Page 127 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

“Quietly, quietly, I’ll Guide you through shadow

Quietly, quietly I’ll open Death’s door

Quietly, quietly, my star-crossed lover

And there will be peace for you

Water and shore.

And I’ll always love you, forever and more.”

My voice fades, and I bow my head, hands pressed before me, kneeling by the side of his body. The world is nothing but sorrow and regret for so very many heartbeats; in the morning, as he asked me to,I will let him go. But tonight, in these lost, quiet hours, I’ll stay by his side and maybe, if I am wrong about the Silence, then somewhere some echo of his soul will know I didn’t leave him alone. Slowly, painfully, like an old woman, I lay on the cold ground next to his covered body and stare for a long time at the flickering embers in the fire until my eyes grow heavy. Just as they shut, I think I see the faint outline of a curved horn in the shadow of the trees beyond Tahrik’s body, but am lost to sleep before I am sure.

A GHOST AND A GIRL

AXTON

She is still asleep in the light of a cold sky that matches the color of her skin, her eyes. Such a strange little creature to find in the middle of nowhere, more of a sylph than anything human. Made of wind and breath — not someone or something we have space to care for.

Even if her hollow cheeks and red-bruised eyes make me stupid with rations.

Even if her scrubbing at her muddy skin in the river for what felt like hours made me uncomfortable in ways I refuse to study too carefully.

Even if her voice in the night, singing to her fallen…companion…pulled me from my sleep into a curious, waking dream.

No.

She is a feather of a woman. A bird with hollow bones — the thought of her on horseback riding with my people over the miles we need to cover in the next month, before the cold descends and the wild pastures die off…she would never make the journey alive. She barely looks alive now, her skin almost blue in the morning sun. Andblind— she must come from a soft people who would let a sightless child live. It’s a cruelty we would never indulge in; a quick death is farbetter than the slow one the child would have suffered in our lands. Perhaps she wasn’t born lacking vision, had it drain from her eyes too late to address it. She is far from graceful — the number of times she almost fell on the short walk to the river was laughable — but shedidmake it there on her own, so she must havesomeability to survive. Though how someone who speaks in the Common Tongue, not our language, got so close to our lands, and why she’s here — those are answers Ishouldtake from her…those are answers that willbewrenchedfrom her if I bring her with me. The Elders find anything abnormal…distasteful…and do not suffer its presence lightly.

I can’t let her go, not exactly. Too many of my people have seen her, curious questions whistled on the wind throughout the night.Why are we stopping for a girl? Who is she? Where is she from? Why was she bound?There would be no way to keep the story from ears used to finding meaning in the sounds of skittering rats in walls. But if there is a way to leave her behind without it being obvious…Suddenly, and with a speed that startles me, between one breath and the next she is up and standing, hand dropped to her side as though searching for a missing blade, white eyes wide and wild, nostrils flared.

“Peace now, Huldra,” I say quietly, trying to gentle my voice as I would for a spooked horse. “There’s none here who would hurt you.”

“Where…what?” she mumbles, confused, breath fast and shallow, before memory and grief wake in her sleep-clouded mind, and her face crumbles then smooths, all emotion pushed away, hidden so quickly it tells of a lifelong practice. Perhaps her people weren’t as gentle as all that.

“Food first. Questions can follow.” Stoking the fire back to life, I turn and rummage through my pack. We haven’t had much luck hunting, but there’s enough for meals if we’re not careless. Most of my supplies are at the main camp; I didn’t anticipate sleeping away from our encampment last night, so I only have small snacks, easy to eat while traveling.

“Here,” I offer shortly, holding out an oated nut and honey bar. It’s my last, one of my favorites, and I’m suddenly angry at myself. Sharing the one luxury I have with a fragile little snow mouse. Shetries to wave it off, and I shove it in her hands. “Just eat. Stop being obstinate. This is all we have.”

“Oh.” The single word trembles, and she bends her head down, long white neck curved like a bird’s, then takes a miniscule bite, clearly forcing herself to chew. All I want to do is apologize for causing that small, hurt exclamation, for her shaking fingers, for her furrowed brow, and it makes me furious.

“You’ll find the other food less to your liking, I’m sure. This is the best there is; no use holding out for better.” It’s senseless to have her think that there is anything ahead of her but hardship. I won’t willingly make things difficult for her, but I don’t have time or space to make things easier, either. So I try to ignore the sickening lurch in my stomach when she breaks the bar in half, holding some out silently toward me. “Stop trying to feed me, Huldra. I’ve enough.”

The spark of defiance that tightens her jaw at my words is…surprising. And concerningly alluring. “Yousaid this is all we have. If you didn’t lie, then it means we share. So which is it — are you telling the truth? Or are you speaking with a forked tongue?”

Choosing not to answer, I simply reach out and take the offered bar from her hand, pressing my lips together to not respond to the smug look on her face. The hint of fire disappears as quickly as it flared though, and she collapses back into herself as she nibbles on the food.

We eat in silence until she clears her throat; questions obviously fill her mouth, and I roll my eyes silently behind my helmet. “Ask what you want. Loose tongues rarely loosen blades. Though I make no promises.”

“What is it you keep calling me? Huldra?”

The careful way she says it almost makes me smile.Almost. “It’s what I assume you are. You’re clearly not human, so?—”

She reacts like I’ve slapped her, eyes flaring wide, breath stopping, nostrils flaring, and then it’s all gone and she’s empty, empty, empty. “Ah,” is all she says, flat and bland. “I see.”

I don’t know what I’ve said; something in the way she’s erasedherself creates a storm in my chest, and I want to reach out and shake her until she comes back, or feed her sweets until she smiles.

This is why we don’t pick up strays,I remind myself.Less than a day and you’ve changed plans twice. Lose the girl, leave her behind with the body, and let her find her own way.

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