Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(68)

She wants to ensure I don’t risk my life by trying to rescue her daughter. Isn’t Odiva worried about risking Ailesse’s life?

“It’s almost dawn.” Milicent sighs and looks up at the sky. “We need to turn back. Hopefully the others had better luck.”

Yes. Vain hope fills my chest. Maybe one of them found Ailesse.

We return empty-handed to the meeting spot Odiva designated—the cliffs over the submerged land bridge. Several Ferriers are already here. But no Ailesse. A painful lump rises in my throat. She was so close after all these days we’ve been apart. How did I let her get taken again?

Milicent and I near the other Ferriers, and their whispers reach my ears.

“Where have the dead gone?”

“Toward the city, of course, where the most people are.”

“They want Light.”

“What are we going to do about them?”

“Yes, Ailesse is alive.”

“Why hasn’t the matrone sent us to find her?”

Because the matrone has secrets. I don’t know what they are, but they have to be the reason she’s failing her daughter again and again.

The sun rises, casting a blade of light across the plateau, and Odiva finally rejoins us. Without the golden jackal. Claw marks scrape along the right side of her face and neck.

“Matrone.” Giselle gasps. “Are you all right?”

Odiva holds her head high and wears a reassuring smile. “I came this close to the jackal,” she tells all of us, gesturing to her wounds like they’re tokens of honor. “Tyrus is almost ready to give him to me.”

I frown, examining her scrapes closer. The lines are grouped three scratches wide, not four like the front claws of a canine. Plus, there’s a white feather with an amber edge caught among the eagle feathers of Odiva’s epaulettes. I know which animal it belongs to—the same animal whose talons match the marks on Odiva.

The silver owl.

“We will retire to Chateau Creux and offer prayers to Tyrus,” Odiva says. “Tomorrow, we shall begin the hunt anew.”

“What about Ailesse?” I blurt.

Pernelle looks at me like she’s wondering the same thing. She fidgets with her fox vertebra pendant and steps closer to Odiva. “I can lead another search party, Matrone. We might have better luck this time.”

Odiva takes a moment to respond. Her eyes are on Pernelle, but the noctule bat skull on her crown seems to stare down at me. “No one is more concerned than I about my daughter,” she says carefully. “But we must place our trust in the gods. If Tyrus has shown us the sign of his sacred jackal, we can rest assured he will protect Ailesse until the beast is ours.”

My teeth set on edge. Maybe my faith is weak, but I don’t trust the god of the Underworld to safeguard my friend. Odiva has been praying to him in secret, murmuring of the sacrifices she’s given him and something she wants brought back in return. Whatever it is, it means more to her than Ailesse.

She gives Pernelle a curt nod. “We hunt the jackal first. We are sacred Ferriers, and this is how Tyrus has chosen to help us take care of the dead. We must honor his wishes. Sometimes our loyalty must be tested again, even after our rites of passage.”

“Yes, Matrone.” Pernelle bows her head, but I can’t. My neck is stiff, and my head won’t bend.

I can’t help thinking of Ailesse’s failed rite of passage. Odiva promised me the gods would protect her daughter. Now I wonder if she chose me to be Ailesse’s witness because she knew the gods wouldn’t—at least Tyrus wouldn’t—and I wouldn’t be strong enough to intervene.

Tyrus’s sign may be the golden jackal, but I’m starting to suspect the silver owl is Elara’s. If the goddess sent her owl to attack Odiva, then she doesn’t want Odiva to take the jackal’s life.

“Our plan remains the same,” Odiva tells the Ferriers. “Should any of you find the jackal before I do, capture it but do not kill it. As Matrone, I must be the one to make the sacrifice.”

Maurille squints at Odiva with her good eye. The other one has swollen shut from the blow she took tonight. “Forgive me, Matrone, but Ailesse already has a working bone flute.” Exactly. None of this is necessary. “Perhaps a few of us should search for her, as Pernelle suggested, while the others pursue the golden jackal. Surely Tyrus would understand our wish to work toward all options.”

Odiva remains perfectly still, except for a thin smile, while her gaze narrows on Maurille.

“Then you do not understand Tyrus at all. Fortunately for our famille, I do. The god of the Underworld is a jealous and exacting god. If we do not demonstrate our full allegiance, do you really believe he will lead us to his jackal?”

Maurille slowly shakes her head and casts me an apologetic glance.

Odiva looks around at the others. “Does anyone else care to speak a contrary word, or can we agree to submit to the path Tyrus has shown us?”

More heads lower in obedience. I only lower my eyes.

Odiva exhales. “Good. Let us go home, then, and recover our strength for tomorrow.”

Go home? When Ailesse is known to be alive and missing? When the dead are loose and set upon Dovré?

Odiva never knew how to be a mother, and now she’s forgotten her priorities as our matrone.

She walks close beside me as we head back for Chateau Creux. My heart won’t stop pounding.