Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(112)

She lifts her gaze to me. Her eyes are red. “Of course you didn’t. I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault, Sabine.” But it is, even though I never meant to hurt her. “I know you were trying to save me.

Somehow I . . . I saw you.” Her brow wrinkles. “It was like a dream. You gave me hope when I needed it.” Her mouth trembles into a smile. It’s small and fleeting, but genuinely grateful. It eases the tightness in my chest.

Cas draws breath like he’s going to say something, but I press my blade closer against his neck.

I don’t know what to do about him anymore. If I let him go, Ailesse will still have to track him down later. “I realize this is a difficult time for you,” I say tentatively, “but we need to take care of Cas—Casimir,” I correct myself. I don’t want her thinking I’m on casual terms with him. “This is your ritual knife,” I add.

The pulse at Cas’s throat jumps, vibrating along the bone blade. He grapples with the hilt to yank it away, but he can’t outmatch my strength.

Ailesse isn’t listening anymore. She stares at my shoulder necklace—her necklace. The golden jackal pendant suddenly weighs heavy. “You completed your rite of passage?” she asks.

Disappointment etches across her face. Is she jealous? She’s never been jealous of me. “You really killed your amouré?”

“No!” The thought is revolting, although I came close to killing hers. Now I wish I had.

She bites her quivering lip. “Then you’ve never met the person you’re meant to love. Even if he wasn’t chosen for you.” She swipes away more tears. “I wish . . .” Her voice cracks. “I wish you could understand my loss. I need you, Sabine. I don’t know how I can bear this alone.”

My eyes blur as her tears stream faster. “You’re not alone,” I say gently, and wrench Cas’s arm behind his back. “I do understand. It took everything in me to believe you weren’t dead when Odiva told me you were.”

Lines pinch between Ailesse’s brows. “What?”

All the emotions that churned inside me over the past month return in full force. I fight to hold them back, even though Ailesse has always been the one to console me.

She shakes her head. “Oh, Sabine . . . I’m so sorry she hurt you like that.” She doesn’t mention how badly my words must be hurting her, too.

“My love for you may not be the love you’re talking about,” I say, “but that doesn’t mean it’s any less powerful.” I take a steadying breath. “We’re sisters, Ailesse.”

She draws back. Studies me gravely. “What are you talking about?”

I lift a shoulder and try to smile. “Well, we do have different fathers.”

A small laugh escapes her. “That isn’t possible,” she says, but I see her pain cut deeper as the truth settles. I silently curse myself. Why did I think this news might be comforting?

A quiet sound comes from the center of the bridge. A noise of pain.

Ailesse tenses in disbelief. Then her gaze floods with hope. “Bastien!”

She darts up and runs for him without watching her footing. Tiny fissures crack beneath her.

His eyes peel open. He rolls his head to see her.

The limestone groans. The fissures lengthen. Widen.

My heart rises up my throat. “Ailesse, move!”

She looks down. A deep clap of thunder rumbles. But there’s no lightning.

The side of the bridge breaks away—a foot-wide sliver down the length of it.

Ailesse falls.

“No!” I cry.

I release Casimir and sprint as fast as I can. Bastien crawls for Ailesse, rasping her name.

She catches herself on a rough handhold off the side of the bridge. I drop the ritual knife and snatch up the pouch with her grace bones. I don’t stop running. The strange energy Ailesse had when she fought our mother is gone.

She drags her upper body over the edge of the bridge and braces herself on her elbows. She shakes, hanging by her folded arms. Her jaw is set. Her eyes are riveted on Bastien’s.

Crack!

A two-foot chunk of limestone splits away from the bridge. It crashes against Ailesse’s leg, and she screams. Her arms scrape and slide off the edge. By some miracle, her hands find purchase. She clings on by her fingers.

Blood rushes through my head. “Don’t let go!”

Someone yanks Ailesse’s pouch from my grip. I spin around and face Cas. His sword is drawn and dangerously close to my chest. “Are you going to steal this like her mother did?”

“Give those back! The bones strengthen her.”

“Bones?”

There’s no time to explain. “Please, she needs them!”

Ailesse releases a terrible cry of exertion. Cas and I jerk around. Her dress is torn away at her left leg. Trails of blood drip from her injured knee. She whimpers and tugs herself up, hanging by her elbows once more.

“Ailesse . . .” Bastien’s voice is hoarse, but I hear him. Whatever he says is drowned by an oncoming battle cry.

Cas’s nine soldiers storm in through the tunnel, their swords raised. One man has a nocked bow and aims at Bastien. “Don’t shoot!” I say. “Cas, tell them to go! Ailesse needs my help!”

His face hardens. “Arrest Sabine!” he calls to his men.