Page 6 of Wilds of Wonder
Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes that I brushed away.
I stalked down the wooden stairs at the end of the hallway, which creaked under my feet, then swept through the kitchen, now dark and silent. I opened the door to the cellar, creeping down the stairs.
I felt for the matches that sat on a shelf above my head, then lit the sconce on the wall. A glow flickered over the room. Canned goods, vegetables, and fruits lined the shelves on the wall, and barrels filled the space, brimming with water, ale, and wine. No one came down here, save our cook, and even then, she wouldn’t find my hiding spot for my most treasured artifacts.
I squeezed through the barrels and tiptoed to the back of the cellar, slipping a stone block out of the wall. A chest sat there, wooden and carved with seashells and fish. I’d come across it one day when foraging by the icy waters of the Silver Seas and immediately noticed the strange carvings on its sides. After further research about the curious fish with their twisted bodies that looked like ropes twined together, I’d realized the carvings were an ancient species. A species that existed in the Old World when the Seven Spirits still walked among elementals, ruled over them, were adored by them. That had been before they’d destroyed the Old World—and everyone who lived in it—and then disappeared and hadn’t been seen since.
I snorted as I slid the box from its hiding place, cradling it gingerly. That was the story we’d been told anyway. That the Seven Spirits haddecided to go to Galaysia, the spirit world, and no longer meddle in mortal lives. I had a hunch that there was much more to the story. There always was when it came to history.
This chest, for example. After I found out that it dated back to the Old World, I’d studied it further. I ran my finger over the gold lining the bottom. Gold was a popular stylistic choice in the Old World for those who could afford it, which was very few. But even those who could afford to make a chest with actual gold wouldn’t have. They saw something like that as frivolous. Only the spirits owned things made with gold.
Which meant this chest had to have belonged to one of the Seven Spirits. Spirit Water, if I had to guess. I’d come across a priceless treasure chest, right there on the sandy beach of the frigid Silver Seas.
I sank to the floor and opened it to reveal my most treasured artifacts: a shimmering ruby ring, a delicate wine glass, a beautiful blue scarf, a small calcified rabbit foot, an ancient dagger with a stone hilt. Each of these items was special for a different reason: the first one I ever discovered, the first time I’d taken something from the frost castle, the first time I met the bone collector. My breath hitched. Little mementos.
And now I’d have to give them all up.
Tears welled in my eyes once again as I dug the ring I’d stolen out of my nightgown pocket and dropped it into the box. Tonight, I’d be getting rid of it all. Then I’d go to the bunker where I hid the rest of my artifacts, and I’d empty it out. I wouldn’t destroy any of it. I couldn’t bear to. But I would leave them somewhere they could be discovered.
Once upon a time, I’d hoped that one day I could collect enough artifacts, perhaps do enough research of significance to impress my husband and the Academy of Scholars & Historians. That maybe I could join and become an esteemed historian, advise the queen, like Maverick Von Lucas.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
This was for the best, I reminded myself.
It was nothing more than a dream. My husband would never allow it, and if he ever found out about this, he’d likely turn me in for stealing. It was everyone’s duty to take ancient artifacts directly to the frost queen. According to Her Majesty’s credence, these artifacts did notbelong to those who found them. They belonged to her, belonged to the academy, where they could be catalogued, studied. By real historians. Not those like me who played pretend.
I blew out a shaky breath. I’d take this chest now and be back before my husband awoke, and the white rabbit would officially be no more.
“So it’s true,” a voice said from behind me.
My blood turned to ice as I straightened.
“You are the white rabbit,” my husband growled.
His wings rustled as he stepped closer, and the sour odor of dried sweat filled the air. He always smelled of sweat, especially after he drank, and bile rose in my throat.
I slowly stood, leaving the open chest on the ground behind me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I crossed my arms, and he let out a laugh.
“Oh, Emory.” He lifted his hand, and that’s when I realized he was holding my white fur cloak. The one that had earned me my nickname. I always kept it hidden in a secret compartment of my wardrobe.
Not as secret as I’d hoped. I’d been such a fool.
“You really thought you could get away with all of this?” He gestured to the chest behind me. “Stealing important historical artifacts and keeping them for yourself? What were you going to do? Sell them and buy passage out of this place? Away from your life? From me? Is that what you want?”
My upper lip curled. “It would be hard for you to know what I want when you never bother to ask. I am more than just your wife, you know.”
“Really?” He laughed, the sound cruel. “You attended the Academy of Ladies. Your mother’s greatest dream for you was to become my wife.”
His words brought back the memories of me begging my mother to send me to any other academy, but she insisted that was not the right path for me. Said I would be better off marrying a rich man who could provide a stable life for me, just like she’d done. So I got to learn what it meant to run a household, throw dinner parties, and make your future husband look good. Learn how to make yourself amenable to your husband, to meet his every need.
I swallowed.
My husband laughed again, no amusement behind the sound. “It was too easy, you know. I’ve had my suspicions about your identity for a while, especially after the maid found this white cloak in the back of your wardrobe and brought it to me. The staff might like you more, but I pay them to keep an eye on you. Then there’s the fact that you prattle on with everyone you meet about this artifact or that new historical finding that’s come out of the academy. How you practically drank up every word that came from Maverick Von Lucas’s mouth tonight. As if he’d ever care about meeting you.”
The words were a punch to my gut.
“So I asked Elisabeth to wear the ring. I told her it was a little game you and I were playing so she wouldn’t dig into it. I wondered if you’d take the bait. And you did. Slipped it right off her finger.” He nodded toward the chest behind me. “Divorce is allowed in Arathia but frowned upon. Imagine the scandal it would cause, how it would look. Me divorcing my beloved, dutiful wife. But now?” He stepped closer, wings spreading out behind him. “Now I have reason. You are a criminal and will be tried in the frost court, sentenced for your crimes. And me?” He pressed his hands to his chest. “Well, I’ll be the grieving husband. In shock over my wife’s horrible deception.”
