Page 74 of Wilds of Wonder
My smile faded as I thought about that day we’d been trapped together in the fire court. Of the dreams she’d shared. “Did you mean it? When you told me that you dreamt of opening a museum one day with all your artifacts? Of offering classes free to the public? Using all that knowledge you gained for others?”
“Yes, I did.” She leaned over and gave me a far too chaste kiss. “There’s so many out there like me who aren’t reaching their full potential because they don’t have the means or the power to do what they want. I met so many women at that academy with dreams they’d never realize, even though there was so much talent. Women would be ruling this continent if so many of them weren’t stuck. It’s not just women, though. There are men, too, who don’t have the money to attend an academy, so they follow in their father’s footsteps, take over the family farm or the blacksmith business. If that’s what they want, then wonderful. But everyone should at least get that chance, you know?”
I stared up at the dusky sky, watching the ribbons of green twist and thread together. “I do know.”
This woman was brilliant. She was going to change lives. Of that I was sure. We just needed to get out of this place so she’d have a chance.
“My sister could’ve used an advocate like you,” I said. “So could I, if I’m being honest.”
Emory moved her finger from my chest to my arm, trailing up and down in soothing motions, waiting for me to continue.
“It’s my fault she’s here. My sister.”
Emory’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed. “When Annalee was younger, maybe around ten, she started talking about a place where the sun didn’t shine. Where lakes could show you your future. Where trees were watching you. Where you could whisper commands to the wind. Where plants would eat you unless you knew the right song to sing to lull them to sleep.”
Emory stiffened, her finger pausing on my bicep. “That sounds familiar.”
I nodded. “She told stories of this place. Talked about it constantly. I didn’t realize it was the Deadlands she was talking about at first. We entertained her stories for a while, when we thought they were just stories.”
“We?” Emory asked.
“My father, mother, and I. My father didn’t like Annalee’s fanciful tales, actually forbid Annalee from talking about them. He wanted to send her to the Academy of Ladies, make an honest woman out of her, in his own words. My mother and I protested. We told him that kind of place would stifle her, that marrying her off to a man would kill her spirit. He wouldn’t listen. He was steadfast in his plan. Meanwhile, Annalee’s stories got wilder, more specific. She talked of people who had scales, fur, fangs. Of elementals who had turned into creatures.”
“Maverick,” Emory said, concern in her voice.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I know. Now that I’m here, I know. She saw it all. Somehow.” My jaw locked. “But I realized it too late.”
“What happened?” Emory squeezed my arm reassuringly.
“She was growing increasingly agitated as the years went on. Openly defiant when my father told her to stop talking about this place. The Wilds, she called it.”
Emory’s mouth dropped open.
“She admitted to me privately that it was the Deadlands, that this place was full of trapped creatures, of the most wondrous sights, and I?—”
I stopped, the memory filling me with guilt.
“I told her it wasn’t real. That maybe it was time to grow up andthink about what she wanted to do with her life.” My throat grew thick with the admission. “I thought I was helping her at the time. That if she’d just stop my father wouldn’t send her to the Academy of Ladies. But she didn’t see it like that. She looked at me like I’d gutted her. After that, she retreated completely. Stayed in her room, refused to come out. I’d been offered a job at the Academy of Scholars & Historians by that point. And I left her. I left her, knowing what kind of man my father was. Knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to send her away.”
“So he sent her to the Academy of Ladies?” Emory asked.
“According to my mother, she didn’t even react on the day she left. It was like she was already broken.” My voice shook, betraying my emotion. “I visited her a few times, and she was never like her normal self. Didn’t talk about the Wilds at all. I begged my father to let her leave. Told him she could stay with me. But he refused. Said this was what she needed.”
“Maverick, you can’t blame yourself.” Emory’s pale eyes pierced me. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have possibly known what she was saying was real. You were trying to protect her.”
“Yet I did the opposite. I didn’t believe in her.”
Just like I hadn’t believed in Emory. I wondered in what ways I’d damaged her mind, her heart, by telling her she was a murderer, by treating her like one. I’d known her for six years, and all it had taken was Gungar, whom I didn’t even like, to tell me some rumor, and I’d believed him. I’d thought the worst of Emory, just like I’d thought the worst of my sister.
“How do you know she’s here?” Emory asked, breaking me free of my thoughts.
“She left me a note. And I knew immediately what it meant. But before I could go after her, I had to prepare. I needed something strong, powerful, to ensure my survival and hers, to ensure we got out of the Deadlands alive. That’s why I took that bolt. And I’m sorry. When you said you were looking for it, I wanted to tell you everything. But?—”
“But I ran away,” Emory said.
“Yes,” I confirmed. “So I went after it and hoped you’d forgive me.”
