Page 110 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

THAT’S what I sound like to you?

“Something close. Something like, oh,mumble mumble don’t anointme, mumble mumble stop being foolish, mumble mumble make good choices.” I love Lorcan when he’s in this mood.

You’re ridiculous,he replies, tone affronted, and I laugh again. He pauses, then says reluctantly,Youarebeing incautious though.

“Oh, Lorcan,” I groan, eyes still closed. “Really? Not today, please.” He doesn’t answer, and I sigh, mirth fading. “We’re not seriously having this discussion again.”

I’d do anything not to ruin this peace for you, Little Keeper. You get such a scarce amount these days. But we need to talk about this.

“Wedon’t.” And now I’m firm, almost angry, opening my eyes, the little dream of him and me sitting together dissolving in the speckled light of the small clearing.

We do, Wren. We do. Or the time will come and go, and we’ll miss it altogether.

He’s right, I know he’s right, but we’re not there yet.Not yet.

Since the day we were swallowed by the Earth, things have been…strange…with him. When I woke in the tunnels with Rannoch and Tahrik, Lorcan was coated in my blood, bright and crackling with chaotic energy. He was a shout of sound, dragging me from my stupor, and I’d come to consciousness in a rush, cradled in Rannoch’s arms as he moved as quickly as he could through a pressing darkness. One of Rannoch’s hands was wrapped over my own, keeping my crimson fingers clasped tightly, purposefully, over the tangle of Lorcan’s bones. I can tell Lorcan is thinking of the same thing, and our overlapping memories briefly engulf me.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Tahrik is hidden somewhere in the swallowing night, tense and worried. But it’s the fear in Rannoch’s answer that clenches my lungs.

“Just forward, Miller. I don’t know what else to do!” He sounds helpless. “The walls are collapsing behind us. It does no good to stop!”

Stumbling through damp, black hallways made of stone, Rannoch does his best to keep me from scraping the walls, but they curve around us so closely they’re like a second skin. Everything is nebulous; I drift in and out of consciousness, Lorcan pulling me one way, a numb stupor drawing me the other.

“I’ll take her,” Tahrik offers at some point from behind Rannoch, and I feel him tense before reluctantly turning to pass me over.

“Keep her hand on her necklace,” he cautions darkly, and though I can hear Tahrik mutter something in reply, when he holds me, he leaves my hand laying loosely on Lorcan’s bones.

“I mean it, Miller,” Rannoch snaps. “Or I’ll take her and abandon you to yourself in these Godforsaken tunnels.” Tahrik’s fingers flex around mine, and Rannoch turns away. “This way,” he says, and I fade away again.

When I finally woke, Lorcan was…needing. Since the first of the Harvest, an anointing that used to last a month became barely enough for a week, and then five days. Now…it has only been two since I last painted him, and even still I can feel him dimming. Not enough to call for a full anointing, but too much for the little time that has passed.

This can’t go on forever, Wren.He’s reluctant, but more worrying, he’s trying to be comforting, to be gentle with me.

“Unfortunately for you, Protector, you have no say in the matter.” Grim determination darkens every word, and I know he hears it.

Little Keeper,He’s frustrated now, almost angry. I know he feels helpless. I know how it feels to have your will ignored, to be forced into a cage not of your own making, but Ican’tlose him.

My voice is thick with tears when I answer, snapping at him, trying to command him, but there’s too much desperation in my words to take them for anything other than a plea. “No,Lorcan. I’ve told you before. And if you keep fighting me, I’ll slice a line down my spine and sew you into my skin against my own bones.”

There is silence, and more silence.

Alright, Wren,he sighs finally, but I’m not foolish enough to think I’ve won anything.Alright. We’ll go a little while longer. But you cannot bleed for me daily. I don’t think either of us would survive it.

And it might be true, what he’s saying, but it’s not a thought for this moment.Not yet.

“Will you tell me a story?” I ask, feeling drained and hollow where only moments before I was full of laughter. His answer is hesitant, and carves out deeper holes in my chest.

I’m sorry, Little Keeper. I think…I think it best if I preserve my energy.

“Then I’ll tellyouone,” I whisper. He smiles on my skin.

That would be a nice change, you demanding creature,he teases, almost tenderly, and I try to ignore the fear that is pulsing so strongly in my veins that it’s changing the rhythm of my heart.

“Once there was a girl who had a pet bear, and the bear was old, and grouchy, and overbearing…oh, did I mentionold…”

Lorcan’s huff of laughter pulls a shadow of a smile from my trembling lips. Closing my eyes again, I settle back more deeply against the tree.

“The bear was nothing but trouble…”

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