Page 85 of Wilds of Wonder
“Not Maverick Von Lucas,” I challenged. He was a rising historian and scholar at the academy. I’d seen him speak a few times, and each time, his passion and excitement for the profession bled into me.
“You know, I bet Maverick was inspired by us,” the bone collector said, crossing his arms.
“What are you talking about?” I let out a laugh of disbelief.
He shrugged. “It wasn’t until our own reputations spread to the frost queen that he started going on his adventures. He’s the face of the academy because none of the other historians and scholars are willing to do what he does. They don’t really care about history, you know. They care about telling the frost queen’s story, the one she wants to perpetuate.”
“Stop,” I said. The academy had been my dream for as long as I could remember, and I wouldn’t let the bone collector ruin it. “We all have different values, different places in the world. Maybe one day we can be the historians, the collectors, we want to be. We can share this knowledge.”
“I think you’re trying to avoid my question,” he said like I hadn’t spoken at all.
Another gust of wind blew past us, and a flock of birds soaredoverhead through the dusky sky. Even though my husband was away on business, I needed to return home before the servants got suspicious.
“What are you talking about?” I stood, dusting the shimmers from my cloak, descending down the hill and toward the stone-paved road that wound through the highlands. “Did you hit your head a little too hard in that lighthouse?”
“No, I’m thinking very clearly. Maybe clearer than ever before.” He followed behind me. “And I want to know what you think.”
“About what?” I asked, acting exasperated, but I knew exactly what he was referring to. The question burned a little too hot in my blood. Seeing his face would be amazing. Knowing his name would be like a gift. But it would also be dangerous. So very dangerous.
“Have you ever wondered?” He gestured to his body. “What’s under this cloak. Because, little rabbit, I’ve wondered so very many times what’s under yours.”
Heat flushed my neck and cheeks, and I thanked the bloody spirits my face was hooded and covered.
I kept my voice light, teasing, even though it felt like a butterfly had taken up residence in my stomach. “That eager to uncover my secrets, Bone Collector?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Every single one.” He stepped closer, so close I could reach up and tug down his hood. “I want to know the secret to this.” He lightly touched my hood. “I want to know the secret to this.” He ran a featherlight touch over the scarf covering my face. “Mostly, I want to know the secret to this.” He lay a palm flat in the middle of my chest, right over my beating heart.
He must’ve felt the way it thundered like a stampede. The pound of it reverberated in my ears. I wanted that too. All of it. It would be so easy to reach up and take off my hood, to tug down that scarf covering my face. To unveil him. And then what would come next?
Spirits below, what was I thinking?
I stepped back. “Well, I can’t go giving away all my secrets. Where would be the fun in that?”
He didn’t move, didn’t say a word. I spun on my heel before he could persuade me because I had a feeling the day he actually touched me, I’d lose all restraint.
“I’ll see you next year, Bone Collector.” I waved over my shoulder, not looking back as tears spilled down my cheeks.
As soon as I’d rounded a curve in the road, I flattened myself against one of the grassy hillsides and let the tears come. I’d taken this too far.
It was supposed to be fun. Meaningless. There was nothing meaningless about this, and I knew it. I didn’t know how it happened. I didn’t know when. Maybe it wasn’t an exact moment I’d fallen for him, but in all the moments. In the challenges, the competition, the way he pushed me to new levels. In the way he understood me. In the way he encouraged me, never held me back. The way he said “little rabbit” like it was a gentle caress.
I liked the bone collector. A laugh bubbled from me while the tears still ran down my cheeks. It was ridiculous. I didn’t know his name, for spirits’ sake.
The laughter died when the next thought came. I was a married woman. This was so far out of bounds. It didn’t matter that my husband didn’t love me. That I didn’t love him. That we’d been matched by the Academy of Ladies, our marriage a simple transaction. That he had countless mistresses.
None of that mattered. Because he had the power in our relationship, and if he found out about this—not me being the white rabbit—but me having feelings for another man, he’d ruin me. His ego wouldn’t survive something like that. My world was supposed to revolve around him. It did revolve around him.
Until the bone collector.
This had to stop. Nothing good would come of this, whateverthiswas. My heart felt like it was being wrenched from my chest. I didn’t know the bone collector. Not really. Even if I was entertaining the idea of leaving my husband for him, who was to say I wouldn’t just be controlled by another man in another relationship? Same problem, different man.
I pawed away the tears. Because one thing was certain: if I ever escaped this marriage, I’d never allow myself to become trapped again.
Chapter Forty-One
MAVERICK
Something was wrong. Other than the fact that Emory had fallen into a lake and almost died. When I’d arrived, she’d just been floating at the bottom of the shallow water, staring at the glassy rocks, eyes wide open, bubbles escaping her mouth. Like she was in a trance.
