Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(26)

“If they cannot, it is no matter.” Odiva’s raven brows lower over her sharpened eyes. “I will find her. Ailesse is blood of my blood, bones of my bones. There is magic between a mother and daughter that even the gods cannot explain.” A deep ache rises in my chest, a yearning to experience what Odiva is talking about. Mon étoile, my mother used to call me. My star. “I will draw on that magic to track her. I will save my child.” Her voice exudes calm confidence. “Ailesse is alive. I can feel it now.”

A cautious breath fills my lungs. “Truly?”

“Truly.” Odiva smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Now go to sleep, Sabine. Your wounds will finish healing while you rest. Tomorrow, you will begin the hunt for your new graces. The gods may have need of you sooner than you think.” Her hand drifts to the lump of her hidden necklace. “I want you to be ready.”

I try not to squirm under her lingering stare. Odiva wants me to become a Ferrier—she’s made that painfully clear—but I also have the uneasy feeling she wants something more from me.

Something I won’t like.

“Ailesse will survive,” she reassures me. “I possess the strength of five grace bones. I will see to it. So do not pursue her.” Her tone is clear and final. “Leave my daughter to me.”

Odiva turns away, signaling the end of our conversation, and she withdraws to the place where I first saw her praying. She starts to murmur an unfamiliar chant. I can’t make out all her words, but I hear Ailesse’s name as Odiva lifts her hand to her bat skull crown. She cuts her finger on its teeth and drips her blood onto the limestone below, where the Leurress have etched the face of Tyrus’s golden jackal in the curve of Elara’s sickle moon. My stomach turns. I’ve never seen or heard of a ritual like the one she’s doing.

The matrone’s pitch-dark eyes slowly rise to me while her blood keeps spilling. “Goodnight, Sabine.”

My knees wobble. “Goodnight.”

She turns her back to me again, a mirror reflection of before—her arms outstretched in prayer, her cupped hands tipped downward. A marrow-deep shiver runs through me, and I hasten away.

In my room, I grab my bow and a quiver of bone-tipped arrows. I have no intention of sleeping tonight. I’d only toss and turn. Instead, I sneak through a side tunnel, bypassing the courtyard, and I leave Chateau Creux.

Clutching my wounded side, I run as fast as possible. Once I clear the castle by a mile, I remove my salamander grace bone and tie it onto Ailesse’s shoulder necklace. The act of clasping it around my own neck and shoulder seals my vow to her.

I will save you, Ailesse.

I can’t rely on the elders or Odiva to do what I must, especially since my matrone is more concerned about the bone flute.

As I begin my journey to Castelpont, Elara’s Light, like courage, seeps inside my soul. Even stronger is my fierce determination. I’ll search for the flute in the riverbed, then I’ll strike out for the hunting grounds of the forest. I’ll kill to obtain my last two grace bones, if that’s what it takes to save my friend. And this time I won’t weep.

I will be like Ailesse.





11

Ailesse

CURSE BASTIEN AND EVERY BONE in his body. I can’t see anything through this blindfold. My foot catches on a tree root—or maybe a rock—and I pitch forward. He hoists me back up before I hit the ground. I thrash against his iron grip on my arm. “Let go!” But he won’t. He hasn’t since we left Castelpont—since I failed to kill him.

Humiliation scalds my cheeks. My mother will never believe I’m capable again. Far worse than losing my grace bones, I lost the bone flute. Sabine will go back for it—that’s my only consolation—but I can’t shake the image of my mother’s furious eyes when Sabine tells her what happened.

I struggle to stay on my feet as Bastien continues to drag me through the forest. His two friends hedge us in, helping to guard me as we travel, Marcel in front and Jules behind. Their footsteps fall loud and clumsy. Marcel shuffles as he walks, and Jules limps on her hurt leg. Thank you for that, Sabine.

“You’re playing a game you’ll never win,” I warn them. “If you three had any wisdom between you, you’d let me go while you still have the chance. My mother will come looking for me, and you do not want to face her wrath.”

Bastien’s grip tightens, and my arm prickles with numbness. “If your mother wants you back, she’ll have to come to us in our territory.”

“You really think you can hide me?” I scoff. “There is nowhere you can dream of that my mother won’t find.”

“I’m counting on it.”

We come to an abrupt stop in the forest. I’ve tried to track my steps over the past hour and a half, but we’ve changed directions too many times. We’ve even walked through streams, with the current and against it. Bastien is trying to disorient me, and without my falcon, shark, and ibex graces, it’s working. Maybe he fears my mother will see through my eyes—impossible—and he thinks his tactics will help outrun her. Fool.

“You first, Jules,” Bastien says. “Then you can guide the Bone Crier through to the other side.”

“I say we let her squirm.” I startle at the nearness of Jules’s voice, just behind me, deep and scratchy for a girl. If I had my shark tooth, I’d have sensed her closeness. But my grace bones are in her possession now, a fact she keeps gloating about when she’s not hissing about her hurt leg. I hope it falls off.