Bone Crier's Moon (Bone Grace, #1)(97)

He still has me lifted in his arms. “Ailesse,” he whispers with the softest smile. He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t need to. He gently lowers me to the ground, and our lips touch again, tender and patient and adoring. This is a new dance between us, one that doesn’t lead to death but clings to the fragile hope of life.

His mouth floats along my jaw and treads a soft path down to my collarbone. When his lips trail up again, they brush a sensitive spot on my neck. I laugh quietly and turn my head to control myself. Then my eyes land on two packs resting against the wall. They’re crammed full, straining at their seams. I grin at them, though I’m confused. “What is all that?”

He glances past me. “Oh, um, a precaution against the dead. Turns out I’m not the best at fighting invisible people.” He winces, and his expression darkens. “It was much easier fighting Jules.”

“Jules?” My heart plummets. “What happened?”

Bastien rubs his forehead like he’s angry with himself for forgetting. “The Chained man didn’t leave the quarry. He went inside Jules’s body.”

I stiffen. I didn’t realize a Chained soul could do that. I look down the mining shaft and bite my lip. I don’t know how deep it goes, but the soul bridge should be at the bottom. “I think I can do something to help. When I play the siren song, it should lure him out of her.”

His brows draw together. “Is that the only way?”

“I don’t see any other. If the Chained man stays trapped inside Jules, he’ll steal all her Light.

He can’t be defeated until he’s ferried to the Underworld.” I squeeze Bastien’s hand. “I have to try.”

His mouth sets in a firm line. “Then I’ll help you.”

“No!” My eyes widen. “You can’t even see the dead.”

“We’ve worked through that difficulty before.”

“I can’t let . . .” My stomach twists. “What if you die because of me?”

He shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time I was up against that worry.”

“I’m serious, Bastien. This isn’t a good idea.”

“Ailesse.” He takes me by the shoulders and kisses me softly. “I’m not leaving you. You’re worth the risk, do you hear me? You’re always going to be worth the risk.”

I exhale slowly and fold myself against him.

“Besides,” he whispers, pressing his lips against my neck, “I have four casks of black powder.”





44

Sabine

I PACE THE STONES OF Castelpont and wring out my hands. I’ve already dug up my grace bones and tied them back onto my shoulder necklace. Ailesse’s amouré should return any moment. I’m waiting for the right time to take him captive. I need his map first.

I rub my golden jackal pendant as I search the skies and nearby trees. The silver owl is gone. Is that significant? If it is, I don’t know why.

I breathe in a clean minty smell and hear distant footsteps. I turn to the path leading to Dovré, and Cas comes around the bend. Cas. That’s what he asked me to call him. His full name is Casimir, and it suits him perfectly. I still can’t believe Ailesse’s amouré is someone so important. Actually, I can. He’s the kind of person I’ve always envisioned for her.

“Hello again.” Cas grins warmly and joins me on the bridge.

“Hello,” I reply, trying to squash the sudden butterflies in my stomach. I can’t think of him fondly when I’m about to deliver him to his death.

“I’m ready.” He taps the hilt of a fine sword on his belt. A dagger is also holstered to his thigh.

“And the map?”

“Ah, yes.” He removes a folded sheet of parchment from his pocket, passes it over, and holds up a lantern so we can study it together.

I unfold the map and examine the elaborate small-scale drawings on both sides. The first side shows a cutaway view of every level of the catacombs and mines. The second side is a bird’s-eye view of the four main levels, each sketched in separate rectangles that are stacked in a column.

Everything is labeled in the language of Old Galle, which I can’t read. It takes me several moments to identify the paths I’ve already taken on the first and second levels. I didn’t know any others existed deeper down.

“A few places appear to be chambers or larger quarries,” Cas says. “We should search those first.”

I can’t stop staring at the fourth level. Unlike the angular tunnels above, the passageways here are serpentine, and the chambers on this level look more like inkblots than structured quarries.

Maybe the fourth level is a web of caves. I point to a thicker line above a cavern that’s so deep I don’t know where it ends. “What do you think that is?” In the cutaway view of the map, the cavern’s sides run off the bottom edge of the parchment. I flip the map over to see the bird’s-eye view. Here, the thick line is a darkened strip running from one end of the cavern to the other.

“A staircase?” Cas suggests.

“No, stairs look like this.” I set my finger on a rectangle filled with lines for steps. I scrutinize the slightly waving edges of the darkened strip. “It could be a natural bridge.”

Cas leans closer, squinting at it. “Except it leads to a dead end.”