Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(119)

The soldiers advance. Casimir lowers his dagger down my neck. He’s going to cut the leather cord of my necklace. With nighthawk speed and jackal strength, I grab his wrist and slam the hilt of my knife into his upper arm. His dagger fumbles from his grip. Before it clatters to the stones, I drive my knee into his gut. He buckles forward. I shove him to the ground and jab my elbow in his back. I grab his fallen dagger. The first soldier swings low for me. I jump over his blade and spring off Casimir’s body. I bolt away before the second soldier can attack.

Casimir shouts my name. He’s back on his feet and chasing after me. His soldiers follow. I run toward the long hallway past Bastien’s hiding place.

He shoots me a livid glance. “What the hell are you doing?” he hisses.

“Tell Ailesse I know the siren song. I can open the Gates.”

I spin around and fling Casimir’s dagger, but purposely throw off my aim. It sails above his head and clangs against a stone column. While he’s distracted, I toss the bone knife into a potted tree opposite Bastien’s. “Tell Ailesse to finish him,” I say. His eyes narrow, and he gives me a determined nod.

I run past the arched passageway that leads to the courtyard. I can’t leave the castle through the dry well. I’d endanger Jules and Marcel and expose Bastien’s safe exit.

Casimir shouts for more soldiers. Boots pound closer down an adjacent stairwell and branching corridor.

A large man emerges and grabs for me. I narrowly dodge him and keep sprinting. I focus on a stained glass window thirty yards ahead. The late afternoon sunlight beats in through the colored panes and lights up a majestic image of Belin, the sun god, riding his white stallion through the sky.

I cast off my servant’s cap and apron and pick up speed. I yank the ties at my shoulders loose that hold up my heavy hemp-spun dress. It falls to my ankles, and I kick it aside. I can’t have it dragging me down. All I’m wearing now is a light chemise.

“Stop!” Casimir calls after me.

The stained glass window is five yards away. I grit my teeth and leap off the ground. My nighthawk grace heightens the jump. I cast up my arms to protect my face.

My body hits the glass. The window shatters in a rainbow of shards.

Sixty feet below me, the Mirvois River rushes by.

I tumble toward the whitecap currents.