Page 26 of Bone Year

“Bone years,” he declares, “your assessment starts now.”

Chapter Eight

“Keys forged within Ashwell do not open doors by design. They respond to necessity, danger, and intent when no other passage exists.”

— Restricted Artifacts Registry

“I can’t believe my father never told me about this,” Lux mutters beside me, folding her arms across her chest. “After all these years, he had to know.”

Across the room, clusters of blood and breath years lean together, voices low as they talk amongst each other. Whatever this is, they’ve been waiting for it.

Malric clears his throat and steps forward, drawing attention back to himself. “My fellow upper classmates are going to start breaking you into teams of four.”

Lux and I instinctively edge closer, shoulders brushing, neither of us saying it out loud but both hoping the same thing. I scan the room and catch sight of Jace near the far wall, his wings half folded, his attention fixed on Malric. I consider slipping away to reach him then think better of it.

A sharp tap lands on my shoulder.

“You,” a woman says, already turning away, “follow me.”

I offer Lux a helpless look before stepping away and into the stream of moving bodies. We’re lined up quickly and pushed around until I find myself standing in a group of four. My stomach drops when I realize who’s beside me, Draven and the violet-eyed girl from earlier. Our fourth teammate I haven’t seen until now, a short and stocky guy with black glasses and slicked-back hair.

Malric announces, “The doors you passed in the hallway outside lead to the morgue’s examination rooms. Each team has been assigned a body. Tonight, every one of you will perform an autopsy.”

I swallow, forcing my breathing to stay even as my thoughts spiral. Fuck. I wish desperately that Jace were standing at my side instead.

“We know not all of you have previous medical experience,” he continues, pacing slowly along the edge of the room, “which is why we’ve so generously provided a step-by-step instruction manual and checklist to guide you through the autopsy.”

A scoff comes from a few bodies over. “What’s the point?” a man calls out. “What’s in it for us? Not everybody’s even here, and you can’t stop me from leaving.”

Malric’s smile sharpens, pleased by the question. “The winning team receives a prize. And trust me when I say it’s something you’ll want.”

My eyes roll. Whatever he’s promising sounds like bait, nothing more than hazing dressed up as opportunity.

“Bone years who didn’t bother showing up tonight,” Malric adds, “will be regretting that decision by morning.”

Sure, if there even is a prize.

“How will the winning team be chosen?” a girl asks from somewhere behind me.

“All teams will be timed,” he replies, “but speed alone won’t decide the outcome. There is a grading criterion. Several factors will be considered, including how well you work as a team, whether you correctly identify the cause of death, your overall time, and which anomalies you accurately document.”

A seedy smile spreads across his face. “Off to your exam rooms,” he says, waving a dismissive hand, “boners.”

We file out of the room in clusters of four, and our supervisor leads us down a narrow corridor to one of the exam rooms. The body is already laid out on the table when we step inside.

“Time starts now.”

The woman assigned to supervise us reaches over and taps the timing device, and red numbers begin counting upward.

We all burst into action at once. Putting on gloves, gowns, and masks.

“Nyra, get the scale. Miles, uncover the body. Maelis, read the chart and take notes,” Draven says, calm and commanding, as though he has done this many times before.

I can see he thinks he is going to be team leader already. The way he stands, shoulders back, chin lifted slightly, radiates authority he hasn’t earned yet.

Fine, I will play along. For now.

“What the fuck?”