Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(92)

Jules’s mouth curves into a vicious sneer. “I like this game.”

“Good.” I covertly slip my knife up my sleeve, plant my feet, and spread my arms open. “I’m ready.”

She spits on the ground. Lifts her knife. Bends her knees and takes aim.

My heart beats erratically.

She pulls her arm back.

My knife slides to my hand.

She throws hard, and I swing my knife with practiced speed. Her blade hits mine. Metal clashes against metal as I knock her knife away.

“You’re stronger,” I admit. “But Jules’s throw is more deadly. I could have never blocked it.”

She growls and springs for me. Marcel jumps on her back and wraps his arm around her neck.

She thrashes violently. He grapples to hang on.

I rush over to brace him. Jules jerks and flails with both of us on her, like she’s kicked a hornet’s nest.

“Squeeze tighter!” I shout. Marcel shakes with exertion.

Jules rams us against the nearest wall. A bright burst of pain hits my back. Most of the air leaves my lungs. I manage to croak out, “Don’t let go!”

She wheels around to ram us against the other wall. But just as she comes near it, she staggers to a stop and suddenly goes limp. Marcel releases his hold at once. I catch Jules so she doesn’t crash on the ground. Together, we gently lower her on her back.

Her eyes are shut, and her face is blotched red. Marcel winces. “Please tell me I didn’t just murder my sister.”

“She’s breathing,” I reply. “Do you have any rope?” He finds me some, and I drag Jules onto the limestone slab. We tie her up and anchor the end of the rope under the large stone, like we did with Ailesse when we— “Ailesse.” My pulse races. “Where is she? Did another Chained attack her?”

“No.” Marcel pops three knuckles and takes a step back from me. “But she might have taken the opportunity to leave while you were gone.”

I can’t move for a moment. I’m a child again, abandoned in my father’s cart. “Did she . . .” I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. “Did she really think I’d hold her captive again?” I thought we’d learned to trust one another.

Marcel releases a heavy exhale and motions me several feet away from Jules. “Look,” he says in a low voice, even though she’s still unconscious, “I’m not an expert on romance—that is to say, I am madly in love with Birdie, but I can’t quite put a finger on the logic of it—but Ailesse did display some classic symptoms of unrequited love: weepy eyes, angst-ridden sighs, dramatic statements of farewell.”

Unrequited love? I’m not sure I’m following. “What did she say?”

“That she wishes you the very best and knows you have a stronger attachment to Jules and basically she doesn’t want to come between you two.” He waves a hand in the air like all of this is obvious.

“What?” I exclaim. “Didn’t you tell her I’m not in love with Jules?”

He blinks. “Well, not exactly. I did point out you’d always cared for her.”

I drag my hands over my face. “I’m sure Ailesse took that all wrong.”

Marcel gives me a pained smile. “Maybe I’m not an expert on girls either.”

A miserable laugh escapes me. If Marcel wasn’t like a brother, I’d throttle him by the neck.

“Wait.” He freezes. “Does this mean you’re in love with Ailesse—like love love, not just ‘she’s disarmingly attractive because she’s my soulmate’ love?”

I stare at him and shift from foot to foot. My mouth has forgotten how to form words. “I . . .

she’s . . .” I swallow and pace away. My hands wrap around the nape of my neck. Ailesse is incredible. She’s fierce and passionate and never backs down from a challenge. There’s no one like her. It’s impossible to describe how she makes me feel. “I don’t even know how to find her, Marcel.”

“I think I do.”

I immediately turn around.

“She asked for the bone flute,” he explains. “See, tonight’s a full moon—lowest tides and all that. Ailesse was set on trying to ferry. The dead are getting out of hand, she said, and if one of them attacked Jules again, she might die.”

I take another glance at Jules. She’s twitching and grimacing in her sleep. The Chained man is still inside her, feeding off of her Light. How much longer until all her Light is gone? I hastily grab my pack. “So Ailesse went to the land bridge?” What is she thinking? The dead will swarm her once she’s outside.

“No, to the bridge beneath the mines.”

I stop. And turn. And stare. “There’s a bridge beneath the mines?”

He beams and rocks back on his heels. “Recently discovered by yours truly and charted on a bona fide map.”

“And why would she go there to ferry?”

“Well, a symbol on the bridge matches one on the bone flute.”

My eyes narrow. “The bridge over earth?” I ask, remembering the symbol Ailesse sketched for me. “It’s a soul bridge like the land bridge, right?”

“She thinks so. It’s a fascinating possibility.”

I slowly stalk toward Marcel, and his grin falters. “So you gave Ailesse the bone flute, knowing she’d go down there—alone?” Blood pounds through my skull. “Do you remember the scene at the land bridge, Marcel? If all those Ferriers couldn’t control the dead, how do you think Ailesse will?”