Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(90)

“This is my hair, Tyrus. This is blood I share with my mother.”

I flinch back slightly. That isn’t how a sacrificial prayer begins. That isn’t how any prayer begins.

“Hear my voice, Tyrus, my soul’s siren song. I am Ailesse, daughter of Odiva.”

My heartbeat slows. Odiva isn’t trying to kill Ailesse. She’s trying to represent her before the god of the Underworld. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t raise the timbre of her voice to sound like Ailesse. The blood and hair must be enough to appease Tyrus.

“I revoke my birthright, my claim as my mother’s heir.”

My eyes widen.

“My word is my bond. Let it be so.” She releases a heavy sigh, and her posture wilts. Tears stream down her face, and she runs her fingers along the lock of Ailesse’s hair. “There, Tyrus. The ritual is done.” She places the hair back in the bowl and clutches her bleeding hand to her chest. “Let that satisfy you. I am speaking now as your servant Odiva. Accept my many sacrifices these past two years. Let them make amends for the two years I shared with my love.”

Heat burns through my face. I hate that I’m the offspring of her betrayal to the gods.

She opens her eyes, but keeps her head bowed. “I have given you the Light of thousands of Unchained souls, Tyrus, instead of ferrying them to Elara.”

A wave of dizziness slams into me. What did she just say?

“Now I ask you to honor your end of our bargain.” She swallows. “Release my love from the Underworld. Let him hear my siren song and become my true amouré.”

I blink, trying to scatter the black spots in my vision. Am I really understanding her? Did my mother really make thousands of souls wrongfully suffer—for eternity—in order to resurrect my father and bind their lives together?

She strokes Ailesse’s hair again with trembling fingers. “As for the child of the man you and Elara chose for me, I have all but done away with her.” Her breath shudders. “I beg of you, Tyrus . . . please alter the requirement you first gave me. Do not make me kill my firstborn daughter.”

My ears start to ring. Bile scalds my throat. Just when I thought Ailesse might be safe from our mother—just when I had the tiniest measure of relief, knowing even though she lost her birthright, she hadn’t lost the power of her graces—I finally understand the depths of what Odiva has done, why she’s committed such terrible crimes against the Unchained.

She gave Tyrus everything she could think of, if it meant Ailesse might live—everything except retracting her bargain. And that’s the worst crime of all. Because I believe she’d kill my sister in the end, if it was the only way to bring my father back.

“Grant me a sign that I may spare Ailesse’s life.” Odiva spreads her arms and cups her hands downward toward the Underworld once more. “Grant me your golden jackal.”

But I’ve already killed the golden jackal.

Which means Odiva will never receive the sign she needs. She’ll grow desperate and resort to the final task necessary to appease Tyrus—what he asked of her when she first struck this bargain.

Killing Ailesse.

I trip backward from the door. I can’t draw air. Light-headedness seizes me all over again. I brace my hand against the stone wall so I don’t buckle over. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m not learning to love my mother; I’m growing to hate her. I’ll never give her the bone flute. If she uses it to ferry my father back from the dead, Tyrus might claim Ailesse’s life, anyway. The silver owl showed me my friend is already close to dying as it is.

The silver owl.

My stomach tenses. If she leads me to Castelpont again, I’m going to . . . I’m going to . . .

The answer shoots through me like a thunderbolt.

My hands ball into fists. My muscles tighten in readiness.

I’m going to become Ailesse’s proxy.

Odiva has shown me how—though I have a different ritual in mind.

I inhale and set my jaw, just like Ailesse would. I leave my mother to her vain pleadings and creep down the winding stairs until I reach the caves. I race through branching tunnels to the room Ailesse and I used to share. Her tortoiseshell hairbrush rests on a small table with her belongings. Only a few auburn strands are left on the bristles. Odiva must have taken the rest.

I stuff the brush in my hunting pack, along with my simple bone flute. Ailesse’s ritual knife is already sheathed on my belt. I throw on a cloak, draw up the hood, and leave for Castelpont.

I finally know how to save my sister’s life.





41


Bastien


I HURRY BACK THROUGH THE catacombs as fast as I can. My father’s knife jostles at my hip, secure in its sheath again, but I’m still a mess of nerves. I hate being separated from my friends, especially after Jules got attacked under the quarry dome. And I hate being apart from Ailesse, especially after I almost kissed her.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for her, but I did. Hard. Deep. I don’t know how I’ll ever explain it to Jules.

When I reach the wall of skulls, a guttural scream pulls me to a stop. That was Marcel. Who never screams.

I burst into the room with my knife drawn. “The Chained man—where is he?”

Jules presses her back against a wall. Marcel holds a clay pot defensively.