Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(89)

His shoulders fall. “Of course.” He gives my arm an affectionate squeeze. “I wish you the best, too, Ailesse.” With a heavy sigh, he looks down at the flute. I know he’ll miss its mysteries. “Oh.” His expression brightens. “I forgot to tell you. You know that bridge I mentioned—the one in the caves beneath the mines?”

I nod, curious.

He turns the bone flute over and points to the symbol of a bridge over earth. “This was engraved on it.”





40


Sabine


THE FULL MOON SHINES DOWN into the courtyard under Chateau Creux. Ten or so women are still awake and conversing in the corners of the open cavern. They whisper about the Chained stealing Light and growing stronger. They debate about what can be done before the next new moon.

Maurille smiles as I rush by her. “Good evening, Sabine.” Other women notice me, too. I’ve come home twice to satisfy Odiva after she spoke with me in the hollow. Most of the Leurress bow their heads, acknowledging me as the matrone’s heir. Some frown and cross their arms. Isla, Ailesse’s rival since childhood, gives me a look that could freeze the entire Nivous Sea.

I give her a cold stare of my own. Do you think I want this? I want to say. If Isla is jealous, she should have tried harder to be kind. I was chosen because I’m Ailesse’s best friend, the closest link to her. At least that’s what Odiva told everyone.

I hurry into the tunnel that leads to the ruins of the castle’s west tower. Odiva’s bedchamber is the only room within it. I race up the winding stairs, pull the bone flute from my pocket, and rehearse what I’m going to say.

I’m sorry, Matrone. I thought you’d be pleased I made the flute. I wanted it to be a special gift for you. You’re my mother.

I hope my words will calm her anger. Odiva was supposed to be the one to kill the golden jackal, and I directly lied to her about my newest grace bone. She’ll piece together soon enough that it never came from a black wolf.

My footsteps slow as I near her room at the top of the crumbling tower. Murmurs rise on the air and resonate from within, like Odiva is praying. I shouldn’t disturb her. I’m being bold even coming to her room. I barely know my mother. She distances herself from our famille, and she isn’t involved in our everyday tasks. She only speaks to us out of necessity. Truthfully, I’m not sure how much I want to know her. My whole life is a lie, thanks to the choices she’s made. Despite that, I can’t help creeping closer to the door. What is Odiva like when she’s alone? Maybe the unguarded version of herself is one I can learn to love.

The door isn’t shut all the way. I can see about a foot-wide space around the center of the room, and a little more to the left and right if I angle my position.

The matrone is kneeling in the middle of the floor. She looks so small and vulnerable—she’s removed all her grace bones.

They’re laid around her in a circle: the claw-shaped pendant of an albino bear, as well as the talon-shaped pendant of an eagle owl; the tooth band of a whiptail stingray; the vertebrae of an asp viper; and the skull of a giant noctule bat. She spoke truthfully about her crow skull not being a grace bone, because it isn’t set out with the others; it’s still hanging around her neck.

Odiva’s eyes are closed, her arms outstretched, and her cupped palms turned downward—the strange way I saw her praying on the night of Ailesse’s failed rite of passage.

I study her straight and silky raven hair, her chalk-white skin, and vivid red lips. I look nothing like her. How can she be my mother?

But then, with my keen vision, I take a harder look. The slope between her neck and shoulders has the same curve as mine. Her eyes are black, not brown, but the shape is similar. Above all, her smooth hands are my hands, her long fingers my fingers. Even the way her smallest finger angles away from the others is a mirror of mine.

She opens her eyes. I startle and pull away from the door. Once my heart stops pounding, I tiptoe forward and peer inside again. There’s a bowl within the circle now. And a bone knife. This isn’t a prayer. It’s a ritual. And bone weapons are only used for sacrifices.

What does Odiva mean to sacrifice?

She picks up the knife, and I wince, watching her cut a line across her palm. I shouldn’t cringe. This is a standard part of sacrificial rituals. I had to cut myself with the bones of the animals I killed, as well. If Ailesse had completed her rite of passage, she would have cut her own palm with her bone knife, wet with Bastien’s blood.

Odiva reaches into the bowl. She doesn’t retrieve an animal bone or any blood; instead, she pulls out a lock of auburn hair, tied together with a white string. I cover my mouth to hold back a gasp. Ailesse is the only Leurress in our famille with hair that color.

Odiva drips her blood over Ailesse’s hair.

A sick rush of dread fills my stomach. What is she doing? This could be a ceremony to honor my sister’s life—maybe Odiva regrets not saving her—but that doesn’t make any sense. Odiva’s grace bones are placed around her, just like Ailesse’s were placed at the foundations of Castelpont so the bridge could represent her body.

I break into a cold sweat. What I fear can’t be happening.

My mother can’t be capable of murdering her own child.

My legs shake. I’ve lost all feeling in my arms. I can’t raise my hand to push open the door. But I have to. I have to stop this. I can’t let—