Page 19 of Wilds of Wonder
My gaze snapped up at the same time I snapped the box shut. He sounded a little too interested in my find.
He chuckled. “I’m not here to steal from you,” he said. “So what do you say about my proposal? You in? Or am I going to have to find another treasure hunter to play my game?”
“Okay,” I said before I had too much time to think about it, had too much time to ruminate on all the reasons why this was a terrible idea. “We have a deal.”
He stepped forward and stuck out his hand. I hesitantly reached my own hand out and placed it in his. His grip was warm, a tingle spreading through me at the contact.
He gave my hand one firm shake before letting go. “Then let the games begin.”
Chapter Eleven
EMORY
As many times as I’d passed the academy, I’d never been permitted to enter. Only students and teachers had that privilege. Now I sat in Maverick's office in awe of this place. I was here. In the actual Academy of Scholars & Historians. Under the watch of the royal guards. My mood soured. I still had no clue why Maverick wanted to bring us here, why he couldn’t have just questioned us at the castle, but maybe he wanted to be in a familiar place; maybe he wanted to bring my chest of artifacts to the academy directly. I supposed it didn’t matter. He’d given me the gift of time, and I needed to use it.
Maverick stood outside the door, speaking in hushed tones with the guards, while Leoni and Driscoll sat on either side of me, both of them staring at our surroundings.
A large glass desk sat in front of us, everything in its place, neat, organized. Parchment sat in a stack on the corner, next to it, an array of pens for annotating and highlighting. An ink pot sat at the top of the parchment to refill the pens. A magnifying glass lay to the side of the pens, everything else clean, sparkling, immaculate. And there sat my chest. Right in the middle. Glasses perched on the opposite side of thetable, and I imagined Maverick wearing them, sitting here long after the sun had sunk, poring over texts and examining artifacts, just like I did in my secret bunker.
I let out a gasp when I saw what was behind the desk: bookshelves spanning from the floor to the ceiling, shoved with books and texts of all kinds.
I stood from my chair and walked toward the shelves, letting my fingers trail over the book spines in wonder. All this knowledge, right at your fingertips. It was unbelievable. Something I could only dream of.
“Are you supposed to be doing that?” Driscoll asked from his chair.
Leoni slumped further into hers. “She murdered her husband, ran from the crime scene, and assaulted a royal guard. Not to mention she’s stolen priceless artifacts. I don’t think touching a few books is going to make much of a difference at this point.”
I swallowed at all the accusations she’d hurled my way.
“Allegedly murdered,” Driscoll pointed out. Leoni glared at him, and he snapped his mouth closed.
“I just got the position of captain of the guard, and now I’m going to lose it because of you.” She set her gaze on me.
“I didn’t murder my husband,” I said.
Leoni raised a brow. “And all the other accusations?”
I straightened my shoulders. Well, those I couldn’t deny, but I was not going to let her ruin this moment. I spun around and my gaze landed on a book with a blue spine. I’d heard of this one. It contained supposed diary entries from a farmer who’d lived in the Old World, documenting his crops slowly dying as the world around him fell apart. It was one of the few primary sources we had about the actual end of the Old World and demise of its people. And it was just sitting here. For me to read.
My hand hovered in the air. Leoni was right. I was already doomed, so I might as well enjoy my last moments of freedom. I grabbed the book and slid it out.
“You’re reading right now?” Driscoll asked as I slowly opened the journal.
Then disappointment welled up in me when I realized it was in a different language. Othala: the language of the Old World. WhichI didn’t know because only those who attended the academy were taught how to read it.
“What are you doing?” a quiet voice asked.
I spun to see Maverick in the office, door closed behind him. He’d discarded his coat, and it hung on a hook behind him. Now he stood in his grey fitted trousers, his white shirt tucked in, suspenders strapped over his broad shoulders. He rubbed his stubbled jaw, that, along with his muscular chest, made him look rugged. Maverick Von Lucas. I was standing in his office. I was meeting one of the most famous scholars on the continent of Arathia.
He stalked forward, and a breath caught in my throat as he stopped right in front of me, his gaze dipping to my thin nightgown, then trailing slowly to the book clutched in my hand. He reached down, hand brushing mine, then snatched the book from me and shoved it onto the shelf over my head, face now inches from mine.
“Why would someone like you want to read a book like that?” he asked, voice low.
“What, ladies can’t read?” I asked.
His gaze never left mine, and he was so close I could see the copper tone to his brown eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. That book you were holding, that you were flipping through, why did you pick it up?”
I swallowed, remembering that to him, I was just Lord Growley’s wife, and I needed to act more like it if I wanted to get out of here. The last thing I needed was Maverick Von Lucas discovering my secret identity. Then I’d most definitely be doomed.
