Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(78)

The owl screeches and hops along the parapet.

I shake my head. “Don’t come back for me again unless you’re not going to waste my time.”

I steal a glance at the walls of Dovré as I leave the silver owl behind. The glow of chazoure hangs over the city like an eerie mist. Souls are continuing to gather here. Since ferrying night, I haven’t overheard any travelers on the road mention obvious attacks from the dead, but maybe leaching Light from the living is quiet work. I pray it’s long work, too, and no one dies before I find Ailesse and the bone flute. The constant gnaw of guilt inside me sharpens to a bite.

I hurry back to the hollow where I buried the golden jackal and take even more care to be covert. So far no one in my famille has tracked me here, and I want to keep it that way. I’ve been retreating to this place when I force myself to rest and eat.

I kneel beside a trickling stream. The water weaves down moss and rocks and forms a small waterfall. I check my trap, and a silver flash of scales greets me. My stomach pangs with ravenous hunger. Since I claimed the jackal’s graces, I’ve developed an intense craving for meat, which I’m trying to satiate by eating fish. The old Sabine would shudder at that, but now my mouth waters instead.

I sit down and pull out a knife to gut the fish, but not the one I meant to. I quickly sheathe it. Ailesse’s bone knife was made for one purpose only—to kill her amouré. I selfishly used it when I killed the nighthawk and stabbed the Chained man, but I won’t do so again.

I withdraw another knife. Just as I make a slice across the fish’s belly, I hear, “Hello, Sabine.”

I drop the fish. Whip out my knife. Point it across the stream. Spikes of adrenaline shoot through me. Odiva is standing there. My graced ears didn’t even hear her approach.

“You’ve cut yourself.” Her black eyes lower to my hand.

My stinging pain finally registers. A red gash on my palm is pooling blood.

“I will help you clean the wound,” Odiva says with a calmness I don’t trust. My heart drums as she slowly advances across a shallow part of the stream, and the hem of her sapphire-blue dress drags against the rocks in the water.

She joins me on the pebbled ground. I set down my knife with trembling fingers. I pray she won’t notice the new addition on my shoulder necklace among its shells, beads, and graceless shark teeth. But Odiva misses nothing.

“What is that pendant you are wearing?” She affects an indifferent tone, but a ragged edge of suspicion cuts through it.

“My new grace bone,” I confess. She must realize that much.

“It looks like Ailesse’s pendant,” she muses, wetting her bloodred lips as she traces the crescent moon I’ve carved from the golden jackal femur.

“I wanted it to match hers.” And I carved it into a pendant so the bone would be unrecognizable.

“I presume it’s not also from an alpine ibex.” Odiva arches a humored brow, but her eyes bore into me like the eyes of the Chained.

I force a thin smile. Why has she come here? Why isn’t she reprimanding me for running away? “No, I haven’t managed a journey to the northern mountains and back again in the last few days.”

“Of course you haven’t.” She takes my hand and dips it in the water. Her touch is gentle, but her sharp nails scrape against my wrist. “You’ve been wandering through the catacombs instead.”

My eyes fly up to meet her gaze. Cold sweat flashes across my skin.

“Your dress is covered in silt.” She answers my unspoken question.

My muscles tense with the urge to run, but there’s no use in denying where I’ve been. “I had to. I can’t bear to think of Ailesse down there. I’ve looked through so many tunnels and walked past so many bones—human bones.” I swallow and shake my head. “Maybe she isn’t down there. Bastien could have taken her into Dovré or sailed away on a ship with her and left Galle completely.”

Odiva holds my hand under the water. Blood swirls from my wound. “Three grace bones do not make you invincible, Sabine. You need to be careful.”

My defenses flare. Did she hear a word I said? Ailesse is the one she should be worried about.

“You’ve proven to be a good huntress over the past few weeks. The other Leurress should take note. The golden jackal still evades us.”

“No one’s found him?” My voice cracks, but I try my best to sound surprised.

“Not even his shadow.” Odiva’s eyes drift to the bubbling waterfall. “I was so certain Tyrus was ready for me to have him back.”

Back? I open my mouth to ask what she means, but then her eyes refocus and examine mine. Can she see through me to my deceitful heart? Can she smell the jackal’s carcass where I buried him in this very hollow?

“Let us hope we find him before the new moon. I have told you what the Chained will do if they are loose for too long.”

I shiver under her heavy stare. The full moon is in three days, which means the new moon is a little over two weeks away. I have that long to decide if I should ignore the silver owl’s warnings and dig up the jackal to take another femur bone. Odiva would still have time to carve a new flute.

She pulls a slim hunting pack off her shoulder and removes a rolled strip of cloth, an item any good huntress carries in case of wounds. “I have tracked you here for a solemn purpose, Sabine.”