Chapter Four
The rest of the day is a whirlwind. Norah takes me on a tour of Ivory Hall—from the grounds of rolling hills and colorful autumn trees, down to the brightly lit workshop in the basement, and finally to the training wing, where she announces that my first session with Master Kyra will be tonight. I had hoped for more time to settle in—one day, at least—but Norah remains insistent.
“You’re months behind the others,” she says. “I’m afraid you’ll need many extra hours of practice to catch up before the bone games.”
I start to ask what she means by bone games, but she’s already walking away.
Now I stifle a yawn as I sit at a circular table opposite Master Kyra. Several small animal bones are scattered on a cloth in front of me.
“I’m holding a small object in my left palm,” Kyra says. “I’d like you to attempt to divine what it is.”
She lights a bundle of incense, and the smoke curls around us in lazy circles. When the sharp scent of sage hits my nose, memories of my mother rise in my mind—her sitting in front of a stone basin performing readings for the townsfolk, the soothing certainty in the cadence of her voice, the delicate beauty of her hands wielding small needles and pieces of flint. My throat aches. I squeeze my eyes closed.
“Saskia?” Master Kyra’s voice is tinged with worry. “Is something wrong?”
I shake my head. My grief feels too raw to share. Too personal. “I’m fine.”
She frowns. “Are you sure?”
I touch a single finger to one of the bones, anxious to end the conversation. “You’re holding a coin,” I tell her. “A silver one.”
Her sharp intake of breath closes a fist of fear around my throat. Too late, I realize that she expected the task to be far more difficult. My heart hammers beneath my rib cage. The mastery tattoo hidden under my sleeve suddenly feels as if it’s on fire.
Master Kyra opens her palm to reveal a small silver coin. “Are you sure you’ve never attempted a reading before?” Her tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of suspicion beneath her words that makes me feel as if I’m on trial. I try to remember how long it took on my other path to gain a level of skill for these kinds of simple tasks, but the reading of Gran’s healed bone wasn’t clear enough to give me every detail.
“Maybe it’s beginner’s luck?” My voice comes out strained.
Kyra frowns. “Unlikely. In my experience, luck and magic don’t usually join hands.”
I feel like a rabbit caught in the sudden bright beam of a hunter’s lantern. Trapped. Exposed. I need to say something to erase the wariness from her expression.
“My gran always said she thought I would have an aptitude for charming,” I say. And then after a pause: “Before she died.”
Kyra’s eyes fill with sympathy. Her fingertip trails along the edge of the velvet cloth as if she might find an explanation in the bones themselves.
Finally her gaze meets mine and she smiles. “It seems your gran was right. You must be exceptionally gifted. Perhaps it won’t take you as long to catch up as we feared.”
Despite all my worry, the statement gives me a little stab of satisfaction. The more talent and training I have, the better my chances of finding Latham and getting my mother’s bones back. And then I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.
“Shall we try something more challenging?”
“Sure.”
She taps her bottom lip with her index finger and stares off into the distance. “Can you divine the weather …” My heart does a little leap because weather is easy. But then Kyra continues: “In Midwood?”
Until Master Kyra lit the incense, I had actually managed not to think about my mother for a few hours. But the moment she entered my mind again, it was like ripping open a barely healed wound. Focusing on home right now would be unbearable.
I swallow. “Does it have to be Midwood?”
Kyra’s head tilts to one side. “Anywhere else would be impossible for you to see.” My expression must reveal my confusion, because she explains further. “Our homes leave an indelible imprint in our memories. Your connection to Midwood will make it far less challenging than trying to read something in a town or village you’re unfamiliar with. Even so, with such limited training, you’re unlikely to be able to reach that far.” She smiles gently. “Despite being gifted.”
It’s as if she’s presented me with two poisoned goblets and asked me to choose. If I pretend to fail, Kyra will go back to easier tasks and I’ll lose an opportunity to stretch my abilities. But if I succeed, she’ll suspect that I’ve trained before. Starting an apprenticeship in the middle of the year is already unusual, and the last thing I need is to draw even more attention to myself. Under the table, I curl my fingers into my palms. Either choice is a risk, but only one of them will get me closer to my goal.
And I’m still shaken by the worry that my recurring nightmare was actually a bone reading. But even if it wasn’t, I still know the truth: One way or another, Latham is going to kill me. If I have any chance of changing my fate—of besting him and making him suffer—I need to learn as much as I can as quickly as possible.
I cover the bones with my palms and close my eyes. A tug low in my stomach pulls me into a vision and I’m suddenly in my house in Midwood. I had intended only to see the town square. To get a quick look at the sky. Instead I’m standing next to my mother’s favorite rocking chair, staring out the window. Rain patters softly against the glass. It’s the kind of day when we would have a fire burning in the hearth. A pot of stew bubbling on the stove. But the house is cold. Empty. A body without a soul.
I will never be able to escape this sorrow. It will follow me everywhere. Haunt my nightmares and darken my days.
I yank my hands away from the bones. “It’s raining,” I tell Kyra without meeting her eyes, “and chilly.”
“Well done,” Master Kyra says softly. Her voice has a quality that draws my gaze upward. She looks unsettled, and her hands tremble as she gathers the bones and deposits them into a small bag. “I can see why Latham—” She suddenly stops talking and presses the back of her hand to her mouth as if the words escaped without her permission.
“Why he wants me dead?”
She sighs, her eyes full of regret. “Why he thinks your bones would be especially powerful.” She touches my shoulder gently. “But please don’t worry. We’re close to finding him, and he can’t hurt you. Not here.”
I think of Rasmus ready to accompany me if I leave the grounds. Of Norah’s promise to keep me safe. Of the earnest expression on Master Kyra’s face. And for the first time since Latham killed my mother, a tiny seed of hope sprouts in my heart.
Maybe I don’t have to do this alone.
Maybe I really will be safe here.
Both Bram and Tessa are waiting for me when I leave the training wing.
“Our new room is ready,” Tessa says brightly, threading her arm through mine. “And Bram wants to see if it’s better than his. Right, Bram?”
Bram gives a half smile that suggests he said no such thing.
The path to the girls’ dormitory—just as everything else in Ivory Hall—looks vaguely familiar. Like something out of a dream. Candelabras made from deer antlers are spaced at regular intervals and bathe the white walls in a gentle light. The flames flicker as we pass, but bone magic keeps them from snuffing out. Beneath our feet is a plush rug with swirling patterns of green and gold, and I know the exact spot where it’s grown threadbare—a detail plucked from my memory, even though I can’t locate the source.