Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(42)

17


Bastien


ALL I SMELL IS AILESSE. Earth, fields, flowers. Everything green and alive. A twisted trick of her magic. I have to remember what she really is. Darkness. Decay. Death.

My nose brushes her hair. I fight a shudder of prickling heat. I have to hold her this close, or she’ll make a run for it. She’s only tied up by her hands right now. I cut her ankles free so she could walk here with me tonight. We’re standing in a dangerous tunnel of the catacombs—a place I’ll use to my advantage—if I can get my mind off the warm girl in my arms.

“Is it safe?” I ask Marcel, eyeing the wooden plank in front of us. He and I spent the last hour dragging it here from a scaffold in the crumbling limestone mines beneath us. Now it’s stretched across a chasm, fifteen feet wide, where the floor has caved in. This tunnel would look like any other catacombs tunnel without that gaping hole near its dead end.

Marcel steps on the end of the plank and bounces a little, testing it one last time. “I wager yes.” But it’s the floor under the weight of the plank that worries me. I pull Ailesse back a little, steering her clear of the fissures at our feet. Jules hangs back, too, her face pale. As long as only one of us stands on the fragile area at a time, the tunnel should hold.

Marcel strolls back to us. Once he’s past the cracks in the floor, I let go of Ailesse and nudge her toward the plank to cross it. On the other side of the chasm is a six-by-six-foot ledge, all that remains of the tunnel floor before it hits the dead end. “Go on,” I prod her again. She finally moves away, and I inhale a steadying breath of Ailesse-free air.

She walks, light on her toes, to the edge of the chasm, then looks below and goes rigid. I know what she sees—nothing. When Jules and I first found this spot a few months ago, I dared her to come close to the edge. We threw bits of limestone rubble in the pit and tried to hear it hit the bottom. No sound carried up to us, even when we rolled in a large stone.

Ailesse squares her shoulders, exhales slowly, and walks onto the plank. Because her hands are tied, she can’t hold out her arms to stay balanced. She reaches the middle of the plank and wobbles. I tense, fighting the urge to run and help her. She’s lost the agility she had at Castelpont.

When she arrives on the far ledge, her head falls back in relief. My shoulders relax. Why am I so worried about her?

Because if she dies, you die, too, Bastien.

Right. I flex my hands and pull Marcel aside. He smells faintly of black powder. “Is everything ready?” I ask, aware that Ailesse is straining to hear us. We’ve kept the most important part of our plan a secret from her so she can’t warn her mother.

“Yes.” Marcel side-eyes her. “The, um, black trail is set, and the thunder will clap when you’re ready.” I wince with each word he emphasizes. That was about as subtle as a flying brick.

“Go take your post, then.” I give him a bolstering slap on the shoulder. He doesn’t show a scrap of uncertainty, but I know him better than that.

As he swaggers away with an oil lamp, Jules shakes off some of the dried mud from her sleeves. She never had a chance to rinse the limestone silt from her clothes after the supply run earlier. She glances from me to Ailesse and fidgets with the end of her braid.

“Are you going to be all right, being alone with her? Who knows how long we’re going to have to wait for the queen to come.”

I snort. “Of course I will be. Is the pulley rigged?” Marcel and I nabbed one from the scaffolds, along with the plank.

She nods. “And I found a safe hiding spot for myself.”

“Good.” I grab a flaming torch from one of the crude sconces along the tunnel wall, more relics of the quarrymen who once worked down here. Over the last couple years, Jules and I made a ready supply of torches for catacombs exploring. They don’t burn as long as oil lamps, but they’re much brighter. Six more torches are lit on this side of the chasm. They’ll help me see any move the queen makes.

Jules adjusts the quiver of arrows she’s slung across her back. “Bastien?” she says in a timid rasp. For a flicker of a moment, she’s the girl I met six years ago. Desperate, starving, eager to make an ally. She starts to reach for me. “In case this goes wrong tonight, I want you to know—”

“Nothing bad is going to happen, Jules.”

She nods again and glances down at my hand. I realize I’m holding hers, though I didn’t mean anything by it. I swiftly let go. “See you soon.” I make quick work of crossing the plank.

When I join Ailesse on the ledge, she looks at me with thoughtful eyes. Almost sympathetic. I slide my torch in a sconce and glare at her. My best mask is anger. I don’t need her telling me Jules doesn’t pierce my soul again.

“You’re cunning, Bastien.” Ailesse’s voice is smooth and sure. “I acknowledge that. But whatever trap you’ve laid for my mother is certain to fail. She won’t be coming alone either. She’ll bring the most skilled among my famille. Remember, I warned you.”

I smirk. She’s been saying much of the same all day. Empty threats. Vain attempts to intimidate me. It doesn’t rock my confidence. Within the hour, I’ll take the queen’s life and have my vengeance. As for any others she brings, I’ve planned for them, too. I’ll take all their bones so they can never hurt another man again. Then I’ll deal with Ailesse and our soul-bond. The thought makes my stomach wrench.