Blood Metal Bone: An epic new fantasy novel, perfect for fans of Leigh Bardugo

by Lindsay Cummings

  Thieving times.

  After last night, and what she would face today… Sonara needed a distraction.

  “Blood red is your color,” Jaxon said, stepping up beside Sonara.

  She laced her arm through his, and sighed. “Better than Soreian blue.”

  He chuckled. “Sonara, I…”

  “I don’t want to talk about serious things, Jax,” she interrupted him as they walked. “I can sense the anxiety all over you.”

  “I just want to make sure your mind is clear, before we begin.”

  “It’s clear, Jax.”

  “Is it?” He removed his hat and squeezed the brim, the leather darkened from years of his fingertips worrying at it absentmindedly. “Truly?”

  Sonara’s stomach twisted. He wanted to talk about feelings. Those pesky little beasts that plagued the living, day and night. Didn’t she experience enough of feelings? Her curse lusted after them, a near-constant fight against releasing it so it could devour the auras of everyone who crossed its path.

  It was exhausting, sensing the sadness of others. The euphoria, the anger, the bitter green of jealousy, the delicate rosy sigh of first love.

  But the past ten years had also been taxing in their own right, searching for Soahm. For something to tell her where he’d been taken in that ship. And now…

  “What does it taste like?” Jaxon asked. He waved his hand as a bloodfly buzzed past, likely chasing the scent of so many beasts in the distance. “What do you sense?”

  He nodded out at the beautiful chaos all around them. The Wanderer ship with the red bird was nowhere in sight, concealed by the ring of mountains surrounding them. But Sonara swore she could feel its presence, like an almost-imperceptible pulse. Was Soahm inside the ship, returned to Dohrsar once more? Or had they taken him away from this world and left him somewhere else, never to return again?

  It was here. Finally here again, and soon, she would have the truth.

  “It tastes like hope,” Sonara answered Jaxon’s question. He raised a brow, and with a sigh, she added, “It tastes a little like hatred, too.”

  She’d once been lost under the power of that word, in the days after losing her brother. It no longer controlled her like it used to, this hatred for a strange, armored entity that came down from the sky and had its way with him. But it was still there. An old friend, ready to be called upon when she needed it to fuel her.

  “Ah.” Jaxon snapped his fingers at her truth. “There you are. That’s the Sonara I know, never afraid to speak her mind.”

  Those first three words were the very same ones he’d spoken the first time they met. When Sonara had awoken on the sand to find Jaxon kneeling over her, the sunlight like a halo around the fringes of his hat. “There you are, “he’d said with a smile as she came back to consciousness. “Thought you were dead.”

  In her first days as a Shadowblood, unable to return to Soreia for fear of a second death, Sonara had had no choice but to roam endlessly through the Deadlands, as uninhibited as the wind.

  Those days were still muddled. Full of pain and fear and the desire to simply give up. She’d gone nearly three days without water when he’d found her. They’d stayed together for a time, first only as comrades who agreed to help each other in a job.

  But Sonara found that the more time she spent with Jaxon… the more he began to remind her of Soahm. Not in every way, but in the ones that mattered; in the ways that eased her conscience when she thought of her brother and remembered him screaming her name in the dark.

  Jaxon was someone else to share knowledge with, to tease and laugh with and relent when she forced him to give over his blanket on the coldest Deadlands nights. He was someone to feel the hot blaze of competition with, on days when they both needed the extra push to keep going.

  He’d saved her second life, literally, by simply offering to share his water skin. First it was the fear of being alone, of having no one besides their beasts, that first brought Sonara and Jaxon together. But it was their friendship, forged in the fires of life as outlaws and outcasts, that had made them an inseparable pair.

  They’d become blood-bonded, with the slash of a blade, their palms pressed together. A pact, a promise sworn with the shadowy tendrils of their blood, to always look out for one another. Comrades in arms and in life.

  She wouldn’t make the same mistake with Jaxon that she’d made with Soahm.

  She wouldn’t lose him, too.

  “I’m going to get my answers tonight,” Sonara said now. Not far away, a troupe of musicians began playing a joyful tune. The people around them began to shift and move. In the distance, the single entrance to the Garden still flowed with caravans arriving. “I’ll do the job. I’ll be present, I swear. But when I get my chance…”

  “You’re going to take it,” Jaxon said. “What are you going to do?”

  “Find my answers. Even if they’re on board the ship.”

  Surprise filled Jaxon’s tone. “You’re going to sneak onto a Wanderer ship?”

  She smiled. “It’s not as if they’re going to invite me aboard. Though I can be convincing enough, should the need arise.”

  He frowned. “They’re dangerous, Sonara. Creatures from another world. There’s so little we know about them.”

  “They could say the same about us,” Sonara said. She patted Lazaris on her hip. Its pommel was cold and solid. The sharpened blade, ready to strike.

  He nodded. “Yes, but… there are too many variables. And are you prepared for what’s to come, if there aren’t any answers to find? It’s been ten years. Years. He’s not going to be sitting on the ship, waiting for you to rescue him with open arms, and—”

  His voice trailed off.

  His aura instantly flared with regret.

  “I’m not a fool, Jax,” Sonara said. She narrowed her eyes as she caught a child eavesdropping at the edge of a tent. “I know the odds. But I also know the odds of that ship having returned. I don’t believe in fate. But perhaps I should. My entire second life has been leading to this moment. To finding my brother and bringing him home. You won’t talk me out of it. You won’t stop me.”

  “No, I won’t,” Jaxon said with a sigh. “But at least I can try. And I can be there with you, when the timing is right.”

  Duran whinnied suddenly, high and loud, as he caught a view of Sonara through the crowd. She smiled, for his call echoed across the Garden, audible even over the music.

  “It’s my mission to find Soahm,” Sonara said to Jaxon. “My burden to bear. Not yours, Jax. Focus on the job. The riches and the freedom we’ll gain once we have the Antheon. I’ll handle my brother.”

  Jaxon nodded, his kind eyes watching Duran stare out across the crowd towards Sonara. “Perhaps it’s not my burden to bear. But that’s the thing with family, Sonara. When you love someone… you do whatever it takes to stay by their side.”

  “Collecting yourself a nice purse already?” Markam emerged from the crowd, a drink in his hand.

  The moment between Sonara and Jaxon broke.

  She whirled around and lifted a brow. He hadn’t been there only a second ago, though she sensed the smoky burn of his curse sighing away on the mountain breeze. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a devil.”

  He laughed and put his muscular arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from Jaxon, through the booths and back towards their group.

  Jaxon followed, keeping his distance.

  “The sword,” Sonara said. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where it is, now that we’ve made the journey here?”

  “Dear Sunny, you always did have such a good sense of humor.” Markam laughed. “It’s safe. That’s all you need to know, until we finish the princess’ job.”

  She shook her head and sidestepped a man offering samples of fried mountain beast.

  “So,” Sonara asked, switching the subject as Markam plucked a sample off the tray and popped it into his mouth. Green juice oozed from it as he crunched down and promptly ga
ve a look of instant regret. He spat it out as they kept moving. “What happened between the two of you? You never did tell me.”

  Markam glanced ahead of them, where Azariah was holding up a large black-pearl necklace from Soreia, her smile wide and genuine, sparkling up to her eyes. Thali stood beside her, arms crossed and looking worthy of every strange glance she received as people walked past, keeping their distance.

  “She is beautiful,” Sonara admitted. More beautiful than she’d ever dream of being. A princess, worthy of her title, despite the mark of the chain around her throat.

  Sonara bristled, thinking of her own once-half-title, if she could even call it that.

  “If you must know, Sonara…” Markam sighed as Sonara glanced to him. “She was the target of a high-profile job. I was there, impersonating a palace escort, in hope of gaining her trust and securing access to the royal catacombs, where the king guards the entrance to the diamond mines. I stayed too long, got too close to her, and she discovered the truth about my identity.” He sighed and waved a gloved hand. “The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “History that resulted in a broken man,” Sonara said. “It took you months to return to yourself after her.”

  “Perhaps it was not because of her,” Markam said. His tone softened, and his eyes took on a sheen of sorrow. He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “Perhaps… perhaps it was because I was bedding a Devil.”

  Sonara gasped, then punched him in the arm, earning a satisfying yelp.

  “You are as beastly as you’ve ever been, Markam of Wildeweb. And you don’t deserve her. You never will.”

  But Sonara found herself smiling at him anyway, for she and Markam had always brought out the very worst in each other. The darker sides, that did not mind trading personal jabs even when they stung.

  “When Azariah discovered the truth about me, she nearly had me killed. I had to flee in the night, chased by fifty of Jira’s Diamond Guard. She told me if she ever saw me again, she’d request my head, served to her father’s beasts on a platter. But I fooled her, for too long. Which is why I’m not surprised she came to find me for this job to double cross her father. I am the best in the business.”

  Sonara shrugged. “I’ve known better.”

  “Doubtful.” Markam flicked a coin to a woman selling a leg of mountain lamb, then took the leg and bit into it, groaning softly. “We’ll be done here in no time. Easiest job you’ve ever been handed. That’s a promise.”

  Her stomach rumbled, and she reached out to rip a piece of the meat away.

  “Ah-ah-ah,” Markam said, waggling a finger. “Patience, Sunny. It’s something you’ve never quite learned.”

  “Beast,” Sonara growled. But she smiled as Jaxon slipped up behind him in the crowd, just in time, and plucked the meat from his brother’s hand.

  Jaxon tore into it, then tossed the rest to Sonara.

  She ripped into it, not caring that she probably resembled Razor feeding on a fresh kill. The meat was so good she groaned. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually eaten a full meal that wasn’t rations, let alone taken the time to enjoy one.

  “Shall we, boys?” Sonara asked, as she downed the meat and tossed the bone against Markam’s chest. His lip curled up halfway, his aura surging with hot annoyance.

  Jaxon held out an arm. “We shall.”

  Sonara laced her arm through his, and they set off into the mess of tents and makeshift stalls, like two fine travelers ready to spend their heavy sacks of coin on whatever their hearts desired.

  For a time, they lost themselves in the joy of it.

  The simple motion of making their way across a valley of goods ripe for the taking. Sonara was able to forget the job ahead; and the task ahead, as they awaited the arrival of the Wanderers.

  She and Jaxon had just settled down in the scattering of tents, drinking from full water skins, when the horn sounded.

  Someone was blowing into a giant conch, the sound like a beast bellowing at the edge of its offspring’s grave. She wouldn’t be able to get that sound out of her ears even if she tried. And yet, on instinct, her head tilted towards the sound. Her heartbeat hastened its pace.

  In her mind, she saw Soahm smile. Race you to the sea, he said, and she swore she could feel the ghost of long-gone wind on her face, the splash of distant saltwater against her ankles, hear the bubble of faded laughter as she and Soahm sprinted towards the crashing waves.

  Soon, Sonara, she told herself. Soon, the Wanderers will arrive. And you will get your answers.

  Her blood sang at that fact. Her curse hummed from within.

  She stood and turned towards the entrance to the valley, where through the booths she could just catch a glimpse of the road into the Garden as the Queen of Soreia arrived.

  Salt of the sea; the sprawling Black Waters.

  The aura of a kingdom that was no longer home.

  The flagbearer of Soreia arrived first. She sat astride a glorious black steed, the beast’s tail like a river of shimmering silk. The flagbearer herself was adorned in Soreian armor, made of metallic blue interlocking scales. They were impenetrable to most weapons, almost undulating in the sunlight as they shifted between blue and green.

  The Concher walked beside her, wearing flowing robes in sea green as he announced Soreia’s arrival.

  “Showy as ever,” Jaxon grumbled, and Sonara felt his hand graze her wrist. A gentle touch, enough to show her that she was not alone. “You were never meant for them, Sonara. You’re too wild. Too free.”

  “Too rabid,” Markam added.

  Sonara spat onto his boots.

  Next came the cavalry. Trainers rode alongside, faces that Sonara recognized from her past. Ones that had not tried to stand up for her the day she died.

  She’d deserved it.

  A part of her knew she always had.

  Banishment, a hundred lashings, a full day locked in the stocks that accepted the tides, that turned from dry ground to a neck-deep crashing sea… she could have endured them all.

  Her mother had demanded the Leaping instead.

  Duran lifted his head from a bucket and whinnied a greeting as his kin passed, their hoofbeats like the steady roll of thunder.

  “Traitor,” Sonara murmured to him.

  The steeds were loyal and strong and sturdy, so beautiful it made Sonara’s heart ache. In her mind, she was cast back to Soreia again, polishing their armor in the royal barn, lulled by the smell of sweet grain and fresh hay and fowl chirping in the rafters.

  The steeds were wrapped with custom-fitted armor, sharp twin horns spiraling from their masked foreheads. The warriors on their backs were just as fierce, men and women wearing matching breastplates of blue, their helmets painted with the Soreian sigil.

  Again, Duran whinnied, and Sonara didn’t have the heart to silence him.

  She knew he longed for home, had only left it because his heart was intertwined with hers.

  The conch blew again, three short blasts.

  People began to bow, dropping to a knee as the procession closed in towards Sonara. Others began to toss desert roses into the line of steeds.

  Sonara’s lip curled. From her place at the back of the crowd, she did not bow.

  She would never bow again.

  A mare she’d known well came into view. It had once been Soahm’s favorite. With lethal grace, the pale beast carried Queen Iridis to the front of the pack. Cheers sounded out, more roses tossed at her feet.

  Queen Iridis’ hair was such a deep, beautiful cerulean it rivaled the sea, flowing down her back like ocean waves. She wore fitted blue armor, and atop it, a colorful braided sash, each colored strand signifying how many she had slain in her efforts to become queen as a much younger, fiercer candidate for the crown. It was perched atop her curls, gold with bits of opal on each of its glittering spires.

  Let me go, Sonara’s curse begged her. Let me sense the soul of the wicked queen.

  It hammered against the cage.
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  It bashed and caused Sonara to grit her teeth with the effort to hold it in. But as the queen rode past, her curse won, shoving the cage door wide.

  Pride, sweet but rotten. Fallen petals crushed by a storm.

  Beneath it, the oily metallic tang of someone who had spilled blood.

  “Easy, Sonara,” Jaxon murmured gently, as if he could sense the hatred coming off her in waves. “Remember who you are. What power she no longer holds over you.”

  Sweat began to bead on Sonara’s brow. She rooted herself to the spot, gripping Lazaris like a vice as Queen Iridis turned her gaze to the left.

  She looked right at Sonara with a glare that could stop a heart.

  Looked right through her, the bastard child she’d once sentenced to death.

  “Sonara?”

  Jaxon’s voice drew her back to the present, where she stood with Lazaris still gripped in her fist as the sound seemed to snap back into place. Cheers and laughter and light all around her, but inside…

  The Devil of the Deadlands snarled.

  Soahm’s name for her future had stuck. It had fueled her and given her a reason to become stubborn and deadly and strong. Her heart beat faster, whispering the promise it had held for years as she glared at her mother’s retreating form, remembering the day she and Duran died and came back to life.

  Today was a new day.

  The ship that stole Soahm had returned to Dohrsar. Its riders would soon arrive at the Garden of the Goddess, and Sonara felt, deep in her shadowed blood, that her answers would also come.

  When she found Soahm, she’d ride south with him. Then she’d fight her way through Soreia until Lazaris pierced their mother’s heart. She’d carry on, leaving nothing behind but blood and metal and bone, until Soahm was seated on his rightful throne.

  The life of the Gathering grew with each traveler that arrived. Music whistled across the Garden of the Goddess, laughter and song and stories, and it was that, coupled with time, that allowed Sonara to find the strength to rein herself back in.

  A pull on the threads that made her her, tiny tug after tug, until she wove herself a steady mask to hide behind. Until she could breathe again.