Page 107 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

It would be impossible anyway. Wren’s drinking from a flask now, and the smooth, white column of her throat is a siren’s call. I left her once; I can’t imagine anything short of death would pull me from her a second time, and even then there would be some debate.

BoneKeeper.

“Should we stop here for the night?” I ask as I approach the weary group.

Surprisingly, it’s Tahrik who answers ruefully. “I know it’s for me,Trader. I can go a bit further. You mentioned wanting to get as far as the low boulders in front of the mountains. How far on is that?”

Grimacing, I shake my head. “Too far, Tahrik, but we’ve made better time today. It does no one any good to walk your feet to stumps.”

“A bit further, then, anyway,” he replies, a tired smile on his face. “I’m stronger than I seem.”

For the first time, Wren looks discomforted, as though she’s about to say something, putting me instantly on alert. “What? What’s wrong?” My words come in strange echo; I can’t help but shoot a quick grin at Rannoch whose voice overlapped mine. “Mirror mirror!” I don’t mean to say it, but the patterns of childhood run deep sometimes.

He cocks his head, looking confused. “What?”

“It’s a children’s game in our land.” I’m strangely embarrassed suddenly, rubbing the back of my neck with a hand. “It, ah, when you say a thing at the same time, whoever calls out ‘mirror, mirror’ first wins. The other doesn’t get to speak until you say their name.”

Wren’s lips twitch, her masque slipping, and then fully smiles, dawn breaking across her face in such exquisite light it’s impossible to look anywhere else. “Rannoch can’t…can’tspeaknow? Until you say his name?”

Nodding, I rely as somberly as I’m able, willing to do anything to keep the curl of her mouth. “He can’t. Those are the rules.”

Trying and failing to mimic my serious expression, she turns to Rann, who drinks her in like water, unable to completely bury the longing on his face. “No speaking then. This will be a god-like task for you. Oh! What’s the penalty if he loses?”

“A favor to the winner…” It’s not; there’s no real penalty, just merciless teasing. I think maybe Rannoch knows I’m lying; he levels a dark glance at me, but still doesn’t speak.

Beautifully, unexpectedly, a trill of laughter pours from her, a birdsong, a promise of summer, and I drink it in, smiling from her gift of joy.

“Oh!” she gasps, almost giggling, little chirps of hiccuping sound. “Oh, well. That seems fair! We should respect the customs of your land, Kaden. If he speaks, he’ll owe you a favor.”

Rannoch huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms dramatically with a humor I truly didn’t know the stoic man possessed, and even Tahrik joins in, though he’s interacted with us minimally so far.

“The power you hold now, Kaden. Use it well. You could make him carry your pack for a week.”

“Or do your laundry!”

“Or rub your feet!”

They go back and forth like children, each suggestion more and more outlandish, until, “Or sing to you!”

“It won’t be a favor to hear me sing,” Rannoch warns in a serious tone.

“You broke the mirror! And now I demand a favor. Sing me a song, Councilor!”

Groaning, Rannoch buries his face in his hands, then sits up straight and stares at me, expression hard. “You asked for it.”

Briefly, beside me, I hear Wren whisper to Tahrik, “Have you ever heard him sing?” but his answer is lost in the most ear-shattering noise I have ever heard in my life, somehow toneless and completely dissonant at the same time.

Round the bend, round the bend

First and middle, then the end

Goose and duck, goose and duck

Pick one or you’re out of luck

Fire’s red, fire’s blue

Run the circle, I chooooooose YOU!

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