Sabine sniffs and cracks a smile. “Deal.”
We walk into the darkness, our shoulders pressed together. “Let’s pray that Tyrus and Elara send me a ghastly man,” I say. “Then even you won’t regret his death.”
Sabine’s silent laughter shakes me. “Perfect.”
3
Bastien
NINE DAYS UNTIL I KILL her.
I climb into the rafters in the blacksmith’s shop, the best place to practice when Gaspar has spent a late night in the tavern. The old man will be sleeping off his ale for at least another hour.
Nine days.
I steady my feet on a sturdy center beam and throw the hood of my cloak over my eyes. When I meet her, the moon will be full, but the night could be cloudy or rainy. Dovré and the surrounding parts of South Galle can be fickle like that.
I pull two knives from my belt. The first I stole right under Gaspar’s nose as it was cooling from the forge. The second is unremarkable. Cheap. The hilt isn’t balanced with the blade. But the knife was my father’s. I wear it for him. I’ll kill with it for him.
Half-blind, I lunge forward. Dust meets my nostrils as my feet strike the beam. I parry back and forth, my knives slashing the air as I begin my exercises. I’ve done these formations a thousand times, and I’ll do them a thousand more. Being too prepared is impossible. I can’t leave anything to chance. A Bone Crier is unpredictable. I won’t know what animals she’s stolen magic from until I meet her. Even then, I’ll only be guessing. She might have twice my strength, probably more. She could leap right over me and stab me from behind.
I pivot on the beam and adjust my grip on both knives. I throw one after the other, and hear a satisfying thunk, thunk. I race to my target—a vertical crossbeam—and grab the hilts. I don’t withdraw them yet; I use them as handholds and climb to a higher rafter.
I picture a bridge and the girl I’ll kill there. Any Bone Crier will do. They’re all murderers. I’ll take what they stole from me, my father’s life for one of their own.
Nine more days, Bastien. Then my father will be at peace. I’ll be at peace. I can’t imagine the feeling.
I drop to my hands and wrap my legs around the rafter. I swing upside down and tuck into a flip. My hood flies back as I land squarely on the lower beam.
I can surprise a Bone Crier, too.
A steady clap, clap, clap breaks my concentration. Gaspar is early. My muscles tense, but the voice I hear is throaty and female.
“Bravo.” Jules. She leans against the blacksmith’s unlit forge. Her straw-blond hair glows in a dusty beam of light from the open window. She flips a coin on her thumb.
“Is that real gold?” I wipe my wet brow on my sleeve.
“Why don’t you come down here and find out?”
“Why don’t you come up here?” I walk back to my lodged knives. “Unless you’re afraid of heights.” I yank the blades out of the crossbeam and sheathe them.
Jules snorts. “I jumped from the butcher’s roof to steal that goose last week, didn’t I?”
“Was it the dead goose who squealed?”
Jules’s eyes narrow to slits, but she rolls her tongue in her cheek to keep from grinning. “Fine, Bastien. I’ll come up there if you want to play with me.”
Not exactly what I meant.
She saunters to one of the supporting posts, grabs the hooks for Gaspar’s tools, and climbs. Her snug leggings show off the lean muscles of her body. I look away and swallow.
Fool, I chide myself. If I can’t keep my head around Jules, how will I manage being near a Bone Crier? They’re breathtaking and irresistible. Or so the legends say. My one run-in with a woman in white is proof enough. Even though I was terrified—even though I came to hate her—I can’t forget her rare, unsettling beauty.
I sit on the rafter, one knee drawn to my chest while the other leg dangles. Across the beam, Jules pulls herself to her feet. Her chest heaves above her bodice. She’s been lacing it tighter for two months, ever since I put an end to kissing her. “What now?” She rests one hand on her hip, but her legs shake. “Are you going to make me walk over to you?”
When I don’t answer, she bargains, “How about you meet me halfway?”
“Hmm.” I drum my fingers on my chin. “Nah.”
She scoffs and flashes her coin at me. “I was going to share this, but now I think I’ll keep it for myself. Maybe buy a silk dress.”
“Because that comes in handy for a thief.” I can’t imagine Jules in a gown. She’s the only girl in Dovré that dresses the way she does, and if any boy gives her grief about it, she blackens his eye. If he goes a step further and calls her “Julienne,” he’ll walk away doubled over with his hands between his legs. “Come over here.” I beckon with a lazy hand. “The ground is just fifteen feet below. If you fell, what’s the worst that could happen? A cracked skull? Broken neck? A nice chat up here is worth it, don’t you think?”
“I hate you.”
I grin and lean back against the post. “No, you don’t.” Everything between us feels right again. I’m goading her, annoying her, just like old times . . . before I made the mistake of kissing her. Jules and her brother, Marcel, are like family to me. I was wrong to mess with that.
Her braid falls in front of her shoulder as she eyes the ground. “So, is this officially a dare?”
“Sure.”
“What do I get if I make it across?”
“You mean if you live?” I shrug. “I’ll let you keep your coin.”
“It’s mine, anyway.”
“Prove it.”
She takes another glance at the ground and purses her trembling lips. In a knife fight, Jules would best me any day. But everyone has a weakness. She inhales a long breath and shakes out her hands. Her hazel eyes take on the gleam of the Jules I know best. The Jules who will follow me anywhere. She and Marcel will be with me in nine days. Together, we’ll find vengeance. My friends lost their father, too.
I never knew Théo Garnier. I was twelve years old and ready to pickpocket an apothecary when I first heard his name and learned of his fate. I overheard the apothecary speak of a strange illness he’d failed to cure three years earlier. He’d never come across anything so unnatural as the mysterious bone disease. It was the last tragedy Théo was destined to suffer after being abandoned by his wife and then his lover.
Suspicious that a Bone Crier might be involved, I spent the next month tracking what became of Théo’s two children. According to the apothecary, there was no family to take them in. I finally found Jules and Marcel in another district of Dovré, scavenging the streets like me to survive. We pieced together the puzzle of our fathers’ deaths and realized we had a common enemy. Together, we pledged to make the Bone Criers pay for what they took from us.
Jules stows the coin between her teeth and spreads her arms wide. She takes her first step.
My smile fades as I study her technique. “Look ahead, not downward. Focus on the distance in front of you. Find a target there and stay locked on it.” She exhales and does as I say. “Good, now keep your pacing even.”
I didn’t dare Jules just for fun. I’m helping her. If she can rise above her fear of heights, she’ll be unstoppable. She’ll scale the rooftops of Dovré. She’ll leap from one to the next with the ease of an alley cat. The perfect thief.