don’t have a choice. He’s going to use the bones in my hand to change the past. I have to stop him.”

  “You’re in no condition to go running after anyone.” She presses a palm to my brow. “We need to get you to a Disease Healer. I did what I could for pain control, but you’re warmer than you should be. I’m worried about infection.”

  I shake her off. “None of that matters if Latham heals one of Gran’s bones.”

  “We’ll go to the Grand Council,” Tessa says. “Tell them what we know. They’ll be better equipped to handle this than we are. And they’ll have more resources, too.”

  “It would be pointless. One of them might be working with Latham and Norah. The only people in the world I can trust are right here.”

  “But what makes you assume we’d have any better luck?” Jacey asks gently. “We’re not even sure where he went, and even if we could stop him—”

  “He’ll go back to his shop. He has everything he needs to change the past now, and he won’t waste any time.”

  Tessa folds her arms across her chest and cradles her elbows in her palms. “Let’s try the Grand Council first. And then if they don’t—”

  Frustration builds inside me. A pressure behind my eyes. A weight in my chest. “I’m going now,” I say. “With or without the rest of you.”

  They all go silent. A held breath.

  And then Bram clears his throat. “I’ll go with you.”

  “I will too,” Talon says.

  Tessa digs her fingers into her hair. “Of course I’ll come along.” She looks at Jacey and Niklas, who both nod. “We all will. But not until I change those bandages and give you another pain spell.”

  But she can’t heal what really matters. She can’t crack open my chest to find my heart—bruised in shades of black and blue, yellow and green, tattered with grief and betrayal—and make it whole again.

  Some things can’t be mended.

  Before we leave the Mandible District, we go back inside the shadow market and gather supplies. Knives and daggers, cords made of bone fragments that clamp down with struggle.

  We walk through the night to make it back to Latham’s shop. I’m weak from blood loss, and the others take turns letting me lean on them for support. All except Bram, who stays at the back of the group.

  I’ve lost track of time, but I know we haven’t eaten or slept in far too long. And we don’t have time to do either right now.

  As we travel, I bite my cheek against the throbbing in my hand, before I realize that my hand is no longer there. A phantom pain that hurts just as much as if it were real. Like my other path on Gran’s healed bone. The ache of expecting something that isn’t there. The agony of absence.

  And so I focus on my anger instead. I let it fester and ooze. My father once said that anger was like paint on a wall—it might be the first thing you notice, but it’s always just covering up something else. You can’t actually build anything from it.

  But I think he’s wrong.

  I think if the anger is big enough, maybe it could build a whole world. A different future.

  As we draw closer to Latham’s shop, a thin strip of pale pink light hovers above the horizon. Bram draws up beside me and touches my shoulder lightly. “Can we talk?”

  I start to pull away, but he catches my fingers in his. “Saskia, please. Just let me say this.”

  I stop and spin to face him. “What? What could you possibly have to say to me?”

  The others exchange nervous glances and back off a little to give us space.

  Bram swallows. “I didn’t know who Latham was when he asked me to help him. If I’d had any idea he would use that knowledge to hurt you. To hurt anyone …” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I never should have trusted him. But I was flattered that one of the Masters thought I was gifted. Once I realized what he’d done, I was horrified. I’ve been tortured about this for months. I tried to tell you, but you asked me not to. I should have told you anyway.”

  Confusion washes over me. He never tried to tell me about this—but then I remember. That day on the grounds outside Ivory Hall when I thought, for just a moment, he might kiss me.

  Saskia, I need to tell you something.

  Is it going to break my heart?

  I’m afraid it might.

  “I thought you were going to tell me you still found the idea of being with me amusing.”

  He shakes his head. “I stopped finding it amusing a long time ago. And I can’t let you go into Latham’s shop without telling you how I feel.”

  My pulse speeds. “So tell me. How do you feel?” My heart feels like an open wound—raw and vulnerable to more damage.

  “I don’t want to lose you. Not ever again.”

  But he could be lying. Declan lied too. He pretended to love me at Latham’s instruction. And then, in the end, he led me right into a trap.

  My eyes fall to Bram’s wrist. It’s still bare.

  “You don’t have a tattoo.”

  He groans. Tunnels his fingers through his hair. “You can be so infuriating sometimes. I’ve done nothing but try to help you take down Latham. I’ve been by your side. I’ve kept your secrets. So if I’d done all those same things with a red line around my wrist, that would have made me more trustworthy?”

  “You helped Latham destroy my family.”

  “Before I knew what he was doing!” Bram’s eyes blaze, and I look away, stung.

  He puts a single index finger under my chin and gently lifts my face. His gaze finds mine and I feel like I’m drowning.

  “Please forgive me. I made the wrong choice and trusted the wrong person. I won’t do it again.”

  I feel as if he’s swept my feet out from under me. Turned the world on its head. I’ve spent months wishing he’d say what he just said. Wishing he’d look at me the way he’s looking at me now—like nothing else matters if things aren’t right between us. But now that he has, I don’t know if I can trust him.

  And I don’t get the chance to sort out my feelings before Talon steps forward and clears his throat. “I don’t mean to rush”—he waggles his fingers between us—“whatever is going on here, but we should probably make a plan.”

  I tear my gaze away from Bram. Shake my head to clear my thoughts. “Yes, you’re right.”

  “What do you need from us?” Jacey asks.

  “Latham will be wearing protective magic,” I say. “If we can work together to remove it, he’ll be vulnerable to attack. The five of you can try to kill him, while I work on healing the bones.”

  An awkward silence envelops us. They all avoid meeting my gaze. They’re not murderers.

  “If you don’t want to kill him, then incapacitate him instead. Tessa, do you think you can control my pain while I work?”

  “I’ll do my best,” she says.

  Niklas twists the ring on his finger. “Maybe I can help. I fuse bone pieces together sometimes when I’m creating objects. It’s probably a similar magic to mending.”
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  I turn and give him a small smile. “I’m sure you could attach the individual pieces, but I don’t think it would work to change the past. I think the bone needs to be healed as if it were inside a body.”

  “Why not let Tessa heal the bone?” Jacey asks. “Wouldn’t that work better?”

  I squeeze Tessa’s fingers. “I don’t think she can. I think it has to be me. My bones have to be used to complete the spell.”

  Jacey’s mouth twists. “How are you going to manage that?”

  I glance at Bram. “I’m going to try to draw the magic from my own bones to heal Gran’s. Bram and Tessa, I might need both of you to help coach me if I get stuck.”

  Talon throws his hands up in the air. “So I’m the only useless one here?”

  Jacey nudges his shoulder with her own. “Did you bring your flute? You could provide some background music.”

  He glares at her in a way that belies his affection, and my heart pushes against its borders. My mind is flooded with memories of our last few months together, and I have the sudden urge to refuse to heal anything so I can protect this version of reality—one where their friendship is a certainty. I don’t want to lose any of them. But I have to take the risk. If I truly care about my friends, I can’t leave them in a world where Latham could be sovereign. Even if I have to lose them trying to give them a better one.

  I turn and take in each of their faces. Tessa’s fiercely loyal expression. Jacey, whose chin is trembling just a little despite how hard she’s trying to hide her worry. Niklas and his quiet strength. Talon, who—even now, when things are dire—looks only a moment away from laughter.

  And Bram.

  Even with everything that has happened, I’d give anything not to lose him again.

  “If this works, everything might be different between us,” I tell them, letting my gaze fall on them one by one. “We might not remember this path. We might not remember one another at all.”

  Talon grins. “I’m like one of those ivy plants. Easy to find, but hard to get rid of once it’s taken root. I’ll be around whether you guys remember me or not.”

  Bram puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “If the worst happens, we’ll find one another again. We’ve done it before.”

  I take a deep breath. “We should each take a weapon.”

  Talon holds open the satchel from the shadow market. I choose a small dagger—the most I can manage with one hand—even if it is my dominant one.

  “We’re ready when you are,” Jacey says.

  As quietly as we can, we move closer to the door. I pull a pin from my hair and hand it to Bram, who quietly works the lock. We step over the threshold. The outer room is silent and still. What if we’re too late? What if Latham has already changed the past?

  A single crimson drop splashes on the ground beneath my feet. My wound has started seeping again and the bandage is soaked in fresh blood. If Latham had already healed one of the bones, my hand wouldn’t still be missing.

  “Stay behind me,” I whisper to the others as we creep to the hidden bookcase and ease open the door.

  The room looks different in the dim light. A collection of shadows and oddly shaped objects. Candles flicker throughout the space, bathing the room in a soft glow. Shadows climb the walls and spill across the floor.

  Latham is seated at the long wooden table in the center of the room, hunched over a set of Gran’s bones. He’s so focused on his task that he doesn’t hear us enter. Next to him is a jar filled with clear liquid. My hand floats inside, a bright red tattoo visible at the wrist.

  I clamp my lips together and fight the wave of nausea that rolls through me. A mix of relief and rage bubbles in my chest. He hasn’t completed the spell. He hasn’t changed the past, at least not yet.

  But the sight of my own bloated fingers bobbing in acid makes the loss of my hand feel even more real than my bandaged arm does.

  From the corner of my eye, I see a sudden movement on the other side of the room.

  “Latham, watch out!”

  The Bone Handler from the Mandible District moves out of the shadows. Latham spins around. His hand closes around the hilt of a blade as his gaze lands on me.

  “Rayna, get back.”

  But the warning is too late. Bram has already dipped his fingers into the bone pouch at his waist. Rayna lets out a bloodcurdling scream and her leg gives out beneath her. She crumples to the floor, her face a mask of agony.

  “Get away from my gran’s bones,” I say.

  Latham doesn’t move. His eyes fall to my arm. “Haven’t you suffered enough?”

  Bram reaches into his pouch again and snaps one of the small bones clean in half, but it doesn’t have any effect. Latham’s fingers go to the claw-shaped clasp at his throat. Protective magic. But if it blocks Bram’s abilities, it must be far more powerful than the pendant Avalina gave me.

  “My suffering will be minuscule compared to what I’m going to do to you.” The dagger in my hand trembles. It’s slick with sweat and slippery against my palm. I feel faint.

  “This will all be over soon,” Latham says. His voice has lost its usual edge. He says it almost tenderly. “Let me finish and your pain will vanish. You’ll be safe.”

  Talon inches closer to the table. In a flash, I understand what he’s doing. I have to keep Latham’s attention focused on me long enough for Talon to grab the jar that holds my hand. Latham can’t finish the spell without my bones.

  “I’ll be safe? You’ve been trying to kill me for months. You don’t care about my safety.”

  I push my hair off my forehead with my wrist. Talon takes another step.

  Latham cocks his head to one side. “What do you think will happen to you when the Grand Council finds out about your mastery tattoo? The fate I have planned for you is far more merciful than a lifetime spent on Fang Island.”

  “You don’t get to plan my fate.”

  He smiles as if I’ve told a clever joke. “I do now.”

  Talon’s hands close around the jar, and at the same moment, the rest of us rush forward. We try to pry the claw from Latham’s throat, but it holds fast. I let out a cry of frustration, but then a raven flies into the room at full speed and rams into Latham’s collarbone, tugging at the clasp with its beak. Finally it comes loose and clatters to the floor. At the same moment, Bram breaks one of the bones in his pouch and Latham’s femur snaps in half. His eyes go wide. He tumbles from the chair.

  His scream is music to my ears.

  “Tie him up over there,” I say.

  Niklas fishes the bone cord from the satchel and pulls Latham’s arms behind his back. He wraps the cord around his wrists several times. Latham struggles and the cord digs even deeper into his flesh. Rayna is still whimpering in the corner, and Niklas drags Latham across the floor and deposits him next to her.

  I gather supplies and bring them to the table—a bone knife, a needle, a velvet cloth. Then I carefully take all of the jars from the shelves and bring them to the table.

  Gran’s bones line up in front of me—broken, yet full of possibilities. They could be combined in endless different ways to change the past.

  A sense of calm settles over me.

  I don’t know if what I’m attempting is even possible. But if I fail, at least I will fail trying to avenge my mother and Gran.

  I remove the first bone from the nutrient solution and place it on the cloth. I touch one half and then the other—my fingertips resting on each just long enough to remind me of what I saw when I last read them. Latham at seventeen. One side of the bone, Latham’s father splits his coin between a kenning and matchmaking reading for his son. On the other half, he devotes the full amount to the kenning—more valuable bones, more expensively prepared.

  But I don’t want either option.

  I sift through my memory of a small, slender path I saw on one of the other bones. A path where Latham’s father lost a great deal of coin on a bad investment.

  It was an unlikely outcome in a
ny reality, but I’m going to make it happen.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” Latham says. His voice rattles from his throat, strained and full of pain.

  “Yes,” I tell him, “I do.”

  I open the jars one by one and touch each bone half until I find the one I’m looking for. I think back on one of the volumes on Bone Mending I’ve been studying. I practically memorized the section on bone grafts. Healers sometimes use donor bone fragments in their work—bits of bone belonging to another person that can be used to repair the bones of their patient.

  If I can use the same principle, I should be able to create one bone from many, allowing me to carefully select the exact paths that will bring Latham the most misery. But first, I’ll need to slice a small piece from this bone—just the corner, where I read the possibility of Latham’s father going broke.

  He can’t provide his son a deluxe kenning if he has no coin.

  I’m so focused on the task, I startle when a strangled noise pulls my gaze upward.

  The world goes silent and slow.

  Tessa stands in the doorway. A man I recognize is positioned behind her. It’s Latham’s Breaker, Lars, the same man who killed Declan in Midwood. Who protected Latham so he could kill my mother. He must have just arrived, and now he has one arm pressed across Tessa’s shoulders pinning her back to his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Saskia,” Tessa says. “I lost focus for just a moment. And I—” Her voice cuts off as he squeezes her windpipe with his free hand.

  I turn to Latham.

  “Tell him to let her go.”

  “Tell your friend to give me the jar.”

  I hesitate, my gaze skipping between Tessa and Latham. My mind scrambles for a way out of this. For a way to protect Tessa without giving up my hand. But I can’t think of one.

  “Give it to him,” I tell Talon.

  “Saskia—”

  “He’ll kill her,” I say. “Give it to him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Give it to him.” My voice is flat.

  Talon steps forward and places the jar on the floor halfway between me and Latham. Latham grimaces as he inches forward and snatches it up. He cradles it in the crook of his elbow.