Bone Crier's Dawn

by Kathryn Purdie

  Ailesse snatches up the keys and quickly tries them in the lock. A viper lunges for my leg. She beats it away with her crutch and turns back to the keys, hands shaking. “Why would Sabine send meadow vipers if she knew you were here, too? I thought you were friends.”

  More like allies, I think past my throbbing pain. “Sabine . . . sent them?”

  Ailesse finds the right key. The lock tumblers clang. She yanks the door open and shoves the bone knife into my grip. She grabs my sword and hacks at a snake lashing toward my ankle. “Hurry, Bastien. Concentrate on walking. I’ll keep the vipers away.”

  I stumble out of my cell and down the dungeons’ corridor. She hobbles around me, swinging and stabbing. “It has to be Sabine,” she finally answers my question. “No other Leurress has meadow viper graces, and she’s matrone—at least for now.” A dark expression crosses her face. “And as matrone, Sabine could obtain more grace bones. Besides, I’ve only seen my mother practice this kind of magic. Maybe you have to be matrone to access it.”

  The dungeons’ stairs come into view. Ailesse heads for them. I clench my jaw and follow close behind her. She clears a path with her sword like she’s scything wheat. Once we reach the first step, we instinctively link arms. She bears me up to keep moving, and I balance her on her crutch. I kick away the snakes that slither from the upper level. Ailesse stabs two others.

  We reach a cracked door at the top of the flight. I shoulder it open. We’re in a narrow hallway. Vipers dangle from the sconces and zigzag along the floor. Ailesse wards away the nearest snakes. We rush forward, trailed by sharp hisses.

  “I should warn you,” she says between gasps of air. “Sabine didn’t open the Gates to the Beyond.”

  A viper strikes for my leg. I slash its body with the bone knife. “How do you know?”

  “A Chained woman”—Ailesse severs the head off a snake— “attacked the king tonight.” Her eyes grow pained. “He’s dead, Bastien.”

  Coldness grips my feverish body. We hurry into an adjoining hallway and enter the long corridor that runs the length of the castle. I struggle to absorb the implications of what she’s just said. If one Chained is loose, many more will be. And if King Durand is dead . . . “The prince is still alive, isn’t he?”

  Ailesse glances away. “As far as I know.”

  Merde. Then Casimir is the king of South Galle now. Which means he’s more powerful, more important . . . maybe even more desirable to Ailesse. She’ll have an even harder time killing him. My stomach knots. “You have to hide underground again.” I can’t think about their soul-bond right now. I have a more pressing worry. “The Chained will find you like they did before and—”

  “I didn’t play the siren song this time.” She grimaces, hobbling slower on her crutch. Her knee must be killing her. “I’m no more endangered than anyone else is.”

  At least there’s that. She should still get out of here. She swipes away another charging viper, and I link arms with her again to support her leg. My wrist throbs harder, but I square my jaw against the pain. She holds her sword pointed forward, ready to defend me, but the snakes slither out of my path now, as well as hers. As long as we’re physically connected, I’m safe from them.

  Exhausted, I lean against her. Some of the tightness in my muscles eases as I feel the steadying warmth from her body. “Head for the new castle well,” she says. “The soldiers would have abandoned it because of the vipers.”

  I press forward down the corridor. It’s mostly empty of people, except for a couple of slumped figures that look horribly like the dead dungeons guard. I swallow. It’s hard to imagine that Sabine was willing to accept these casualties when she sent the snakes. Hopefully most of the people in the castle are hiding in closets or wherever else they can protect themselves.

  We finally reach the great hall. What’s left of the feast is now ridden with vipers. They writhe over tables and around goblets, their forked tongues jutting past their sharp fangs. When morning comes, these monsters will be gone. Dawn is what broke the spell when Odiva sent the bats into the catacombs. I glance past the windows at the brightening storm clouds. I’m betting the sun will rise in the next half hour.

  Ailesse and I move through the foyer leading to the courtyard. The rainfall lets up to a steady drizzle. Vipers slither on the stones and around the puddles that haven’t drained. I kick a couple of snakes out of my path, ones that are too slow to dart out of the way. We reach the door to the well tower. I fling it open and stagger inside.

  Dizziness racks my head. I’m panting, and the stab wound on my back throbs worse than my snakebite. But I can’t stop now. I have to get Ailesse down the well. Snakes are wriggling out of it, working their way up the ladder. She still needs my help, and I need her protection.

  “I have an idea,” she says. “Pass me the bone knife.” When I do, she drops her sword and crutch and nicks her palm with the knife. On purpose. She smears some of her blood onto my forehead.

  I wince. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to trick the snakes. All Leurress rituals involve blood and bone. Sabine shares my blood. I think that’s what drew the snakes to Beau Palais. So it makes sense that my blood is what’s protecting me—and hopefully you, too, now.” She dabs more blood onto my neck. “Let’s see if I’m right.”

  We carefully pull away from each other. She steadies herself against a wall, and I quickly grab the fallen sword and spin around to attack. No vipers strike. The ones at my feet scatter when I take a step. Even the snake that drops from the rafters swings away from me. I exhale and hand Ailesse her crutch. “You’re brilliant.” I kiss her cheek.

  Her smile is fleeting. She grabs a torch from a sconce. Soldiers must have left it burning. “Dawn will be here soon,” she says, and passes me the torch. “You better leave while you still have the chance.”

  I stiffen. “You mean we better leave.”

  She shrinks back a little, like she did in the dungeons. She won’t meet my gaze.

  “Ailesse, look at me.” I wait several moments until, at last, she lifts her beautiful eyes. They’re golden in the torchlight, fierce and unshakable. “You need to come with me,” I say. “You don’t owe the prince anything.”

  “He just lost his father.”

  “He’s been preparing for that. Everyone knew the king wasn’t long for this world.”

  “There are still the vipers to think about. If Casimir dies, I die and—”

  “If he’s survived the night so far, he’s going to make it till morning. You said it yourself—dawn is almost here.”

  She releases a slow exhale. “I’ve lost Light, Bastien.”

  My gut folds on itself. “What?”

  “The Chained woman, she attacked Casimir, too. She drew out some of his Light, and when that happened, it drained out of me as well.”

  I can’t breathe for a moment. The thought of Ailesse losing her soul is too terrible. “A-are you all right?” Everyone needs Light, but it’s even more critical for the Leurress. If they can’t take it in regularly from Elara’s moon- and starlight, they starve and weaken. And no one gets back Light that’s been stolen by a Chained. “How much did you lose?”

  “Not much. I’ll be fine.” She sets her jaw. “But don’t you see? I have to stay here until I can find my grace bones. Then on the next ferrying night, I can force the Chained to move on.” She draws herself up taller. “I’ll fix everything once my famille takes me back as matrone.”

  I stare at her, my pulse crashing fast. Ailesse was torn from me at the soul bridge, and I’ve clawed my way back to her. “So you just want me to leave you here with all the Chained loose and your soul draining of Light whenever Casimir’s does?”

  She narrows her gaze at my sharp tone. “Fighting the Chained is what I’ve trained to do all my life.”

  My eyes sting. I’m furious with her. I’m more furious with myself for not being her amouré, even though that’s irrational and impossible and solves nothing. I hate that she has to e
ndanger herself to guard another boy’s life and soul—especially when he’s the one hiding her grace bones. “How can I—?” My voice breaks. I suck in a deep breath. “How can I let you go?”

  “By trusting me.” She sounds as exasperated as I do.

  “Ailesse, please . . .” She flinches when I reach for her, and takes a small step backward. I feel that new rift widening between us, and I don’t understand what put it there.

  “You know how I feel about you, Bastien. No matter what happens, that’s never going to change.”

  “No matter what happens?” A terrible ache builds inside me. “What do you mean?”

  She shakes her head like she needs to explain something, but she doesn’t even know what it is. Then suddenly whatever’s restraining her snaps. She rushes forward and slides her arms around my torso. She embraces me fiercely, arms trembling. I can’t even hold her back with the torch and the sword in my hands. I still feel her slipping away. It’s too easy to picture her wearing a crown and seated on a throne beside Casimir. She was born to be a queen.

  Is that what her gods have plotted all along—for her to rule the Leurress and South Galle? Then I curse her gods. Ailesse isn’t their pawn, but they’re still blocking her at every turn, forcing her to move in the direction they want. They won’t let her choose her own life.

  But what if she could choose? What if no one else’s life was on the line?

  Would she still choose me?

  She inhales, long and deep, and unfolds her arms from around me. “Go, Bastien.” She brushes her mouth against mine, then hardens her face like a shield. My chest weighs unbearably heavy. What if I never see her again?

  It takes all my strength to step away from her. I slide my sword under my belt, climb into the well, and step down the first three rungs of the ladder. I pause. Force myself not to look at her. It will make this goodbye feel more permanent. “When you decide to leave here—”

  “I will leave.”

  “—you can find me with Jules and Marcel at Birdine’s apartment.” I explain where to find it above Le Coeur Percé, in the brothel district. The tavern’s name means The Pierced Heart. Damn ironic.

  I step down another rung, and my willpower crumbles. I look at her. Her eyes are wet. Her auburn hair is thick and wild in the humidity. Snakes writhe around her feet, but they don’t dare come too close, like her beauty is untouchable. “I love you, Ailesse.”

  She releases a tight breath. “I love you, too, Bastien.”

  My throat aches. “Goodbye.”

  I descend into the well.

  10

  Ailesse

  EXHAUSTED AND HEARTSORE, I FINALLY reach the third level of Beau Palais and hobble into King Durand’s chambers. But Casimir isn’t here. I sigh. I don’t have the energy to go searching for him. He has to be alive, I tell myself, or else I wouldn’t be. Besides, morning has broken. The vipers are slithering away, fleeing as quickly as they came, and beams of golden sunlight scatter the storm clouds past the windows. It should feel like hope, but it doesn’t.

  I collapse into a chair beside the king’s four-poster bed. His body is no longer here. The servants have already taken him away. I pray his soul finds peace, but then my stomach wrenches. He has no soul.

  I lean forward on the mattress and press the heels of my palms to my watering eyes. I may have saved Cas from the Chained woman and Bastien from the snakes, but the king still died . . . and likely several more people in the castle. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t stayed here as long as I have, if I’d been the one leading my famille. And yet I continue to stay. I have to.

  Again, that awful feeling of being torn in half seizes me. Maybe it’s even my soul ripping apart. Sabine would be able to tell me what’s wrong. She’d say something wise, and then make me laugh. That’s the healing I need.

  Ailesse . . . Ailesse . . .

  Mother?

  Her silky voice calls to me, but it’s muffled like she’s underwater. Have I fallen asleep? I can’t see her, so I move toward the sound. Everything around me is catacombs black, without even moonlight or starlight, until Odiva’s starkly beautiful face appears. She’s wearing all five of her striking grace bones, and her sapphire-blue dress undulates and ripples like the ends of her raven hair. “Ailesse, my firstborn child,” she says, “my fierce and faithful daughter.”

  I’m weightless, though I try to ground myself. I have to be sleeping. This is a dream. My mother never smiled with such affection. She never gave her praise so easily, not to me.

  She reaches out her hand. I reach back, even though I shouldn’t. How is it possible I still want her love?

  Our fingers almost touch when a bird screeches and flies between us. The silver owl. She beats her wings once, and my mother fades. In her place, an unfamiliar crown appears, made of onyx-carved feathers and glimmering rubies. Beau Palais rises behind it, and the crown’s feathers and rubies multiply, staining the castle’s limestone walls black and red.

  “Ailesse . . . Ailesse . . .” It isn’t my mother’s voice anymore. “Ailesse . . .”

  Someone nudges my shoulder. I startle and open my eyes. Casimir’s worried face bends over me. I push back from the king’s bed. Light-headedness grips me. “Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Am I all right?” He laughs, miserable and exasperated. “What were you thinking, running off like that?”

  “I’m . . . sorry.” I’m still reeling from my dream and wondering what it means. It takes me a moment to notice his slightly bloodshot eyes and weary posture. Just a few hours ago, he lost his father in this very room, and then the castle fell under attack. More people died. I can’t fathom what he must be feeling right now.

  I’m about to ask how many casualties there were when he says, “Tonight you called me your amouré.”

  My stomach tenses. I can’t meet his eyes, so I stare down at my hands.

  I feel him studying me. “I’m tired of you pretending you’re a normal girl. I’m more tired of trying so desperately hard to believe it. Nothing about you is ordinary, Ailesse. I’ve known that from the moment I saw you again on that cavern bridge. You and your mother and sister . . . you all had power I didn’t understand.”

  When I remain silent, he continues, “You spoke of Chained souls and Light that could be forever stolen.” His voice catches, and he’s unable to talk for a moment. I glance up and find him gazing at the sunken spot in the bed where his father died. “What does it all mean?” His eyes cut back to me. “Who—what—are you?”

  Part of me wants to tell him. Would the truth be consoling? But I can’t. Casimir is king now. What would he do with his power if he knew I’m one of forty-six women and girls with dangerous bone magic, a famille that lives within the borders of his kingdom? Would he really trust me, a Leurress born and raised to ferry the dead, a girl who must earn that right by sacrificing her amouré—him? He doesn’t even trust me with my grace bones. “I’m a friend,” I say. “I hope I proved that last night.”

  He contemplates me, softly gnawing on the edge of his lower lip. “Yes, you did. And I think it’s time I also proved I’m your friend.” He fidgets with his jeweled ring. “That is, if you can forgive me first.”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “Deceiving you.” He inhales a steadying breath and crosses the room to a mahogany wardrobe. He opens some kind of trick drawer and retrieves a small bundle from within. I stifle a gasp when I realize what it is—a leather coin pouch hanging from a necklace cord. “I never lost your grace bones,” he confesses, walking back to me.

  My heart thunders. I jerk to my feet. My bandaged knee pangs, but I don’t care. I grab the pouch with fumbling fingers and loop the cord over my head. My graces rush into me, a thrilling burst of sensation. I close my eyes and try to soak them all in.

  “What do you feel?” Cas asks tentatively.

  His nearness buzzes along my spine and awakens my tiger shark sixth sense. I’m falcon buoyant and ibex balanced and shark invi
gorated. I’m as I should be, at one with three powerful and incredible animals. “Whole,” I finally answer, and breathe in deeply. Everything is going to be all right now. I’ll be able to protect Cas until the next ferrying night, then I can leave here and be with Sabine and my famille and . . .

  My blood runs cold. “Cas,” I hiss, clutching his arm. “Move behind me. Now.”

  He doesn’t. He draws his dagger and spins around to face the room, ready for any danger. But he doesn’t have my peregrine falcon vision. He can’t see the flare of chazoure five feet in front of him—the soul of a balding man with a gaunt face and crooked back. The man’s expression is solemn, but also severe. I expect to find chains wrapped around him, but none are.

  “Why are you here?” I demand.

  He tilts his head at me, as if he’s surprised I can see him. “Rumor reaches the dead fast,” he rasps, his voice reedy. “King Durand has finally met his death, so I’ve come to take a hard look at his son. See if he’s up for the job.”

  Cas shifts on his feet, startled at the bodiless voice. “Of course I am. I—”

  “Don’t speak to him,” I whisper, and grab my crutch. Chained or Unchained, I have a bad feeling about the man. He was probably one of the dissenters in Dovré when he was alive. “His Royal Majesty needs time alone to pray for divine guidance,” I tell him, remembering what Cas said yesterday: the dissenters believe the recent plague was a sign of the gods’ displeasure with King Durand. I don’t want them thinking Casimir is also out of favor. “Please respect his privacy.”

  Cas and I cautiously advance into the corridor. The gaunt-faced man’s eyes trail our movement. With any luck, he won’t follow us. Once he’s out of sight, I release a pent-up breath.

  “Was that another Chained?” Cas whispers.

  I don’t answer. My mouth goes suddenly dry. Down the corridor, two more souls drift toward us. Four more come from behind. Some wear rich robes. Others are in simple clothing. Heavy chazoure chains hang from three of them. My heart pounds. How many of the dead have been gathering in this castle before I had eyes to see them?