Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(3)

“And a dive attack off a cliff isn’t threatening?”

“Better than a slow swim from the shore. I’d never gain any momentum on her.”

“That isn’t the point.”

Ailesse crosses her arms. “Our hunting should involve danger. That is the point. The animals with the best graces should be difficult to kill. Otherwise we’d all be wearing squirrel bones.”

A wall of hurt slams into me. My hand closes around the tiny skull resting above my heart. It hangs from a waxed cord, my only grace bone.

Ailesse’s eyes widen. “There’s nothing wrong with your bone,” she stammers, realizing her mistake. “I wasn’t making light of it. A fire salamander is worlds better than a rodent.”

I look down at my feet. “A salamander is even smaller than a rodent. Everyone knows it was an easy kill.”

Ailesse takes my hand and holds it for a long moment, even while her shark swims away. “It wasn’t easy for you.” Our toes are almost touching, her creamy skin against my olive. “Besides, a fire salamander has the gift to heal quickly. No other Leurress had the wisdom to obtain that grace before.”

She makes me sound so clever. The truth is Odiva was pressuring me to make my first kill, and out of desperation I chose what wouldn’t make me weep. I chose wrong. My eyes were red for days, and I couldn’t bear to touch the dead creature. Ailesse boiled the flesh off his bones and made my necklace for me. She suggested I use the vertebrae, but to her surprise, I chose the skull. It reminded me of the salamander’s life and personality the most. It was the best homage I could pay him. I couldn’t bring myself to carve any pretty designs onto the skull, and Ailesse never asked me why.

She never makes me talk about anything I don’t want to.

I wipe my hand under my nose. “You better get your shark.” If anyone can do it, she can. I’ll stop fretting about the danger.

She smiles my favorite smile, the one that reveals all her teeth and makes me feel like life is one long adventure, large enough to keep even Ailesse satisfied.

She unstraps a spear from her back. We fashioned it from a sapling and her bone knife. Like all ritual weapons, it’s made from the bones of a stag to symbolize perpetual life. Ailesse backs up several steps and grips the spear’s shaft. With a running start, she launches herself off the cliff.

Her leap is tremendous. Her falcon’s wing bone can’t make her fly, but it definitely makes a jump impressive.

She shrieks in the thrill of the moment and brings her arms together, one hand over the other, to break the water. Her body aligns, her toes point, and she plunges in headfirst.

Her dive barely creates a splash. I creep closer to the edge of the cliff and squint, wishing for Ailesse’s vision. Won’t she come up for a breath? Maybe she means to strike the shark first. That would be the smartest way to catch it off guard.

I wait for her to emerge, and my heart thrums faster. I count each beat. Eight, nine . . . thirteen, fourteen . . . twenty-one, twenty-two . . . forty-seven . . .

Ailesse has two grace bones, the ibex and the falcon. Neither can help her hold her breath for long.

Sixty-three.

I crouch and lean over the edge. “Ailesse?” I shout.

The water stirs. Nothing surfaces.

Seventy-five.

My racing pulse can’t be keeping correct time. She hasn’t been down there this long. Maybe thirty seconds. Possibly forty.

Eighty-six.

“Ailesse!”

Ninety-two.

I watch for the blue water to turn bloodred. But whose blood will it be?

One hundred.

I curse all the gods’ names and throw myself off the cliff.

In my panic, I jump feetfirst. I quickly straighten my body and pull my flailing arms to my sides—almost. They still slap the water. I gasp with pain and release a spray of bubbles—air I need.

I clamp my mouth shut and glance around me. The water is clear, but the salt stings my eyes; my salamander was a freshwater creature. I twist in a circle, searching for my friend. I hear a faint sound of struggle.

Several feet beneath me, Ailesse and the shark are locked in combat.

Her spear is in the shark’s mouth. The beast doesn’t appear injured and bites on the shaft Ailesse is holding. Ailesse is thrown about like a reed in the wind, refusing to let go.

I scream her name and lose more breath. I’m forced to swim to the surface and gulp in air before I swim back down again.

I charge forward with no plan in mind, only viciousness in my veins and desperate fear in my heart. Ailesse can’t die. My best friend can’t die.

The tiger shark’s face is ferocious. Serrated teeth. Lidless eyes. An oversized snout that makes her look even hungrier. How did Ailesse think she could defeat her? Why did I allow her to jump?

Her spear snaps in two between the shark’s jaws. The bone knife sinks. Ailesse is left with a three-foot pole. She jabs the shark’s mandible and narrowly dodges a vicious bite.

The shark doesn’t notice me. I reach for my dagger, but the blade is caught in my bloated sheath. Weaponless, I use all the force I can muster and kick the shark in her side. Her tail whips, but nothing more. I grab her gills and try to tear them. I can’t. At least I’ve disturbed her. She bites once at me—barely missing my arm—and darts away behind a coral reef.

Ailesse floats nearby, her energy spent. The broken spear slips through her fingers. Go! I mouth, and point to the surface. She needs air.