He tilts his head. “Do tell.”
She taps the cover. “Page two hundred and six.”
Using the same process, the sheet unravels into a scroll, except this one reveals a hidden message that cavorts across the surface, replacing the original content. It’s the second half of the legend that brought Merry and Anger together. It’s the part that Wonder had uncovered.
Malice scans the text. “My, my. Looks like I missed a spot.” He shrugs. “Then again, I was in a hurry. The keepers had just caught me red-handed, so I couldn’t check the whole book.”
“That’s when you got exiled?”
“Another five minutes, and I would have found this.”
“It took me only three minutes.”
His eyes crinkle. “Is that so?”
The afternoon turns into a book-a-thon as they gallivant from corner to corner, leading one another to the points where they’ve stripped mysteries bare. The majority have been taboo accounts, a rare few life changing. Wonder presents a diminutive book camouflaged and tucked within a book, within a book, within a book. It contains a list of forgotten supernovas.
In a rotating case, much like a rotating door, Malice fishes out a chronicle that only relinquishes its secret when treated like a flip book at the right speed. From there, a code can be deciphered about how to cheat at antiquated games.
There’s a list of the stars’ oldest criminals; these extra pages sprout when one plants a seed in the hardback’s crease.
There’s an account of the stars’ lost criminals that can only be read beneath a glass shard, like a makeshift microscope.
There’s manuscript that manifests riddles when doused by rain, another that shares ancient recipes when smeared in ink. “In order to read it, you have to ruin it,” Malice explains.
The contest isn’t hostile today. It’s animated as they find a common ground, exploring the stacks while bonding over locations, stories, and research.
Biographies of infamous deities, psychological analyses about dreams, and riddles are Malice’s guilty pleasure. Travel accounts are Wonder’s default for procrastination.
It becomes a game, and it becomes a fun one. They go so far as to offer each other tips and cautions: what niches to peruse and which ones to disregard.
During a debate about the assets of human libraries, Wonder pauses near a recess and gestures toward an area housing ancient journals, where intricate straps and thongs encase the texts. The closures are so expertly tangled that it would take patience to unbind them. “I’ve always wanted to tackle this section, but I haven’t graduated to it yet,” she jokes. “For the life of me, those straps are so…Malice?”
He gawks at the books, an unhealthy white paste coating his skin. His foot is arrested midstep, and his fist chokes the banister.
Wonder’s gaze jumps between his stricken face and the books wrapped like mummies. “Malice.”
The second her hand meets his elbow, he flinches violently, the floor vibrating beneath them. His chin jerks toward her, his eyes slitting. But to her surprise, something in her expression must tame him, because he shakes himself. “It’s nothing. Drop it.”
He vacates the quarter, compelling her to jog after him. The hours have cycled swiftly, nightfall greeting them when they exit the Chamber. Malice is twitchy, and she wants to probe, but she doesn’t. He’ll only shout or say something foul.
Pewter moon rays soak the dorm foyer. They halt at the landing, two blots in the center of glowing light. She wants to ask, but he’s not ready for that.
Perhaps, neither is she.
“I have a confession,” she whispers, and that gets his attention. “I forgot to keep score.”
His mouth lifts with humor. “Slacker.”
“But we don’t make a bad team.”
“Not too shabby.”
“We could be a force to be reckoned with. But we won’t get anywhere unless…”
Unless they work together, they won’t prevail in either of their goals, neither her peers’ campaign, nor whatever he’s hunting for.
Malice translates her thoughts. “Fuck it. Count me in, but I’m still a better researcher. Get used to it.”
“I think not,” she declares as he walks away. “Malice?”
He stops and swerves his head over his shoulder. “That’s me.”
“In the forest, with that elder. Why did you…?”
Why did he jump in front of Wonder when Harmony took that shot? Why did Malice throw himself into that arrow’s path, and for someone he despises?
Processing the question, he gets cocky. “I just wanted to annoy our visitor.”
She hadn’t told him it was her Guide, which is illogical. But at the time, she’d needed to come to grips with the discovery first. Soon enough, she’ll let him know.
“Thank you…for annoying her,” Wonder concedes.
“I don’t usually hear that,” Malice remarks.
“Your name said without rancor?”
“No,” he responds, “I don’t usually hear, Thank you.”
“Forgive my pretention, but gratitude is earned. It requires doing selfless things for other people. You could try filling that quota more often.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Wonder shakes her head as he disappears into his room. In her own sanctuary, she changes into a camisole and pants that cinch at the ankles, the satin caressing her flesh.
She sinks into the down, replaying the day’s pleasantries. The vision of them exploring the Hollow Chamber flits through her mind, his wisecracks making her chuckle aloud until the evening blurs into nothingness.
And then the world explodes back to life. A piercing cry severs Wonder’s dreamscape, and she lurches from the linen pillows, gasping out of slumber. She knows that mutiny coming from Malice’s room.
It’s the sound of a nightmare.
11
She catapults from the bed, bursts out of her dorm, and sprints toward his lair. Her bare feet slap the floor, cutting through slashes of midnight.
Dammit, he’s barred himself inside. This wouldn’t be a problem if she were dealing with a human latch.
Wrenching on the knob is fruitless, the door’s framework refusing to budge. Wonder tries twice, using enough vigor to rip a mortal barrier from its hinges, but still, the bolt resists her. Other than his moon-dusted key or the Asterra Flora, there’s no way to invade the dorm.
The howls escalate, scraping from his throat. Wonder slams her palms on the façade. “Malice!” she screeches. “Malice, wake up! Wake up!”
Whatever horror he faces, it’s evidently causing his bed frame to rattle. His wails shrivel into whimpers and then grate back into hollers. Wonder’s throat swells as she rams her shoulder against the door, but the craftsmanship is too solid, impervious to the pounding of her weight. She can’t just leave him like this.
Wonder reels back, then dashes to her room to retrieve the quartz archery. Skidding in front of his cursed door, she nocks an arrow. At the right angle, with the right force, hitting the keyhole dead-center, it could work. If her wits have gotten her into this building, they can get her into this forsaken room.
She lets it fly. In a spectrum of light, the knob convulses.