Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(77)

“Why? Castelpont is where our soul-bond was formed.”

“But does that mean the bridge is what formed it?” He studies my confused expression. “Think about the land bridge, for starters. From what you’ve told me, the dead are lured there because that’s where the siren song is played. You also said the reason the dead are lured to you is because you were the one to play the song—at least with the more powerful bone flute.”

I nod, wondering what all of this has to do with what I’ve been talking about.

“Have you considered that what really forged our bond was also the song and not the bridge?”

He spreads his hands open. “Maybe the bridge wasn’t essential to the magic.”

I sit back and drop my stick of charcoal. “I don’t know. Bridges are deeply sown into everything it is to be a Leurress. They symbolize the connection between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and Ferriers are a part of that link. They’re just as important as the bridge itself in taking souls to the Beyond. Bridges even represent our bodies during rites of passage.

That’s why a Leurress must bury her grace bones at the foundations of a bridge so the gods can channel her energy to match her to her amouré—and that’s why her amouré comes to that same bridge to look for her.”

“But it’s still not the bridge that ultimately cements the bond, right?” Bastien gestures at my drawings. “You’re saying the bone flute has these symbols on it to show what times it can be used— either to ferry souls or to call a soulmate. But if a Leurress can use any bridge for her rite of passage, why would the flute depict a bridge over earth? That would mean she couldn’t use the flute anywhere else except Castelpont. But the Leurress do use the flute at other bridges—bridges over water. At least the bridge my father was on was over water when I saw him . . .” Bastien’s voice cracks, and he masks it by coughing.

I start to reach for him, then draw back. I want to offer him comfort, but how can I? It was a Leurress, like me, who killed his father. I tighten my hand into a fist. For the first time, I’m bitterly angry with whoever it was in my famille that hurt Bastien so badly.

He rubs his fingers across his lips and takes another moment to compose himself. “What I’m saying is Castelpont can’t be significant to all the Leurress.”

“But could it be significant to us?” I lean closer, my pulse surging faster with hope. “Maybe if you and I return there on the next full moon, we can break our bond.”

“How?”

I shake my head, trying to find a reason. “Different songs make different things happen. The song I played near the soul bridge isn’t the same song I played to lure you to Castelpont. Maybe there’s another song that can help us.”

“Do you know any different songs?”

I sigh. “No.”

A nearby candle flame quivers as we grow quiet. The wick needs trimming. On the floor between us, Bastien’s fingers subtly bend and straighten. He takes a tremulous breath and slides his hand over mine. He gives it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll figure it out, Ailesse.”

Warmth shivers through me. I shouldn’t allow his touch to affect me like this. Not when our fates are so bleak. But I can’t help it. I tentatively turn my hand over. Our palms meet, our eyes connect, and I curl my fingers around his. My heart gives a hard pound, reminding me to draw breath. “Bastien,” I whisper. There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t find the words to express how much I’m coming to care for him. “I . . . I don’t want you to die.”

He doesn’t look away from me. Any trace of his earlier shyness is gone. “I don’t want you to die either.” The candles shimmer in his eyes, and he brushes his thumb over mine. “There’s an Old Gallish phrase my father used to say whenever he’d have to leave for a little while. He’d hold my hand just like this and whisper, ‘Tu ne me manque pas. Je ne te manque pas.’ It means ‘You’re not missing from me. I’m not missing from you.’”

I smile softly, committing those words to memory. “I like that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ailesse.” Bastien’s gaze is earnest and tender and deeply affectionate. It’s like Elara’s Light shining down on me. “We’re going to stick together, all right? No one’s going to die.”

I nod, trying my best to believe it. I lay my head on his shoulder.

No one’s going to die.





35

Sabine

I RUN OUT FROM THE catacombs tunnel and roughly extinguish my torch on the grass. With a furious cry, I hurl the torch across the ravine floor and dig my fingers in my hair. I still haven’t found Ailesse.

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve ventured here, finally daring to enter the catacombs with the help of my three grace bones. Now I resent them. If my muscles ached or I was short of breath or my fatigue felt unendurable, I might feel like I was working hard enough to save my best friend.

Instead, I’m growing so agitated and angry that I want to claw anything in sight. I don’t know if it’s an effect of my new golden jackal grace or my own frustration with myself.

Eleven days have passed since ferrying night—twenty-six since Ailesse’s failed rite of passage.

She must think I haven’t even tried to help her. I won’t return home until I do, although I’m avoiding home, anyway. No one knows I killed the jackal.