The Bone Charmer Page 6

  I frown. “We’re not wealthy.”

  “You’re not spoiled,” he says. “There’s a difference.”

  I make a noncommittal noise. Another topic I’d rather not discuss.

  “What do you have there?” Declan makes a grab for the basket, and I move it out of his reach. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye and lunges toward me, trying to pry it from my fingers.

  “Stop,” I say.

  He doesn’t.

  I yank the basket away and put a hand on his chest. “Declan! Stop it now!”

  He freezes and his face falls. I drop my hand to my side. My breathing is ragged.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I was just playing around. I didn’t mean to be intrusive.”

  My flowers fell on the ground during the scuffle and now they’re scattered at our feet, trampled. We both bend to gather them at the same moment.

  “I overreacted,” I say finally. I’m crouched on the ground next to him, our faces so close that I can feel his breath against my cheek. I tip the basket toward him so he can see inside. “It’s just something from the bone house,” I say. “For my mother.”

  He barely glances at the basket. “I’m just trying to be part of your life,” he says. “But I’m not doing it very well.”

  His crestfallen expression tugs at a tendril of sympathy inside me. I long to confide in him, to let him pull me into his arms like he has done so many times before, and assure me that everything will turn out perfectly for both of us. But I’m afraid telling him the truth would only make things worse. How can I possibly explain the seed of doubt the kenning has planted in my heart? I don’t know what the bones showed about my future. Did my mother match me with Declan in both realities? And if not Declan, then who?

  The naked vulnerability in his eyes thaws what remains of my anger. I touch the back of his hand. “I know. I want to be part of your life, too.”

  He threads his fingers through mine. “Next time you go to the bone house, can I come along?”

  I want to say no. I nearly do. But we’re bone-matched—at some point I’m going to have to stop second-guessing myself, and act like it.

  I take a deep breath. “Yes, of course.”

  He tucks a flower behind my ear. “I can’t wait.”

  Ami and I sit on the bank of the Shard, our feet dangling in the water. It’s the first truly warm day of spring and my last day of freedom before I begin my tutoring duties.

  Since we were children, it’s been our favorite warm-weather tradition—packing a basket full of food and eating it on the grassy riverbank, throwing bits of bread to the ducks, depositing tiny boats made from hastily folded scraps of paper in the river and then placing bets about where they’ll end up.

  The sun on the back of my neck is decadent. It’s nice to get a respite from home, where my mother’s gaze is perpetually fixed on the broken bone, as if she can force it to mend with her will alone.

  “So,” Ami says, raising her eyebrow suggestively. “How are things going with you and Declan?”

  “It’s fine,” I tell her.

  “It’s fine? That’s not very romantic for a match sanctioned by fate.”

  The secret feels like a bubble in my chest on the verge of bursting. But I can’t tell her that I’m not sure if the match was sanctioned by fate or not.

  I twirl one of Ami’s glossy black braids between my fingers and then tuck it behind her ear. “You’re the romantic, not me.”

  She smiles. “My parents couldn’t afford a matchmaking reading and, apparently, whoever my soul mate is, he isn’t rich enough to afford one either. Humor me.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “Sometimes he’s great and then sometimes …” I tell her about him trying to steal the basket from me a few days ago.

  Her mouth twists into a disapproving frown. “You need to have an honest conversation with him, Sas. Do you remember when we were children and his parents asked him to gather wood for the fire? And he thought it would be funny to lie down and play dead next to the ax. When his mother found him, she screamed so loud that the whole town came running. She was ready to kill him—for real—but Declan had actually thought she’d be impressed with his joke. He always tried to make a game out of everything, but sometimes he goes overboard.”

  Ami is right. Declan was always the one challenging friends to impromptu races. Planning practical jokes. Making everyone laugh with his easygoing approach. It’s one of the reasons I’ve always been drawn to him. Because the only risks he ever takes are playful ones. He only likes danger that ends in laughter.

  She drags a toe slowly through the water. “Is it possible you’re finding flaws because you’re scared?”

  My skin prickles. Ami knows me a little too well.

  “Maybe,” I tell her. “But haven’t you ever doubted a reading?”

  She’s quiet for a moment. “What’s gotten into you lately? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Guilt pools inside me. I reach for her hand. I may not be able to tell her everything, but she still feels like a lifeline.

  “I’m just confused,” I say. “Before the kenning, I knew Declan was perfect for me, and now …”

  “And now that you’re matched, you’re avoiding him by spending all your time with me at the bone house.” Her gaze cuts to me. “Not that it stops him from following you there like a lost puppy.” She squeezes my fingers. “But the fact that you’re keeping him at arm’s length can’t make him feel good. Maybe that’s why he took it too far the other day? He was trying to draw you out. Though he still should have stopped once you asked him to. Now that you’re matched, you have to be willing to talk to him when something bothers you. It’s the only way to have a good relationship.”

  Even without knowing the whole truth, Ami’s advice still hits the mark.

  I kick a bit of water onto her calf. “Why do you always make so much sense?”

  She grins at me. “Because I’m brilliant.”

  “But don’t you ever wonder if the bones are wrong?”

  Her answer is soft. “I never had enough access to readings to wonder.”

  My shoulders stiffen. Ami’s parents aren’t poor, but they’re not wealthy, either, and bone readings have always been a rare luxury in her family.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “That was insensitive.”

  She shrugs. “I just don’t think you’d doubt the bones if they hadn’t always been available, you know?”

  Ami’s words rattle around my mind for the rest of the day. When I walked into the Marrow, I wanted to be matched with Declan. I wanted to be a tutor. And now that I have everything I wished for, I’m not happy. What if that’s only because I’m scared? What if I’ve let my mother cast doubt on everything because of the broken bone? If she chose Declan for me, it’s because that was one of my possible paths, so why am I feeling doubts now?

  It’s not Declan’s fault that my mother used extra magic on the bones. It’s not his fault that the bone broke. In my head, I believe it. Now if I could only convince my heart.

  Tutoring is not the fulfilling experience I imagined when I told my mother it was my dream.

  Audra Ingersson paces across the length of the sitting room—it’s one of at least ten inside her enormous mansion. She’s continually building new spaces or tweaking existing ones, and now the rooms flow together without any rhyme or reason—bedrooms off the kitchen, hallways that lead to dead ends, windows between interior rooms.

  “She’s a bit eccentric,” my mother warned me before I left this morning. But nothing could have prepared me for this.

  Audra’s boots click against the hardwood floor as she travels the length of the room. She seems oblivious to the fact that her son, Willem, is climbing up the banister.

  “It’s such a difficult decision,” she says. “I don’t know whether to have you teach grammar before penmanship or penmanship followed by grammar.” She stops walking and runs a palm over the mantel above the fireplace. The white p
aint is chipped in spots, revealing a red color underneath. “Or maybe we could start Will’s day with history?”

  I grip the arms of my chair. It’s upholstered in a silky material far too slippery for furniture, and I fear the moment I relax, I’ll slither to the floor. “I’m not sure the order of the lessons matters very much.”

  Audra turns to me, her mouth an open circle of shock. “Of course it matters. I just forgot to ask the particular order of the lessons at my last reading.”

  The housekeeper glances up from her dusting to shoot me a sympathetic look. Willem slides down the banister and lands with a thump at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to ask your mother?” Audra’s voice is bright, eager.

  “I really don’t—”

  But just then a bell sounds from somewhere on the grounds outside. Audra’s hand flies to her mouth. “Is it that late? Oh no, I really must go. My last reading instructed me to be at the market at precisely noon.” Even though it’s a warm day outside, she grabs a shawl from a hook on the wall and slings it over her shoulders. “I’ll be back soon.” She points a finger in my direction. “Don’t teach Willem anything until we’ve sorted this out.”

  Audra closes the door and I turn to the housekeeper with a helpless look. How am I supposed to keep Willem occupied all morning if I can’t teach him anything? I assumed Audra wanted a private tutor for her son to have the added benefit of one-on-one instruction, but he’d be better off at the village school than lazing around here all day.

  “Nothing to be done,” the housekeeper says. “Audra won’t make any decision until she’s consulted the bones. And I mean not a single decision.”

  “But she hasn’t been to visit my mother in years,” I say. “At least, not that I’m aware of.” I shift in my seat and slide to one corner.

  The housekeeper tosses me a rough blanket. “For traction,” she says with a wink. I tuck the blanket beneath me, and the chair finally stops trying to toss me overboard. “Audra doesn’t get bone readings in Midwood anymore.” The housekeeper glances at Willem to make sure he’s out of earshot, and he is. He’s nearly made it back to the top of the banister. “Your mother stopped putting up with her nonsense years ago. Said it was immoral to consult the bones for every little decision when others couldn’t even afford the kenning. But Audra wants what she wants, so now she travels to towns where Bone Charmers are happy to take her coin”—she raises her eyebrows—“and happy to give her plenty of ways to spend it. Build this, redecorate that, buy new jewels during the new moon for extra protection.”

  I can’t even imagine someone using their gift in such a corrupt way. I think of Audra running off to the marketplace because she thinks her fate relies on being there at a certain time. My mother has told me enough over the years that I know that’s not how bone charming works.

  And where does she even get bones for so many readings?

  Willem flies off the end of the banister and crashes into a table.

  “Maybe it’s time to play a different game,” I tell him. “Your mother isn’t going to be very happy if you break something.”

  He shrugs. “She won’t care if the bones don’t.”

  And how can I argue with that when I know he’s right?

  “Audra Ingersson is horrible,” I tell my mother later that evening.

  We’re sitting over a simple supper of bread and stew, though my mother just pokes at her vegetables with the back of her spoon without taking a bite. She’s staring into the distance. I follow her gaze to the glass container on the shelf.

  “Maybe it’s best if the bone doesn’t heal and I cease to exist,” I say. “That might be preferable to trying to work with that woman.”

  My mother fixes me with a steely glare. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s a little funny,” I say under my breath.

  “Audra isn’t horrible,” my mother says. “She’s misguided. She believes that if she’s careful enough, she can avoid tragedy. But none of us can.”

  “But why is she like that?” I ask. “And how did she get so wealthy, anyway?”

  My mother gives me a disapproving look. “You know I don’t like gossip.”

  “It’s not gossip if it’s true,” I say. She purses her lips, but I cut her off before she can correct me. “Fine, it’s not gossip if it’s not malicious. And I’m not just asking to satisfy my curiosity. If I’m going to have to work with her, it would be nice to know what I’m dealing with.”

  She tilts her head, considering. When her shoulders drop and she sits back in her chair, I know I’ve won the argument.

  “Audra’s grandparents emigrated from Cistonia, where bone magic is uncommon,” my mother says. “And so her family didn’t believe in readings. They didn’t even plan a kenning for her, or any of their other children.” She traces a single finger around the rim of her mug as if lost in thought.

  “So, what changed?” I ask.

  “When Audra was fourteen, her family went on vacation—a week of hiking through the Droimian Mountains. On the first day, Audra fell and twisted her ankle. The local Healer recommended she keep pressure off her foot for the rest of the trip, so Audra stayed behind at the cottage they’d rented. On the last day of their vacation, there was a landslide in the mountains and her entire family was killed. Wiped out in a single tragic accident.”

  I suck in a sharp breath. “That’s terrible.”

  “It was,” my mother says. “Afterward, Audra became obsessed with bone readings. Maybe she thought if her family had sought out a Charmer, their lives would have been spared. She married one wealthy elderly man after another—Mr. Ingersson was only the latest in a long line—and grew her fortune by investing the money they left her. Once Willem was born, she became even more fanatical about consulting the bones.” My mother sighs sadly. “Not that it makes it any easier to cope with her behavior—the bones know I’ve tried—but hopefully knowing her story gives you a bit of compassion.”

  A knock sounds at the door and we exchange a glance. Neither of us wants to get up.

  “It’s unlocked!” my mother shouts.

  Ami walks in, her eyes red and swollen, her cheeks damp. I push my chair away from the table. “What’s wrong?”

  She takes a shuddering breath. “Something terrible has happened,” she says, her voice high and reedy. “Someone robbed the bone house.”

  My mother covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, love,” she says, “I’m so sorry.”

  Ami shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. Fresh tears course down her face. “You don’t understand,” she says, looking back and forth between my mother and me. “The bones that were stolen … Saskia, they belonged to your father.”

  Saskia

  The Bone Charmer

  My training is not going well so far.

  Master Kyra and I sit across from each other at a circular table in one of the tutoring rooms. A handful of small animal bones are scattered on a cloth in front of me. The air is choked with incense.

  “You’re not concentrating,” Master Kyra says. I’m supposed to be doing a reading to divine what’s currently hidden in her left pocket. It seems like a simple task, especially in comparison to what I’ve seen my mother do. But no matter how much I try, the only thing I see when I close my eyes is red-tinged emptiness.

  “Is it a ring?”

  She sighs. “No. Don’t guess. See it in your mind.”

  A bead of sweat slips from the nape of my neck and creeps down my spine. I think of my mother’s face during readings—how it seemed as if she’d left her body behind, but her mind was somewhere wondrous and faraway.

  “You’re working too hard,” Kyra says.

  I open my eyes. “You just said I wasn’t working hard enough.”

  “No, I said you weren’t concentrating. Bone reading requires both total focus and the ability to let go.”

  “Oh, is that all?” I say under my breath.

  Her jaw tightens.
“Try again. Focus and relax.”

  I try to direct my thoughts toward the bones. I stare at them and will them to tell me something, but they just lie there, motionless and mute. My eyes start to water and I let them flutter closed. Maybe if I can at least feign concentration, Master Kyra will take it easy on me. I relax my forehead and shoulders. I take a deep breath, and the smell of the incense seems to grow more pronounced as if Kyra has moved the burner closer. Behind my lids, I see a twitch, a barely perceptible movement, and the shadow of something slowly starts to take shape.

  And then an explosion trembles through the room.

  The image dissipates and my eyes fly open. “What was that?”

  But Master Kyra doesn’t look alarmed, only irritated.

  “Mixers,” she says, dipping her head in the direction of the rooms across the hall. “They nearly bring down the entire training wing at least once a month. You’ll have to learn to ignore them.”

  Thick black smoke curls under the door and Kyra sighs. “Now that is going to be hard to ignore.” She throws open the window and cool air rushes in, bright and sharp. “Let’s take a break,” she says. “Get some food. Try to come back refreshed and ready to work.”

  She doesn’t wait for a response before she opens the door and leaves. The training room fills with smoke that stings my eyes and burns my lungs. I stick my head out the window and take deep, cleansing breaths. Master Kyra’s hacking cough grows more and more faint as she makes her way down the corridor.

  Far below are the rushing waters of the Shard. On this end of the building, it’s one long turquoise river with swells of whitecaps where the water slams into boulders. Ivory Hall—or rather the hill that it’s perched on—is what first divides the river, lessening its power at the same time as it expands its reach.