Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(56)
Author: Alexandra Bracken
Bedivere’s face tightened with what might have been a hint of annoyance—there and gone. He turned to Caitriona. “Shall we?”
“Yes, of course.” She cast a quick, assessing look our way. “Have any of you trained with a blade?”
Emrys’s hand went up. Both Cabell and I turned to stare at him.
“Put your hand down, man,” Cabell told him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I saw you almost knock yourself out messing around with Librarian’s mop two weeks ago.”
“Well, that’s hardly his fault,” I said. “That was probably the first time he’d ever seen one.”
“I’ve taken fencing lessons since I was seven,” Emrys said, ignoring us both. “That does use a thinner blade, though.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he had.
“It’ll be a different weight and balance than you’re accustomed to,” Bedivere warned.
“I’ll manage,” Emrys said.
The old knight went to retrieve a long sword from the rack, passing it to Emrys by the scabbard. Caitriona looped it over his shoulder so it rested against his back. I’d somehow forgotten he was left-handed until he reached back to test the distance to the sword’s hilt.
“I have some limited experience stabbing and bludgeoning things,” Cabell offered, and was given a mace.
I took a small dagger and removed my jacket so Caitriona could place a thin mail shirt over my tunic. The others did the same.
I eyed my white horse and her impressive saddle, trying to steady my heart before it could start its own gallop.
Emrys leaned close to my ear. “Need a boost up?”
I knew he was needling me. All I needed to say was that I’d ride with Cabell—in fact, Cabell was looking at me, as if waiting for it, one brow arching higher with each moment I kept my mouth shut.
I wasn’t going to let Emrys find the ring, and I wasn’t about to let him win this little battle, either.
With a noise of disgust, I swung myself up into the saddle on one stirrup. Emrys climbed up behind me with annoying ease. I drove my elbows back as I took the reins, trying to wedge some space between us.
Instantly, I regretted my decision. He was inescapable—the press of his hard chest against my back, how his thighs braced against mine. His breath was soft as it fanned my hair, and despite the heat of him and the animal beneath us, a shiver danced down my spine, sparking against all those places where his bigger body fit itself to mine.
“Want to make bets on how long it’ll take for me to fall off the back of this beauty?” he whispered.
“No, because I’ll just push you off myself,” I told him.
His chest rumbled against my back with a laugh. A tentative hand ghosted along my hip, silently asking.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “But don’t get any ideas.”
The muscles of my stomach jumped and tightened beneath the layers of cloth and cold chain mail as his long fingers flattened against it. I looked down, taking in the raised edge of the scar that ran over his wrist to the back of his hand.
Emrys leaned forward until I could feel his heart pounding against my back—somehow faster than even my own. The smell of him enveloped me, driving out the decaying world around us for a single moment. Pine and the breath of the sea filled my lungs.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured close to my ear.
We rode in silence, following Caitriona along a well-trodden path through the blistered bodies of the trees.
The carpet of decay—blackened leaves, animal carcasses, withered moss—dampened the clip-clopping of the horses. I kept my eyes on the trees and jagged rocks. There were far too many places for the Children to hide, folding their spidery bodies into crevices or retreating into the impenetrable darkness of caves created by the rise and fall of the rugged land.
I looked up, trying to see the sky through the gnarled branches of the dead trees. I could almost imagine it—how Avalon might resemble Tintagel if it were alive with the glow of green life.
Emrys’s body was rigid behind mine, his fingers unconsciously curling against my stomach as he surveyed the ravaged wilderness.
Less than an hour had passed since we’d left the tower when we entered a different stretch of forest. The trees here were in orderly lines, and the mist draped itself from their naked branches. The sweet rot of fruit assaulted my senses.
“The sacred grove?” I guessed.
I felt, rather than saw, Emrys nod. “Must be.”
A flicker of light caught my attention, and I turned the horse toward it. A fire burned a short distance away, at the head of a narrow watchtower that jutted up from the ground like a crooked finger. In the darkened air, its flames became the only beacon to guide the way.
My heart pounded against my ribs as Caitriona slowed her horse and dismounted, casting a thorough look around before tying it to a post. One by one, we did the same.
Caitriona lifted the heavy latch on the tower’s door. I pushed inside, Cabell close behind.
Dust swirled around us as thick as the mist beyond the stone walls. The grayed light bled in through a small opening in the wall, falling eerily on the still scene within.
A tattered sleeping bag. An unlit lantern. A rumpled candy wrapper.
The skeletal remains of a man sinking into the grasping earth.
The others blurred at the edge of my vision, becoming shadows. Unspent breath burned in my lungs. I couldn’t release it. I didn’t dare move and disturb the dust swirling around us. To shatter the strange dream that had me in its snare.
“We call him the Stranger,” came Caitriona’s voice from behind us. “For he never had a name or face to us. We did not bury him, in the hope his kin would come.”
Something heavy thumped to the ground. Cabell’s dark form moved slowly, so slowly, to kneel beside the remains.
Look, I told myself, fighting the need to turn away. You have to look.
“—this your idea of a cruel joke?” Emrys was saying. His harsh voice grated in the stillness of the watchtower. “You couldn’t have given them any kind of warning? It might not even be him—how can you be sure this isn’t someone born of Avalon?”