Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(6)

Sabine sneaks a wry glance at me. We were really gone so long because I kept changing my mind. I needed an awe-inspiring grace bone to complete my set of three and rival my mother’s five—which only a matrone is allowed.

Isla wrinkles her nose at Sabine’s sack of raw meat. The stink is terrible. After I greet my mother, I’ll wash the scent out of Sabine’s dress. That’s the least I can do. She insisted on carrying the meat because of my wounded hand, but I know she won’t eat it with the rest of us.

“Another long trek with Ailesse and no new grace bones?” Isla’s eyes drop to Sabine’s salamander skull.

My teeth grind together. “Do you wish you could have come in her place, Isla?” I turn to Sabine. “Tell her how much you enjoyed wrestling a tiger shark.” My raised voice echoes through the courtyard and turns heads.

Sabine lifts her chin. “I’ve never had a more pleasurable swim in the sea.”

I hold back a snort and link arms with her. We leave behind a speechless Isla as the women of our famille flock to us in a flurry of gasps, congratulations, and embraces.

Hyacinthe, the oldest Leurress, takes my face in her aged hands. Her milky eyes twinkle. “You have your mother’s fierceness.”

“I will be the judge of that.” Odiva’s silky voice ripples with authority, and I temper my smile. The women clear a path for the matrone, but when Sabine moves to do so, I touch her arm and she stays with me. She knows I’m stronger with her by my side. “Mother,” I say, and bow my head.

Odiva glides forward, her huntress feet silent on the stone floor. Dust motes sparkle about her sapphire dress like stars in the sky. What’s more breathtaking are her grace bones. The bone pendant of an albino bear, carved in the shape of a claw, dangles among the bear’s real claws on her three-tier necklace, along with the tooth band of a whiptail stingray. Talons and feathers from an eagle owl form epaulettes on her shoulders. One of the talons is also carved from bone, like the bear claw pendant. And then there’s my mother’s crown, crafted from the vertebrae of an asp viper and the skull of a giant noctule bat. The bones are offset by her raven hair and chalk-white skin.

I hold my posture to perfection while her black eyes drop to my necklace. She slips a finger under the largest tooth. “What graces did you gain from a tiger shark that were worth endangering yourself to such a degree?” She speaks in a casual manner, but her red lips tighten with disapproval. Her famille—the only famille in this region of Galle—has dwindled over the years to forty-seven women and girls. While we seek the best graces, the hunt to obtain them shouldn’t compromise our lives.

We had numbers to spare until fifteen years ago, when the great plague struck the land. The fight to ferry its countless victims killed half of those who died among us; the rest perished from the disease. Ever since then, we’ve struggled to manage the population of South Galle. But despite our size, we’re still the founding famille, chosen of the gods. The other Leurress throughout the world can’t ferry their dead without us. Our power is linked.

“A greater sense of smell, good vision in the dark, and a sixth sense to detect when someone is nearby, even without looking,” I say, reciting the answer I’ve prepared.

I’m about to add swimming, hunting, and ferocity, when my mother replies, “I possess the same from a stingray.”

“Except for vision in the dark.” I can’t help but correct her.

“Unnecessary. You have the wing bone of a peregrine falcon. That’s all the enhanced vision you need.”

Some of the Leurress whisper in agreement. Each Ferrier among them wears a bone from an animal—mostly fowl—that gives her the eyesight to see an additional color. The color of the dead.

I cross my arms and uncross them, fighting a flare of defensiveness. “But the shark was strong, Mother. You can’t imagine how strong. She even took us by surprise.” Surely Odiva can’t argue the fact that I needed to add more muscle to my graces. Now I have it—with an extra measure of fierceness and confidence, as well. But she’s only caught on one word.

“Us?”

I briefly lower my eyes. “Sabine . . . helped.” My friend stiffens beside me. Sabine hates drawing attention to herself, and now all the Leurress are staring at her, my mother’s gaze the heaviest.

When Odiva looks back at me, her expression is as smooth as the waters of the lagoon. But something fiercer than a shark churns beneath. I’m the one she’s angry with, not Sabine. She’s never angry with Sabine.

The Leurress grow quiet. The distant sounds of the sea funnel through the cavern like we’re caught in a giant shell. My heart pounds in time with the crashing waves. Receiving the assistance of another Leurress during a ritual hunt isn’t strictly forbidden, but it’s frowned upon. No one cared a moment ago—the incredible kill overshadowed that fact—but my mother’s silence makes them all reconsider. I hold back a sigh. What will it take to impress her?

“Ailesse didn’t ask for my help.” Sabine’s voice is small but steady. She sets down her sack of shark meat and clasps her hands together. “I worried she might run out of air. Out of fear for her life, I dived in after her.”

Odiva’s head tilts. “And did you find that my daughter’s life was truly in danger?”

Sabine chooses her next words carefully. “No more than your own life was threatened, Matrone, when you confronted a bear with only a knife and one grace.” No cynicism drips from her tone, only gentle but powerful truth. Odiva was my age when she took on the bear, no doubt to prove herself to her own mother, the grandmother I scarcely remember.