Bone Crier's Dawn

by Kathryn Purdie

  Bastien and I wait outside the library while Cas grabs the books about Belin and Gaëlle. A few of the Unchained start to gather at a distance, watching us and whispering among themselves. Many of them are dead castle guards. I’m about to tell them they should leave when Bastien says, “Have you and Cas . . . ?” He shifts on his feet, scratching his jaw as he studies me. “Do you, you know, fancy him?”

  I almost snort. “Do I fancy him?”

  He grins and shoves my shoulder, like I’ve seen him do with Marcel. “Never mind.”

  Cas returns with a lumpy sack. There must be at least three books inside. He’s also holding two jeweled goblets and a bottle of wine.

  Bastien gives a low whistle. “That’s some library you have here.”

  Cas passes him the wine and goblets. “If you see me back on my throne, I welcome you to visit anytime.”

  Bastien smirks. “Deal.”

  We leave the Unchained souls behind and continue down the corridor, approaching what must be King Durand’s old chambers. Cas explained the castle layout before we set out here. We slow as we near the door. I listen carefully with my graced ears, but hear nothing. The door is ajar, so I creep closer and peer within. My viper heat vision doesn’t capture any living thing, either. The room is empty.

  I nod at Cas and Bastien, and we enter. If Godart and Odiva had been in here, we had a backup plan to plant the poison in the council room—Cas suspected they might go there next—but so far everything is falling into our hands. Please, Elara, keep blessing our luck.

  Cas guides us into a private sitting room that adjoins the bedroom. Two armchairs are drawn near a fireplace, with a small varnished table between them. Cas motions Bastien over quickly. We need to hurry. We only have so much time before my mother senses my presence and comes—which we’re counting on, but we have to be ready first.

  Bastien sets down the goblets on the varnished table and fills them with crimson wine. According to Cas, any servant worth his wages would offer two drinks, knowing the new king’s promised queen would accompany him here.

  Cas gives Bastien the sack of books and pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket. He unwraps it partway, just until he exposes the first glass vial, the one with the poison. It’s a dark and brackish color that makes my stomach turn.

  He struggles to pop off the cork.

  “Let me try,” Bastien says.

  Cas shakes his head. “I almost have it.”

  My jackal ears catch footsteps from the corridor. “Someone’s approaching,” I whisper. “It might be them.”

  Cas continues to wrestle with the vial. Bastien starts pacing. I chew on my lip. Our plan feels more reckless by the minute. What ever made us believe we could pull it off?

  The footsteps are at the bedroom door. The door to this room is just a few feet away from that one, and both doors are open.

  I don’t dare give another warning. My mother has graced ears, too, as well as uncanny instincts when it comes to her daughters. I reach for the vial to open it myself.

  Cas misreads me and hurriedly shoves me the handkerchief to free up his hands. I’m unprepared to take it. I barely grasp a corner of the cloth. The antidote wrapped within slips out. Falls to the stones. Shatters.

  My heart stops. I share a panicked glance with Cas. He’s just uncorked the poison vial. I snatch it from him and mouth, Hide!

  He springs for the curtains at the window opposite the fireplace. Bastien dives behind a large chest in the corner behind the door. I tip the poison into both goblets with shaking hands. This isn’t going to work. My mother will feel Cas’s and Bastien’s presence with her sixth sense. They weren’t supposed to be in the room when she and Godart returned. I wasn’t, either, but at least I have a fighting chance to defend myself.

  I shove the empty vial in my pocket, then step on the crushed glass to hide the useless antidote. That’s all I can do before a large figure appears on the threshold between the rooms, pauses, and slowly walks inside.

  “Hello, daughter,” Godart says.

  31

  Ailesse

  I STAND BETWEEN SABINE AND her father, my hands outstretched in a futile attempt to ward them away from each other. I’ve seen what Godart can do with my mother’s graces. I don’t doubt he’s still able to use them, even though he’s come alone.

  Sabine remains frozen with her foot over the shattered antidote vial, not daring to move. I’m surprised Godart recognized her so quickly in the uniform she’s wearing and with her hair tucked back in a hood. He’s only seen her once before, on the soul bridge.

  “Aren’t you going to greet your father?” He takes two steps into the sitting room, his gait loose and overconfident.

  “Stay back from her!” I say, but he can’t hear me.

  Sabine slowly uncurls her fists. “Forgive me. Good evening, F-father.”

  His eyes sweep over her with mild interest. “What brings you to my castle—and in disguise, no less?”

  From the window where Casimir is hiding, the curtain rustles when Godart says “my castle.” I inwardly plead for Cas to hold still. If Godart attunes himself to the sixth sense he can access, he’ll feel Cas’s presence in the room. Thankfully, Bastien remains motionless behind the chest. Sabine needs to trick Godart into drinking the poison, antidote or not. I’ve followed every step of my friends’ journey here and know the depth of their plan.

  “I had to come in disguise,” Sabine answers. “I’ve invaded Beau Palais once before; the guards know who I am. If they captured me, they would kill me before I had the chance to see you—and I needed to see you. I’m desperate. Ailesse is gone. I have no one else to turn to.”

  My shoulders relax a little. Sabine actually sounds convincing. I’ve underestimated her ability to deceive. Perhaps her golden jackal grace is helping.

  Godart drifts nearer. I step out of the way, even though he wouldn’t feel me if he plowed me over. “You cannot turn to your famille?” His eyes narrow on her.

  Sabine lowers her head. “They’ve banished me.”

  “My daughter, banished?” He frowns, his pride nicked. “Odiva said she named you her heir.”

  Sabine’s mouth struggles into a piteous smile. “She did, but she didn’t tell them she was also my mother. I kept that from them, too.” She sighs. “I’ve kept far too many secrets. And because of that, I’ve lost their trust. There’s nothing I can do to earn it back now.”

  “Women,” Godart scoffs. “At the end of the day, they are pack creatures. Betray one, and you betray them all.”

  Oh, how I hate him.

  Sabine’s eyes spark, enraged, but she glances away before he can see her reaction.

  “There is only one exceptional female,” Godart says, “and she puts all others to shame. You are fortunate to share her blood.”

  Sabine lifts her chin. “I hope one day I can say I’m fortunate to share your blood, too.”

  He cocks a brow. “One day?”

  “I’ll have to forgive you first.” She takes no pains to mask her anger this time, but she’s swift to channel it into sorrow that cracks her voice when she adds, “You’re here because Ailesse is gone forever.”

  “Oh, Sabine,” I whisper, and place a hand on her shoulder.

  Her lips part, and her eyes dart around the room. I stiffen. Did she hear me?

  Another person walks through the doorway. I expect it to be my mother, but it’s another man, one who carries a blacksmith’s hammer. No one sees him but me.

  I step back from Sabine and hold up my hands. “I didn’t save her, Forgeron. I only said her name.”

  His face is as hard as the chain link he gave me when I helped Cas escape. “Did you remember nothing Estelle told you?”

  I don’t understand what he means at first, but then my breath catches. Names are the song of the soul, Estelle said. They hold Elara’s Light.

  Is that how Sabine heard me when I said her name? Through Light?

  It doesn’t make sense. I’ve said her name
before in the Miroir. Cas’s and Bastien’s, too. None of them heard me until now.

  Godart grows quiet as he contemplates Sabine, the daughter he never had the chance to raise. No father of a Leurress ever did. “You are my heir as much as your mother’s,” he finally says. “Such a union could only create a child with wondrous potential. If you are willing, Sabine—if you show the strength of your bloodline and let the past be forgotten—I will teach you to be indomitable. You will not mourn your life or who you knew at Château Creux. Surely that is why you came here.” His eyes, so like hers, drop to her grace bone necklace, and he inches another step closer. “You will be welcomed into a new family.”

  Sabine bites her lip, considering his offer.

  I sneak a glance at Forgeron. He hasn’t left yet. He slowly paces at the edge of the room.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Sabine asks.

  “Is not the promise of a great king honorable?”

  “Perhaps.” She lifts a shoulder. “But when a Leurress makes a pact, she seals it in blood.”

  Godart gives her a cool grin. “You already have my blood, daughter.”

  “True.” She purses her lips, and her gaze falls on the goblets. Perspiration glistens on her brow as she picks one up and offers it to her father. “Will you drink to give me your word?”

  I smile at her cleverness.

  Godart laughs, both wry and cunning. He doesn’t take the goblet from Sabine. He reaches for the other one on the table. As he does, his loose collar droops and reveals a small skull strung on a leather cord around his neck.

  My eyes widen. Sabine’s fire salamander skull.

  I only see it a brief moment before he straightens again, but my keen vision doesn’t miss its dark crimson stains. Sabine’s blood.

  I glance at Forgeron again, and anxiety grips me. He wouldn’t be here unless he thought I’d still intervene. Unless he thought Sabine needed saving.

  I rapidly glance about the room. No Unchained souls are here. No one can warn Sabine of any danger but me. But what danger? What does Godart mean to do?

  He raises his cup to Sabine. She raises hers to him. I stand right beside her, watching her every move with the sharpness of my falcon vision. She won’t drink the poison, I tell myself. She’ll only bring the rim of the goblet to her lips. She’ll wait for him to drink first.

  My sixth sense shudders up my spine. Forgeron paces closer. “Stay back,” I tell him. “I’ve done nothing.”

  Godart brings his cup near his mouth and pauses. Sabine does the same, stalling for him.

  I don’t move a muscle. Drink the poison, Godart!

  Forgeron stares at the king’s lower back and frowns. I step around Godart, just in time to see him slip out a knife tucked in his waistband. I gasp. “Sabine, run!”

  She presses the goblet to her lips. She can’t hear me.

  “We warned you, girl,” Forgeron growls at me.

  I ignore him. He can’t chain me. Not yet. “Sabine, listen to me,” I say frantically. “It’s Ailesse. Your father is trying to kill you.”

  Godart’s goblet hovers at the edge of his mouth. He inches the knife around his body.

  “Sabine!” My shout echoes through the Miroir.

  She tips her cup higher. The wine swirls against her pressed lips.

  “Careful!” I clutch her arm, but she doesn’t feel me. Cas warned her how potent that poison is.

  Godart drops his goblet. His knife whips out with eagle owl speed.

  “SABINE!”

  Her eyes bulge. She sees the knife. It slashes for her throat. She sucks in a sharp breath. The wine spills into her mouth.

  “No!” I cry, as she knocks his knife away with her cup. She’s almost as fast as he is.

  He lunges for her neck again, this time with his bare hands. She chokes on the wine and struggles to fend him away. He drives her back against one of the armchairs. She coughs. Gags. She’s forced to swallow.

  Merde, merde, merde. There’s no antidote left.

  Godart’s fingers tangle around her grace bone necklace. He pulls on the golden jackal bone.

  My sixth sense drums. Bastien bursts out from behind the chest, his knife raised. Cas emerges from the curtains, dagger in hand. They converge on Godart.

  Godart lets go of the grace bone, dodges Bastien’s strike, and kicks him hard in the stomach. Bastien is thrown back as Godart swings for Cas—but not before Cas’s dagger slices into Godart’s side. He hisses, clutching the wound, but then slowly grins, staring down Cas. He’ll heal, I realize. He has Sabine’s salamander skull.

  I go rigid as a new understanding hits me. Sabine doesn’t need an antidote. She just needs the skull back.

  She crumples to the floor. Her body starts to seize.

  Cas’s eyes flood with concern. He can’t get to her. Godart is prowling around him, goading him to attack again.

  I rush over to Bastien. He’s wheezing and doubled over. “I need your help, Bastien!” I kneel beside him. Forgeron frowns when I use his name, but I don’t care if he chains me a second time. I can’t let Sabine die.

  Bastien makes no sign of hearing me. Sabine moans and writhes. Cas swipes his dagger at Godart, but Godart easily sidesteps him. He laughs past a grimace. “Did you come here to die, boy?”

  “Bastien!” I grab his arm, but can’t move him. Think, Ailesse. How did Sabine hear me when I said her name? I wasn’t panicked or desperate. I was calm and focused. I thought of her with love, as a true sister.

  I close my eyes, shutting out the noise of Godart taunting Cas, and Sabine struggling to breathe. I think of Bastien when he asked me to dance under the moonlit dome, when he first looked at me with forgiveness, when he spoke of his father, when he gave me space when I needed it. I have to close that space now to reach him.

  Let go, I tell myself. I imagine, for just a moment, the burden I carry as my mother’s firstborn daughter falling away from me, like my heavy dress fell away and sank into the depths of the river. I imagine making a different choice than being matrone—endless choices, really—and Bastien is one of them.

  I open my eyes. Bring my mouth closer. My lips brush his ear. “Bastien,” I whisper, using his name to reach his soul, his Light.

  His brows jerk together. “Ailesse?”

  Forgeron steps closer.

  I swallow and refocus, speaking quickly. “Godart is wearing Sabine’s salamander skull on a necklace. She needs it to heal.”

  Bastien blinks. Turns to the king.

  “Take it,” I say. “Hurry!”

  He rises, still short of breath, and tightens his grip on his knife. His eyes shift in my direction, though he can’t see me, and he squares his jaw. Catlike, he sneaks toward Godart while the king’s back is turned.

  I stand to follow him, but Forgeron blocks me. His orvande face is stern and unrelenting. “That was foolish.”

  I jut up my chin. “Perhaps it was brave.” I startle when he grabs my right wrist. “What are you doing? Sabine isn’t saved yet.”

  “It does not matter. You used Light. You pierced the barrier of the Miroir, and you did so with the intention to save. The punishment is the same.”

  He lets go of me, leaving me with another orvande cuff, then turns away, eyes pained.

  I swallow hard and hasten over to Sabine. I can’t think about my chains now. Sabine is thrashing on the floor and choking for breath. Her hood has fallen back. I vainly try to smooth her sweat-damp curls off her brow. “Hold on,” I say, and glance at Bastien. “Hurry!”

  He’s advancing on Godart from behind and searching for his necklace cord, but the collar at Godart’s nape is too high. Cas doesn’t make eye contact with Bastien, but the two boys approach the king in rhythm. They’re coordinating their attack.

  “Did you really return from the dead to rule such a small kingdom?” Cas asks Godart, laboring to keep him distracted. Sabine’s writhing must be the only reason Godart can’t feel Bastien, like I do with my sixth sense. “With Odiva at you
r side, you could conquer lands greater than South Galle.”

  “Universal dominion must begin somewhere.” Godart gives an easy shrug. “Other kingdoms can be conquered in time. And time is the luxury of the gods.”

  I finally understand my mother’s lasting interest in being Godart’s queen. Yes, she loves him, but it’s more than that. She believes they can rule the known world together. That must hold more allure for her than governing the small number of Leurress in our famille.

  Cas shifts nearer with his dagger, lightly bouncing on his feet. “Did you just compare yourself to the gods?” he asks Godart. “You may have been resurrected, but you can still bleed.” He nods at the oozing cut on the king’s side.

  Godart smirks. “For now. When Paradise is empty, it will be another story.”

  Paradise, empty? What is he talking about?

  My sixth sense pounds harder. I stiffen. Someone else is coming.

  Cas slashes for Godart. When Godart moves to dodge the dagger, Bastien wraps him in a choke hold and tears open the front of his shirt with his knife.

  “Godart!” My mother storms into the room. “What is ha—?” She freezes. Bastien’s blade is under the necklace cord that holds the fire salamander skull. Godart holds perfectly still, no arrogance left in his expression. Blood trickles down his throat.

  Why doesn’t he use his graced strength to knock Bastien away? He’d only lose his ability to heal.

  “Bastien . . .” My mother speaks slowly and with forced calm. “Step away from your king.”

  “He’s no king of mine,” Bastien spits.

  Her black eyes narrow. A bone knife slides into her hand from her sleeve. “If you wish to live, you will do as I say.”

  “You’re in no position to threaten me.”

  Sabine’s back arches. Veins bulge at her temples. She kicks and whimpers.

  Odiva belatedly notices her. Her bloodred lips pale. “What is wrong with my daughter?”

  Cas is the only one who dares to move. He hurries over to Sabine and kneels beside her. I’m across from him on her other side. “She drank poison meant for Godart,” Cas answers. Godart’s brow twitches. “The antidote was destroyed,” he adds, voice trembling. He turns to Bastien. “We have to get her back to Birdine,” he says under his breath.