Page 57 of Wilds of Wonder
He stiffened.
“We need to clean this and wrap it in something,” I said quickly.
I grabbed the waterskin peeking out of his satchel, pouring it over his knuckles. “It’s the best we can do right now.” I unwrapped the scarf from my neck and wound it around his hand. At this point, it didn’t really matter that the scarf was priceless, an amazing piece of history. It had been muddied, snowed on, torn. It was a wonder I could even still see the blue color of the fabric.
I tsked, staring at Maverick’s hand. “You really did a number on this one. Let’s hope it doesn’t get infected since we have no access to medicine, not to mention no healers, no herbs, not even a poultice...”
I trailed off when I looked up to see his brown eyes trained on me. He was probably about to scold me for how I’d mistreated this scarf, further desecrated his precious life’s work by not taking better care of it. But I realized he wasn’t looking at my face. His gaze was stuck on my neck. The blood drained from my face as I remembered the reason I wore the scarf: to cover all the mottled bruises inflicted by my husband. They’d faded over the last week, but from the way Maverick was staring, I knew however faint, they must still be there.
He pushed away my hand before I could finish tending to his wound, the scarf hanging down, blood still trickling from his knuckles,but he paid no mind to any of it. He reached out, fingers brushing my skin so delicately, a breath escaped me. I couldn’t move. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never touched me, not like this.
“Who did this to you?” he asked, voice low like a growl.
“My husband.” I stepped back, putting distance between us. “Ex husband,” I clarified.
His brows furrowed, muscles bunching under his white shirt. “Your husband,” he said with deadly calm. “Is that why you murdered him?”
“I didn’t murder him, you ass.” I shot Maverick a scathing look. “He was about to murder me, if you must know, and then he had a heart attack, which is the only reason I’m standing here today. I know you have a low opinion of me, but I didn’t realize your opinion was so low that you think I’d murder my own husband. I thought you knew me better.” I stopped abruptly as tears burned at the back of my eyes, and I stood, retreating until my back pressed against the opposite wall.
It hadn’t hurt when Leoni or Driscoll accused me of the same thing. They didn’t know me. But the bone collector? After our games, our notes, our conversations... I’d expected so much more from him. A fact that I hated.
The tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, and I dashed them away before he could see.
But he didn’t even appear to notice. “That fucking bastard,” Maverick said under his breath. When he glanced up at me, his eyes were full of fire. “Arch Historian Gungar said something about it, and I...” His hands clenched at his sides. “I was so shocked by your real identity. I’d met Lord Growley before. Met you. We’d been in the same room so many times, and I never knew.”
“That was kind of the whole point.” I crossed my arms. “You know, what we agreed to. Also, learning your identity wasn’t exactly easy on me, and I didn’t go straight to thinking ‘murderer.’”
“Fucking bastard.” Maverick still stared at my neck, making me itch to cover it again.
I took a steadying breath. “Sorry to shatter your illusion of him.”
“I’m not,” he said quickly. “Sorry, that is. I’m not sorry about that. I’m definitely not sorry that he’s dead. Not when he did that to you.”
The words took me aback. I didn’t know what to say. Everythingabout this interaction stung, reminded me how little I actually knew of the bone collector. How stupid I’d been to think I’d ever known him at all.
“Is that why you became the white rabbit?” Maverick asked after a beat. “Because you needed an escape from him? Was he always like that?” He gestured to my neck.
I shook my head. “Not in the physical way. He just... wasn’t a very nice man.”
The fire in his eyes blazed once again at those words.
I rubbed my arms. “I became the white rabbit after my mother died.”
His gaze softened. “Ah, I remember you telling me about that.”
“I wanted something for myself in a world where it felt like I had nothing. Where not a single thing, not my body, my heart, my mind, belonged to me.”
Sorrow shone in his eyes. We’d always had a fun, playful relationship where we were on equal footing. I wanted it back. Especially in this moment.
He leaned against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other.
I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I didn’t want to think about Gregory. “Now you know why I became the white rabbit, so what about you? How did Maverick Von Lucas become the bone collector?” I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice, but I failed. “I mean, I don’t really get it. You’re already famous. You already have all the resources and access you could want. So why would you create an entire secret identity to go steal objects that you get to play with for your job? Why would you ever risk that?”
He crossed his muscled arms over his chest. “Maybe that’s what I was missing from my job. Risk. Excitement. Adventure.”
“What does that mean? I’ve heard your stories as Maverick. You’ve been chased by pirates, battled with dragons, swam with seafolk. What more could you ask for?”
He sighed and rubbed his temples.
