Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(71)

My brows twitch. I’m openly staring at her. Did she just admit a pivotal event of her life could be wrong? “If you pray hard enough, do you think you can break our bond?”

She cracks the smallest smile. “So you believe the gods should be worshipped, after all?”

“Depends.” I suppress a grin.

Her shoulders shake with silent laughter, but then her expression falls. “Our bond is already set in motion, Bastien. Praying can’t break the inevitable outcome.”

“Is it really inevitable?” I scoot closer. “I mean, if we protect each other—and promise not to kill each other—then we’ll both come out of this alive and kicking, whether we’re soul-bound or not.”

She tugs on a thread of her ruined dress. “Actually, the outcome is more complicated than that.”

“How?”

“Once an amouré is claimed, his life is forfeit.”

“Claimed . . . as in killed?”

“No, claimed from the moment the siren song calls him to the bridge.”

My throat closes on a forced laugh. “Well, I’m still living, right?”

She swallows. “For now.”

“What do you mean?”

Ailesse tips her head back, like she’s staring at a sky I can’t see. “You have one year, Bastien.”

Her chest sinks in. “If I don’t complete the ritual before then, you’ll die regardless. The gods always find a way.”

I grow silent for a moment, thinking about how Jules and Marcel’s father died. “And how are you punished if you fail?”

She draws a long breath and holds my gaze. “The gods find a way to kill me, too.”

My heart struggles to beat. “What kind of raw deal is that?”

Ailesse looks down at her hands. “No worse than the fate of Tyrus and Elara, I suppose.”

“What, eternal glory?” I scoff.

“They have suffered, too. They married in secret when the world was formed. Belin and Ga?lle forbade their kingdoms to join, but Tyrus and Elara wanted to be together. When Belin found out, he cast Heaven into the night sky, and Ga?lle opened the earth to swallow Hell. Tyrus and Elara have never been able to be together since.”

“So let me get this straight. They want you to feel their pain?”

“Or they want us to learn how to overcome it. Maybe it would show them how.”

I rub a hand over my face and push up to my feet. I have to get out of here. I can’t listen to stories of gods that punish mortals because they can’t figure out their own problems. “Stay here and rest, all right? I’m going to find Jules and Marcel and get back your bones.”

“And the flute?”

I nod. “See you soon.”

She fists her hands. “I can’t stay down here for long, Bastien. I won’t. I’m a Leurress. It’s my job to protect people from the dead.”

“I know.”

But I have a job, too. And right now it’s to protect her. She’ll be able to defend herself best if she has her graces back. “Stay, Ailesse. I won’t be long.”





32

Ailesse

I PACE AT THE EDGE of the pit. I imagine I still have my tiger shark vision to see in the dark and the eyesight of my peregrine falcon to perceive what’s far ahead of me. Maybe then the weak light of my lantern would be enough to illuminate the limestone quarry at the open end of this room that I share with Bastien. But then again, if I had my graces, I wouldn’t be hiding down here, waiting for him with all my nerves strung taut. I don’t know how long he’s been gone—I can’t tell how long I slept—but I’ve been awake for at least ten hours.

What if one of the Chained attacked Bastien and that’s why he hasn’t come back? My stomach twists into a tight knot. I can’t stay here any longer.

I grab the lantern and hurry over to the scaffolding. My legs shake like brittle autumn leaves as I climb. I grit my teeth and push past my weakness. If the moon was full last night, it would have filled me with a greater well of Elara’s Light, but the strength I felt under the stars is gone, as well as the strength from my grace bones. No matter. If I killed the tiger shark after almost drowning in the lagoon, I’ll find the stamina to fight the dead.

There are only a few branching tunnels down here, nothing like the catacombs maze that led off the ravine. I hold my breath when I pass a section lined with bones. Soon enough, I find the door to the chapel cellar. I climb the ladder, open up the hatch, and shove the tattered rug aside.

Once I’m out, I lean against the altar for a moment. I’m already out of breath. Not a good sign.

I glance around the chapel’s interior, and my gaze rivets to several boarded-up arched windows. The muted light from the heavens funnels inside through the slats. It’s nighttime. My heart pounds. I need that energy.

I push away from the altar and rush for the tall double doors at the front of the chapel. The bruise on the back of my head throbs, and my vision starts to spin like it did last night.

I reach the doors and fumble with the latches. They’re stiff and won’t budge. I ram my shoulder against the splintering wood. Once, twice. Perspiration wets my brow, but the effort is worth it. The door budges open.

I stagger out into the street just as the air shudders with a crack of thunder. A few drops of rain splash on my face. I release a heavy sigh and curse my bad luck. The thickening storm clouds dilute Elara’s starlight even more, and only a feeble measure of strength steals into me.