Silver in the Bone (Silver in the Bone #1)(69)
Author: Alexandra Bracken

 

“Angry toad?” I repeated, mentally comparing my features to the warty little beast that had shown up to collect the Sorceress Grinda’s locket. It was strange to think that had been less than a week ago—the memory felt so distant, it might as well have been a past life.

 

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet one,” Neve said, taking another sip of her wine. “They are very rude.”

 

Her dark eyes were glassy. In fact, she looked incredibly relaxed despite the suspicious stares still fixed on her from all over the room. As she brought the goblet to her lips again, I put a hand over it and gently guided it back down to the table.

 

“Can’t you be happy just this once?” she asked, clutching my arm dramatically. “It won’t kill you. Olwen says a rose hasn’t bloomed in Avalon since the Children appeared. They think it could be a sign the isle is healing.”

 

I almost told her then, but what would I have said—I dreamt it would come?

 

“Even Sir Bedivere seems to think it’s a sign,” Cabell offered.

 

“Not you, too.” I glanced over at Emrys, but he was looking at the rose himself, contemplating it. “Is it still singing?”

 

“Singing?” Neve’s eyes lit up. “What was the song? Did you recognize what it was saying?”

 

He scratched at the stubble along his sharp jawline. My gaze drifted toward his mouth as he spoke. “It was more of a humming, but . . . it’s fading now that they’ve cut it.”

 

Emrys turned toward me, brows raised as he caught me looking. His eyes glittered with recognition that felt instantly dangerous.

 

I flushed, grateful for the hall’s shadows as I threw back the last drops of my shallow pour of wine. The Avalonians around me conversed animatedly, and there was a palpable but almost hesitant sense of ease about them as they started in on the watery broth of barley and dried meat.

 

Everyone had been given a small round of bread that reminded me of a soul cake; the one in front of me was spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, with a star cut into its top. It was the best thing I had eaten in days—and judging by the empty plates around me, the feeling was unanimous. Dilwyn, our elfin cook, beamed with pleasure at the compliments she was receiving.

 

A harpist sat at her instrument beside the Goddess’s image and began to play. After a moment, the other Avalonians sang, too, their voices naturally flowing together in a stream of emotion.

 

 

Born of the spring that ever comes new

 

Born of bright starlight, undying and true

 

Born of the mists, the mountains, the dew

 

Fair isle of her heart, I sing to you

 

As the bud blooms to flower

 

As the moon passes to mark the hour

 

As Lord Death rides upon his cold power

 

So the Goddess built the tower . . .

 

“Is there a moon here?” I whispered to Neve as the song continued. “Or a sun, for that matter?”

 

“I read in one of the library’s books that the sky here is a mirror of our own,” Neve said. “Reflecting the heavens above the land it used to occupy in the mortal world. Though I don’t think they’ve seen any celestial bodies since the Children appeared.”

 

“They haven’t,” Emrys chimed in. “You can feel it in their vegetation and soil. Any sunlight they’re getting is provided by magic, and it’s a pale imitation.”

 

“Oh!” Neve nearly knocked over both of our goblets as she turned to him, her face lit with excitement. “Did you talk to the others more about turning part of the courtyard into a garden? I can help you find mushrooms around the tower—”

 

At the word mushrooms, I turned back to face the statue.

 

The Nine were gathering around the image of the Goddess. They chanted quietly, laying down offerings of herbs and filling the bejeweled chalice that sat near the Goddess’s foot with glowing water from the sacred springs. All were focused on their task, save Caitriona, who was watching us.

 

Not us.

 

Neve.

 

Catching my eye, Caitriona whirled back around, body bracing as if for a strike.

 

“You do seem upset,” Cabell said quietly from my other side. “Everything okay?”

 

I gave him a look. “When was the last time anything was okay?”

 

There weren’t many things I didn’t tell him, but this—whatever this was—felt like more trouble than it was worth.

 

“Just tired.” After glancing around to make sure no one was watching us, I lowered my voice to add, “Emrys thinks he found something and wants us to meet tonight.”

 

Neve had been swaying dreamily in her seat to the ballad, but that caught her attention. “I told Olwen I’d meet her in the library for more research. I’m worried she’ll get suspicious if I back out.”

 

“And I told Bedivere I’d walk the wall with him on tonight’s watch,” Cabell said, his expression all apologies. “You got this one?”

 

If I said no, I knew he’d come with me. I also knew we needed what information we could get out of Bedivere. “Yeah. Of course.”

 

“Let’s catch up in the morning.” Cabell eyed Emrys like a crow did a worm. “Behave.”

 

Emrys ignored him, leaning back around Neve to whisper, “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

 

I raised my goblet, only to remember it was already empty. “Great.”

 

 

 

After the light and song of dinner, the shadowy great hall seemed brooding by contrast. The long tables were barren now and only the candle at the center of the Goddess’s idol was still burning. The white rose, with its creamy petals, beckoned from the heart of her palms.

 

I moved toward it slowly, my hand reaching for the achingly perfect petals. The candle flame shivered, causing the statue to glow as if it were alive.

 

“It’s the Rosa × alba.”

 

Emrys peeled away from the shadows near the hall’s entrance. I jumped, bumping the offering table hard enough to splash myself with the bowl of springwater.

 

“Do you make a habit of lurking, or is it a special thing you save for me?” I hissed.

 

“Only for you, Bird,” he said, slinging his workbag over his shoulder. “Got to say, I didn’t take you for a flower type, but you’ve spent all night watching that rose like it’s about to burst into flames.”