Page 43 of Bound

She sighed and turned toward the oven. Through several mistakes that led to her smoking out the room, she finally discovered that it did not work like the clay oven in her cottage. Instead, there were tiny dials on top that, when pressed, made an enchantment on the side of the oven glow blue. Then the oven would warm up, getting hotter the more she turned the dial.

No wood needed. No coal, not even oil. Just a dial and a glowing enchantment that Slate didn’t seem to know anything about.

“I never come in here,” Slate explained when she asked about it. “I have no use for cooked meat.”

Ruby slung the rabbit over her shoulder and dragged over a chair that she had found in a nearby room. It was metal, which had to be why it hadn’t rotted yet. But it was covered in rust, and she grimaced as she climbed onto it. It felt like it would cave at any second.

Slate’s rough voice spoke up from the door. “A fire seems easier.”

Ruby looked over from her precarious position in front of the oven. She could reach the dials from here—barely. The chair only pushed her up so far.

“A firewouldbe easier,” she replied. “But I’m not in the mood to twirl a spit. If I can make this oven work, I can walk away until it’s done.”

She strained to reach the main dial.

Slate stepped forward. “I can do it.”

“I got it,” she said, winded. Her stomach pressed into the oven.

She flicked the dial on with a triumphant noise. The enchantment on the side flickered to life, blaring blue light.

Ruby jumped back to the floor and rearranged the skinned rabbit hanging over her shoulder. “There! Now all I need to do is cut this up, and I have a few days of meals.”

Slate eyed the tall countertops that Ruby would strain to reach even with the chair. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“Well,” Ruby said, trying to keep her smile. “I was just going to use the knife you made me and…”

Slate took the rabbit from her shoulder and dumped it onto the counter. Then he started dragging his claw over it.

Ruby watched him, surprised. He was cutting it into sections, the way she would do it. Had he been watching mortals again, figuring out how to cook?

She leaned her chin on the countertop, straining to even do that.

“What lived here?” she asked in a rush. “Before you.”

Slate grunted, pushing his claw between the rabbit’s shoulders. “Nothing that exists today.”

Ruby paused. He said it in the same tone that he had answered her questions about the enchantment that powered the oven: like he didn’t know the full story and didn’t want her to guess.

Ruby looked around the giant kitchen at the rusted implements she didn’t recognize and the strange contraptions among the counters. Whatever society had built this, Ruby had heard nothing about it. She had been taught that Skullstalkers came to life along with every other spirit, and mortals came notlong after. There was nothing before Skullstalkers—or at least, that was what Ruby had been told.

“Why do I know nothing of them?” Ruby asked.

“Mortals know little of the voids.”

“Yes, but…” Ruby bit her lip. “There would be evidence of them in the mortal realm, wouldn’t there?”

“There is. You simply don’t recognize it.” Slate gathered the rabbit chunks in his claws and held them out. “Here you go.”

“Oh! Thank… you.” Not knowing what else to do, Ruby let him pile them in her arms.

Slate turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Ruby repeated as he exited. Then she sighed, nose wrinkling in disgust at the rabbit meat dampening her dress. She would have to get him to re-materialize it after she was finished in here. She wished she knew how to do it herself—as long as he still had control over it, too. A big draw of this dress was how he could wave it away with a flick of his wrist.

She dragged out a tray and set it on the floor, ignoring the rust but also the disappointment in her stomach.

Just because you’re staying in his void doesn’t mean he wants to stay and chat,she reminded herself.He said it himself: he values his solitude.

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