Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace #1)(92)

Unrequited love? I’m not sure I’m following. “What did she say?”

“That she wishes you the very best and knows you have a stronger attachment to Jules and basically she doesn’t want to come between you two.” He waves a hand in the air like all of this is obvious.

“What?” I exclaim. “Didn’t you tell her I’m not in love with Jules?”

He blinks. “Well, not exactly. I did point out you’d always cared for her.”

I drag my hands over my face. “I’m sure Ailesse took that all wrong.”

Marcel gives me a pained smile. “Maybe I’m not an expert on girls either.”

A miserable laugh escapes me. If Marcel wasn’t like a brother, I’d throttle him by the neck.

“Wait.” He freezes. “Does this mean you’re in love with Ailesse—like love love, not just ‘she’s disarmingly attractive because she’s my soulmate’ love?”

I stare at him and shift from foot to foot. My mouth has forgotten how to form words. “I . . . she’s . . .” I swallow and pace away. My hands wrap around the nape of my neck. Ailesse is incredible. She’s fierce and passionate and never backs down from a challenge. There’s no one like her. It’s impossible to describe how she makes me feel. “I don’t even know how to find her, Marcel.”

“I think I do.”

I immediately turn around.

“She asked for the bone flute,” he explains. “See, tonight’s a full moon—lowest tides and all that. Ailesse was set on trying to ferry. The dead are getting out of hand, she said, and if one of them attacked Jules again, she might die.”

I take another glance at Jules. She’s twitching and grimacing in her sleep. The Chained man is still inside her, feeding off of her Light. How much longer until all her Light is gone? I hastily grab my pack. “So Ailesse went to the land bridge?” What is she thinking? The dead will swarm her once she’s outside.

“No, to the bridge beneath the mines.”

I stop. And turn. And stare. “There’s a bridge beneath the mines?”

He beams and rocks back on his heels. “Recently discovered by yours truly and charted on a bona fide map.”

“And why would she go there to ferry?”

“Well, a symbol on the bridge matches one on the bone flute.”

My eyes narrow. “The bridge over earth?” I ask, remembering the symbol Ailesse sketched for me. “It’s a soul bridge like the land bridge, right?”

“She thinks so. It’s a fascinating possibility.”

I slowly stalk toward Marcel, and his grin falters. “So you gave Ailesse the bone flute, knowing she’d go down there—alone?” Blood pounds through my skull. “Do you remember the scene at the land bridge, Marcel? If all those Ferriers couldn’t control the dead, how do you think Ailesse will?”

He gulps. “It might not even work,” he says optimistically.

Every muscle in my body tightens. Every nerve stretches and frays. Ailesse wouldn’t attempt something this reckless unless she’d given up hope that we could break our soul-bond.

I grab my pack, dump it out, and hurry to the wall where Jules and Marcel have been stockpiling black powder. I stuff two small casks inside. That won’t be enough. I grab Jules’s pack and shove two more in there, as well.

Marcel fidgets, watching me. “Do you plan to blow up something?”

“How many dead people would you like to fight at once?” I ask.

He frowns at his sister. “None.”

I grab my lantern and heft the packs over my shoulders.

“Keep your lantern away from those,” he warns.

I nod. “Will you be okay in here with Jules?”

“Unless she learns how to breathe fire, which is highly improbable.”

“All right.” I walk over and open my hand. “Let’s see that map you made.”

“Map?” Marcel shrinks back. “Oh, that . . . well . . . I gave it to Ailesse.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and groan. “Marcel.”

“I thought of it as a going-away present,” he says sheepishly.

I run my hands through my hair and take a deep breath. There’s no time to argue. “Tell me how to get to that bridge.”





42


Sabine


THE SILVER OWL IS WAITING for me when I arrive at Castelpont, her wings iridescent in the light of the full moon. She doesn’t interfere when I remove my three grace bones from Ailesse’s shoulder necklace and bury them beneath the foundations of the bridge. It’s a sign that what I’m doing is right. Ailesse would do the same herself if she had her graces back.

At the center of the bridge, I clasp the necklace back on and kneel, spreading out my skirt. I didn’t think to change into a white dress, but I can’t see why it should matter. I remove Ailesse’s hairbrush from my hunting pack and pull out the last strands. Next, I withdraw her bone knife from my sheath. With a deep breath, I slice the blade across my palm. I welcome the pain. It’s been twenty-nine days since my friend was abducted, and now I’m finally doing something that will really help her.

I drip my blood over her auburn strands. “This is my hair, Tyrus. This is blood I share with my sister.” I pause, wondering why Odiva didn’t pray to Elara, too. I glance at the silver owl. She’s perched very still on the stone parapet, her head slightly bowed to her chest, her knowing eyes fast upon me. “Hear my voice, Tyrus, my soul’s siren song,” I continue, deciding I must pray to Tyrus alone. I can’t chance compromising the ritual. “I am Ailesse, sister of Sabine. Tonight, I finish my rite of passage.” But this isn’t my rite of passage; it’s the end of Ailesse’s.