Ailesse gasps and yanks her knife up to throw it. The owl zooms northward.
“No, wait!” she cries. She steps back to take aim.
A section of the rotted wood breaks away.
“Ailesse!” I can’t catch her in time.
She plummets through the bridge.
I hear her crash into the river. “Ailesse!” I shout again. I hurry to the edge of the hole. My heart pounds. She’ll be fine, I tell myself. She has the grace of a tiger shark.
Her head emerges. She coughs and struggles to tread water. Merde, it’s the dress Casimir gave her. It’s pulling her down.
I throw off my boots and shirt and dive in after her. A shock of cold hits me. I surface and shake the wet hair from my eyes. Ailesse is seven feet away and fighting with graced strength to swim to the bank. The nearest side is a twenty-yard distance.
In three strokes, I’m right beside her. I wrap my arm beneath hers and kick hard. She’s kicking, too, but with only one leg, and it’s tangled in her skirt. Both our heads drag beneath the surface. We work together and push up again. “Your dress is too heavy,” I sputter. “We need to unlace it.”
“I can make it.” She clenches her jaw. “I’m strong enough.”
She could, I realize. She’d find a way to do it on her own. “I know you’re strong enough.” My teeth chatter. “But is it really worth the struggle?”
Her brows hitch inward. She blinks water from her lashes and fights to stay afloat. Her crutch bobs away toward the bank. She finally nods and swallows. “I’ll take it off.”
I reach around her to help with the laces. She pushes away. “I’ve got it, Bastien.”
She tears off her long sleeves. Rips apart the seams along her torso. The top of her dress falls away over a strapless bodice. She spins the skirt of her dress so the laces are in front. She yanks them loose. The skirt slides off her chemise and sinks into the river.
She paddles against the current. Fastens her gaze below, searching. Her expression is hard. “I dropped the bone knife.”
I kick to pull my mouth above the surface. “Ailesse. Please, don’t.”
Her nostrils flare. She slowly lifts her eyes to mine.
“Let it go. The knife, being matrone . . . let it all go.”
Her soaked hair clings to her shoulders and fans wide in the water. “No.”
She dives below the surface, right into the path of a swift current. Merde.
I dive right after her without thinking. The current is too strong. It hurtles me deeper downriver. I kick and struggle. It’s no use. I can’t pull free. My chest burns. Head throbs. I desperately need to breathe. If this is how I die, I’ll be furious. I’ll fight any Ferrier who dares to drag me to the Beyond.
An arm wraps around my chest. I’m jerked from the current. The last of my air leaves my lungs in a flash of bubbles. I’m hauled upward. Blackness crowds my vision. I’m on the verge of passing out.
My head breaks the surface. I suck in a ragged breath. Cough up the water I just inhaled. Dimly, I realize Ailesse has saved me. It’s her body I feel behind mine.
She swims me to the bank, where her crutch is floating. I regain my strength by the time we reach a patch of reeds. I clutch a fistful to anchor myself and turn to Ailesse, panting. Her eyes are wide with worry. Her bone knife is between her teeth. She pulls it away and kicks close, pressing herself flush to my bare chest. One of her hands slips behind my head. Her eyes drop to my lips. She kisses me hard, her mouth wet from the river. Her fingers claw into my hair. Her good leg wraps around my waist.
My pulse races. Heat blazes deep inside me. Even then, I’m so shocked it takes me a moment to bring my stunned arms around her. Just as I do, she pushes away and drops her head. Her breaths come in quick gasps. I’m completely thrown off and have no idea what I’ve done wrong.
Her eyes are red when she finally meets my gaze again. “You’re right, Bastien,” she says. “I do need to choose the next move in my life, not anyone else.” She exhales slowly and swallows hard. “And I think you and I should be nothing more than friends.”
17
Sabine
I’VE BECOME A HISSED RUMOR among the soldiers who patrol Dovré’s city wall. L’esprit en blanc, they call me. The spirit in white. Twelve days have passed since I left Château Creux, and the soldiers have learned to fear me, not fight me. I dodge their arrows with ease. I even caught one by the shaft as it shot at me. Last night, when I circled the city from the surrounding forest, one man saw my face and whispered to his captain, calling me by a new name. Gardienne d’âmes. Keeper of souls.
They think I’m trapping the ghosts here, that I’ve been sent by the gods to punish the people with a second plague. Some, like King Durand, have already died. South Galle is cursed, they say, and many blame the Trencavel dynasty. One thing is true, though: it’s my fault the Chained are still here.
Thunder crackles, and a flare of chazoure crests the wall. A Chained peeks down and crawls over the wall like a spider. I steady my feet on the wet forest mulch and hold my staff ready. It isn’t my usual staff, carved with woodland animals, sea creatures, and phases of the moon. I fled Château Creux too quickly to grab that. This is a simple staff I fashioned from a sturdy branch. Just as effective.
The Chained—a man, sinewy and tall—bounds for me through the slanting sheets of rain. I always draw a soul out if I linger near the city long enough. The siren song hasn’t lost all its power, and I was the one who last played it.
The Chained jumps past the tree line and snarls at me. Lightning flashes behind him. “You squandered your chance to send me to Hell, Bone Crier. Stop trying.”
I brush my dripping curls off my brow and lift my chin. The man sucks in a startled breath. His chazoure eyes clap on the crescent-moon pendant dangling from my antler crown. I’m not sure whether the Chained knows the pendant was carved from the bone of a golden jackal, but he senses the threat of Tyrus through me. I will bring him eternal suffering for the wicked life he led.
He turns and dashes back for the city. I chase after him, my feet splashing through puddles and mud. He climbs up the wall, but I leap like the red stag and knock him down with my staff. “I haven’t squandered my chance,” I sneer. The golden jackal in me wishes I could make him bleed, but I fight the bloodlust. “I’ll call you again with my song, and you will meet your master.”
The Chained shudders and tries to bolt. I jump over him, nighthawk high, and block his path. He races around me, but I shove him back. I prod him deeper into the forest, working fast despite the mud and downpour, and guide him toward his temporary prison. The busier I keep myself, the more my mind stays quiet. But as the days have crept closer to the full moon, it’s becoming harder to shut out the images and voices inside me. . . .
Hyacinthe’s bleeding neck. Pernelle’s accusing eyes. Roxane’s words. We have declared you unfit to rule our famille, Sabine. Then Ailesse, as she was in my vision, obstinately walking toward the Gates of the Underworld. My mother cautioning me about the jackal, Beware his cunning. He will bury you, daughter. Last of all, me—dead—in the jackal’s grave. Me, with his yellow eyes and knifelike teeth.
I cry out with frustration and battle the Chained toward the trap I’ve made—a deep hole in the ground, cloaked by a covering of woven sticks and brambles. What’s the matter with me? I thought I’d been doing better lately.
Will I ever master this grace?
The man lands a punch in my stomach. I stumble and gasp for breath. “Back the way you came, monster,” I growl, and quickly prod him toward the trap again.
“Monster?” He winces as my staff thuds his chest. “You’re the worst of us. You have Hell written all over you.”
His jab strikes hard. I shouldn’t emanate the Underworld. The Leurress are destined to dwell in Paradise. We’re supposed to be filled with the greatest portions of Elara’s Light.
Don’t listen to him, Sabine. My staff whirls and lashes across his arm. He backtracks, and I keep striki
ng, kicking, desperately trying to rein in my mind. Be rational. Challenge your doubts. It’s not too late to regain my famille’s trust. Hyacinthe survived. I caught word of it myself. I snuck back the day after I hurt her and spied on Château Creux. I stayed until I was reassured that the eldest Leurress was recovering well.
I’ve also spied on people in Dovré. I learned Bastien escaped Beau Palais the night I sent the meadow vipers, and a beautiful girl dressed like a princess was seen wandering the city the next day. Which means Ailesse is also free, although I don’t know where she’s gone. Birdine’s apartment has been empty for days, and Ailesse hasn’t returned to Château Creux.
I’m frantic to find her. The moon is full tonight. At midnight, ferrying will be possible again. But I’m scared to attempt it without warning her. It would be just like Ailesse to show up out of nowhere and interfere. I can’t let that happen. Not when Odiva wants to trick my sister into setting her free.
The man and I reach my trap. Moans and shrieks rage from within. So far, I’ve caught sixteen Chained here, but last time I checked, only eleven remained. The mystery isn’t unprecedented. My famille also had trouble keeping the dead trapped when they were loose before. The only way to be truly rid of them is to ferry them.
I quickly roll away the heavy stones that secure the bramble covering of my trap, all the while using my staff to keep the Chained man corralled nearby.
I remove the last stone, kick off the covering, and swing my staff to knock the Chained man inside. But just as I do, my foot slips on the muddy ground. I crash to my knees and lose hold of my weapon.
The man jerks it away, scrambles around me, and slams it into my back. I grunt and fall forward on my hands. My fingertips land an inch away from the open hole. I glimpse the thrashing souls within—ten now. Their chazoure eyes are wild. They claw at the earthen walls, desperately trying to escape.
I hurriedly scoot back. Push up to my feet. Whirl around to fight the man.
He’s too close. No time to dodge him. He’s going to ram me into the pit.
I dig in my feet. Reach to grab the staff’s other end. Pray I have the strength to shove him off course.
He’s thrown sideways ten feet. I gasp, watching him tumble across the wet grass. I never even touched him.
Dazed, I look in the other direction. Then freeze. My heart leaps in my throat. “Ailesse.”
She’s using a crutch but also racing for the Chained man. She plucks up the staff he dropped, yanks him to his feet, and roughly prods him toward the pit. Once he’s at its edge, she shoves him hard. He cries out, arms flailing, and plunges into my trap.
I rush to replace the bramble covering and anchoring stones. Ailesse quickly helps, rolling two rocks back into place while I roll the other two. We finish at the same time. Look up at each other. My eyes grow hot. I can’t believe she’s really with me. I burst into tears.
Her hand flies to her chest. “Oh, Sabine.”
The rain softens to a drizzle as we rise and stumble toward one another. We fall on each other’s shoulders, weeping. I clutch her tightly and cry harder, hiccupping when I breathe. She snorts, laughing at me through her sobs. I smack her arm, and she smacks me back. The next thing I know, we’re both giggling and sobbing, and it’s the most ridiculous and perfect moment . . . and oh, how I’ve missed my best friend.
She finally pulls back and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Where in the world have you been?” She shakes me by the shoulders. “I’ve been looking everywhere for days.”
“What do you mean? You’re the one who’s gone missing. Why haven’t you returned home?” I’ve snuck back to check for her.
“I could ask you the same thing. Our whole famille has been searching for you.”
“Wait, you’ve been with the famille?”
“Not exactly. I did return home . . . almost. I came upon Felise and Lisette just outside Château Creux. They didn’t sense me, of course. But I overheard them speaking.”
I picture the younger girls, who have yet to obtain graces. “And?”
Beneath the folds of her loosely tied cloak, Ailesse fidgets with the laces of her burgundy bodice. It isn’t Leurress-made. Neither is her creamy blouse or simple blue skirt. It’s strange to see how well suited they all are to her. She tilts her head. “Did you really hurt Hyacinthe?” she asks gently. “Is that why you ran away?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “That was an accident.”
“Of course it was.” Her gaze flickers to my golden jackal pendant. “Why don’t you go back, then? You know the elders would never banish you.”
That’s only because they never banish anyone. They wouldn’t want to risk exposing our secret way of life. But they could still punish me, take away my grace bones for a season. I can’t be stripped of my power when the Chained are loose. “I’m just working to prove myself first.”
“Why?” She shifts on her crutch. The movement is awkward, missing her usual agile elegance. “So they’ll let you lead the ferrying again?” Her pensive eyes flash to my antler crown this time.
“Well, yes.” I bite down on my lip. “You have to understand, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever return home . . . no matter how much I desperately wanted you to.”
“I was only waiting to find you first, but I will be coming home.” She sets her jaw. Being held captive twice did little to tame her stubborn streak. “We should return home together,” she amends, giving me another hug. The muscles in her arm are so tense they quiver. Or maybe I’m the one shaking. Am I ready to face my famille or give up my claim as matrone? Roxane can’t rule as regent forever.
“I’d like that,” I say.
Ailesse draws back, and although her smile wavers, it reminds me that my sister is the same person who prepared my salamander skull after I made my first kill and couldn’t stop crying, and who offered me the killing blow to slaughter her tiger shark so I could be the one to claim its graces, even though I declined. No one has ever loved me as much as she has. No one ever will.
“But our mother did name you her heir.” She swallows tightly. “So you will have to decide what that means for you and me.”
My chest constricts. She’s asking if I’ll give her back her birthright or keep it for myself. She would actually let me have it if that’s what I really wanted. Even if it would break her.
I don’t know what to say—I’m too scared to examine what I want that closely—so I squeeze her hand and ask, “Will you walk with me? There’s a stream nearby, and I’m thirsty . . . despite the rain.”
She studies my face and nods, slowly linking arms with me. We leave the howling souls in my trap behind, as well as the question of who should be matrone. The fact that I didn’t answer is answer enough for the time being.
We try to talk of light things, but there are none, so we talk of hard things in a lighter way . . . around little smiles, gentle footsteps, and the small hobbles of her crutch. I explain about the mix-up with the snakes, and she tells me how she still managed to help Bastien escape Beau Palais.
“You didn’t leave with him?” I ask. “Then how are you here?”
“Well, for one thing, I was never locked in a cell. And I stayed to protect Cas from the Chained.” I note how she calls Casimir by his nickname. “There are dissenters among them, and Cas and I found out the hard way that when he has Light stolen from him, I do, too. Before you say anything, don’t worry. I’m fine. We just lost a smidge. But I couldn’t take any more chances, so I had to abduct him from Beau Palais. Thankfully he gave me my grace bones back first.”
I stop walking, dizzy from trying to absorb everything she’s just thrown at me: amourés losing Light simultaneously, dead dissenters after the new king, and Ailesse actually abducting him. “So then Casimir didn’t leave Beau Palais on a mission to find a remedy for the sick people in Dovré?” I ask, then feel compelled to add, “He’s been writing letters to his councillors—I intercepted one from a courier. At least I thought the letters came from Casimir.”
We start walking again. “And what about the public coronation he’s promised as soon as he returns home?” I ask, remembering another line from the letter.
She shrugs lightly. “Well, I’m not going to hold him captive forever.”
For the people’s sake, I hope not. Beau Palais has been draped in gold and green bunting for several days, awaiting Casimir’s return. Meanwhile, only a few sun-symbol flags and banners decorate the thoroughfares of Dovré. Those that do are tattered from the wind and rain. The people are losing faith that anything—or anyone—will be able to help them.
I’ll help them. Tonight.
“No wonder I haven’t been able to find you,” I say. “You’ve been keeping watch on the king.”
“I haven’t had to do it on my own. Don’t forget, I’ve been searching for you, too.” She nudges me. “And since when did you become so difficult to track, anyway?”
“It must be my golden jackal graces.” I wave a dismissing hand, though I stand a little taller. “No one in our famille was able to capture the jackal. I only did because the silver owl forced him right into my path.”
The corners of Ailesse’s mouth tug into a frown. She glances at my crescent pendant again.
We reach the stream. She sets down her crutch and kneels, not too ginger with her broken leg. It must be healing well. We cup our hands in the trickling water. I swallow extra handfuls, drumming up the courage to say what she must hear: “Odiva is alive in the Underworld.”
“We have to ferry tonight,” she blurts at the same time.
I blink. “Yes, I was planning on it.”
“I know about Odiva.” She speaks over me. “Jules told me what you told her. Wait, how were you planning to ferry?”
I shake my head. “You’ve seen Jules?”
“She and Marcel are helping me with Cas. Birdine, too. Do you know Birdine? We’re keeping Cas in a hideout Bastien has below an old church. So Bastien’s helping, too.” Ailesse scratches her arm when she says his name, her cheeks flushed. “How were you planning to ferry?” she presses me. “Not on your own?”
Bone Crier's Dawn Page 13
