Page 31 of Bone Year

“Before I announce it, let me tell you all what the prize is.” He waggles his eyebrows and holds up four necklaces, the chains glinting in the low light. I squint to see what dangles from each one.

“Each member of the winning team will receive an Ashwell key. This is no ordinary skeleton key. It doesn’t open every door, but it can open any door, or shall I say any lock.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd. I frown, suddenly confused.

“What does that mean?” someone calls out.

Malric smiles in a way that has me on edge. “These four keys are as old as Ashwell Academy itself. They were forged in the very core of this school.” He begins to pace slowly at the far end of the room. “The key will open something different for each of you. Always keep it with you, and it will open something when you need it most. The core current of the school will know. It will decide what that is when the time comes.”

Lux and I exchange a curious look, one of her eyebrows raised.

I can see why this is a coveted prize. The possibilities are endless. I can’t think of any reason I would need a key right now, but that’s the point. You don’t know what lock you need opened until you are standing in front of it I guess.

“As for the winning team,” Malric continues, gesturing to his fellow blood and breath classmates behind him, “we have all reviewed your notes and discussed each team at length. Time and teamwork did come into play, but ultimately only one team positively identified the crawler’s anomaly.”

My heart leaps into my throat.

I know I was right about that heart, but there could have been many more anomalies. Things we didn’t catch and didn’t know enough to look for.

“Draven, Miles, Maelis, and Nyra, come collect your Ashwell keys.”

I think I’m in shock. My feet don’t move until Lux shoves me forward with a breathless laugh, and I stumble after my teammates toward the front of the room.

Malric gives me another wicked smile as he places the key in my palm. Then he winks at me.

Gross.

I look down at the key, ignoring the crawl of discomfort his attention leaves on my skin. It is threaded through a long silver chain, and the head of it is an oblong circle bisected by a single vertical line. The metal is cold, heavier than it looks, and hums faintly against my palm. Or maybe I’m imagining that.

I slip the chain over my neck and tuck the key beneath my dress as the crowd begins to disperse. It’s late, and most people are either heading out to get some sleep before classes or drifting toward the drink cart for more alcohol and bad decisions.

I don’t look for Lux. She’ll be fine on her own.

Instead, I slip out of the building and weave through the thinning crowd, scanning faces and silhouettes until I spot him. Jace’s height and silvery white wings make him stand out even in the dark among the crowd of students.

“Jace, wait.”

He turns at the sound of my voice, his wings folded against his back as I catch up to him. The moonlight highlights the planes of his face, and I notice he looks as drained as I feel. There’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there earlier.

“There you are,” he says, relieved. “I was looking for you. I thought maybe you got ahead of me outside.” He falls into step beside me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe your team won. Are you excited?”

I glance around at the other students still milling about, their voices carrying through the cold night air as they make their way back to the dorms. “Can we go somewhere quieter to talk?”

He nods, placing a hand on the small of my back and guiding me away from the others.

We walk until the noise fades behind us, following an icy stone path that winds between buildings until we reach a low wall overlooking the grounds outside the bone year male dormitories. The cold has seeped through my dress and settled into my bones.

“Do you want to come to my room? Aren’t you freezing?” His breath leaves puffs of condensation in the frigid air.

“No, I’m okay for a few minutes,” I say, hugging myself tighter. My long-sleeve dress does little to keep me warm, but I don’t want to be in his room right now. This conversation can’t turn into something else.

“Here, this way.” He leads me through a back door on the ground floor of the dormitory and into a small room stuffed with linens and miscellaneous things you might find in a bedroom. Stacked furniture and piles of spare blankets that smell of dust and cedar.

“This is the supply room,” he says, and I raise an eyebrow.

“What?” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “I was exploring earlier. Don’t give me that look.”

He walks around a few stacked desks to a tall table and pats the surface for me to sit. I have to jump up to get on it, but once I’m settled he grabs one of the folded blankets and drapes it over my shoulders. The wool is scratchy but warm. He moves to stand in front of me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.