Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(2)

Ailesse’s lower lip juts in a humorous pout. “I’m sorry.” She places a supportive hand on my back, and I relax onto my heels. The thirty-foot distance to the ground doesn’t seem so vast anymore. “All I can think about is what it will feel like to have a shark’s sixth sense. With its grace bone, I’ll be able to—”

“—discern when someone is nearby, which will make you the best Ferrier the Leurress have seen in a century,” I drone. She’s talked of little else all morning.

She grins and her shoulders shake with merriment. “Come, I’ll help you up. We’re almost there.” She doesn’t give me her crescent pendant. It wouldn’t do any good. The grace can only belong to the huntress who imbued it with the animal’s power. Otherwise, Ailesse would have given me all her bones. She knows I loathe killing.

The journey to the top is easier with her at my side. She guides my feet and takes my hand when I need a little lift. She prattles on about every fact she’s gleaned about sharks: their enhanced sense of smell, their superior vision in low light, their soft skeletons made of cartilage—Ailesse plans to select a hard tooth for her grace bone, since it won’t decay over her lifetime. The defining mineral in real bone is also abundant in teeth, so the shark’s graces will imbue it in the same way.

We finally reach the summit, and my legs tremble while my muscles unwind. Ailesse doesn’t pause to rest. She races to the opposite side, plants her feet at the extreme edge of the drop-off to the sea, and squeals in delight. The breeze ripples across her short, snug dress. Its single strap complements her shoulder necklace, which wraps in strands from her neck to below her right arm. The dress is the perfect length for swimming. Before we set off this morning, Ailesse removed the longer white skirt she usually wears on top.

She spreads her arms wide and stretches her fingers. “What did I tell you?” she calls back to me. “A perfect day! There’s scarcely a wave down there.”

I join her, though not as close to the edge, and peer downward. Forty-five feet below, the lagoon is encircled by limestone cliffs such as this one. The wind can only skip across the skin of the water. “And a shark?”

“Just give me a moment. I’ve seen reef breeds here before.” Her burnt umber eyes sharpen to see what I can’t, deep beneath the water. Ailesse’s second grace bone, from a peregrine falcon, gives her keen vision.

The salt spray tingles my nose as I warily lean forward. A heady breeze tips my balance, and I scuffle back again. Ailesse holds steady, her body still as stone. I know that predatory, patient set of her jaw. She will wait like this—sometimes for hours—for what she wants. She was born to hunt. Her mother, Odiva, matrone of our famille, is our greatest huntress. Perhaps Ailesse’s father was a skilled soldier or a captain. Mine was probably a gardener or an apothecary, someone who healed or helped things grow. Paltry skills for a Leurress.

I shouldn’t wonder about our fathers. We’ll never know them. Odiva discourages our famille from speaking about dead amourés, the select men who perfectly complement our souls. We novices will have to make our own sacrifices one day, and it will be easier if we don’t grow attached to those destined to die.

“There!” Ailesse points to a darker spot of water, close to the cliff wall below us. I don’t see anything.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, flexing her hands in anticipation. “A tiger shark—a king predator! How fortunate is that? I was worried you’d have to dive in after me and scare away the other reef sharks attracted to the blood.” I swallow hard, imagining myself as bait. Gratefully, no creature will come near a tiger shark. Except Ailesse. She heaves a sigh of admiration. “Oh, Sabine, she’s beautiful—and large, even taller than a man.”

“She?” Ailesse may have far-reaching vision, but she can’t see through the shark to its underside.

“Only a female could be that magnificent.”

I scoff. “Says someone who has yet to meet her amouré.”

She smirks, ever amused by my cynicism. “If I get this bone, I’ll have all three and get to meet him on the next full moon.”

My smile wavers. Every Leurress must choose and obtain three grace bones in order to become a Ferrier. But that’s not the only requirement. It’s the thought of the final achievement that renders me silent. Ailesse speaks so casually about her rite of passage and the person she’ll have to kill—a human, not a creature who can’t scream when its life has ended. But her tolerance is natural; I’m the anomaly. I must accept, like the other Leurress do without flinching, that what we do is necessary, a price demanded by the gods for the safety of this world.

Ailesse rubs her palms on her dress. “I have to hurry. The shark is turning back for the mouth of the lagoon. I’ll never catch her if I have to fight against the current.” She points to a small, sandy beach below. “Meet me down there, all right? I’ll drag her to the shore when I’m finished.”

“Wait!” I catch her arm. “What will happen if you fail?” I sound like her mother, but it must be said. This is my friend’s life. This risk is different from those Ailesse has taken before. Maybe graces from a shark aren’t worth the danger. She could still choose a bone from another animal.

Her expression falls. I usually support her in everything. “I can take a shark. Most are docile unless threatened.”