Page 141 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

“I’ve thought the same. Repeatedly. But her lies have been very clear, thistle bitter. The taste is…unpleasant.”

He nods again, forcibly relaxing his body on the horse. We could be talking about the price of wheat now with how he looks, and I can’t help but feel a bit of hope.He’s trying. He’s learning.“I trust you more than almost anyone, Axton. If she says they are there of their own volition, and you know that as truth, then it is truth. And perhaps her society is different than we know in some way. Even if it is objectionable to us.” He sighs, shrugging, and smiles. Anyone watching would think we were speaking of nothing but the road ahead. “How can I help?”

And that is why I need him as Flank Commander. Because I know, with the offer, he will ride wherever I tell him, even if it is off a cliff. That he trusts me and my judgment. With Teo, I will never have to guard against my back.

“Just watch for me, Teo. Just watch. And listen around the camp. You hear things I don’t, that even Kyla doesn’t hear.”

He snorts in response. “There’s little that Kyla doesn’t hear, BloodLetter. But my eyes and ears are yours in any case.” He focuses in front of us, a ways ahead where the SoulBinder rides next to her guard, and frowns. “This is a dangerous game we’re playing. If she is what you say. And if she isn’t, for whatever reason, then what have we caught in our nets that wears human bones and holds souls inside them?”

“Exactly so, Teo.”

He is quiet for a long, long time, the dust kicking around our horses feet, the noise of the Band around us filling the air, until, “What will the Elders do, Axton? I’m worried for you.”

Sighing deeply, I shake my head and give him an honest answer rather than a calculated one. “I don’t know. I truly don’t know. Bringing a Binder into the Crimson City? Purposefully? It’s a death sentence. But they can’t killme, so what am I risking, and for what reward?”

Teo’s eyes jerk to Kylabet’s distant form, recognizable even though she is far enough away to be featureless. “They would punish you in the easiest way they’d see fit.”

“They would,” I agree calmly, steady voice belying the turbulence in my heart.

“Axton.” He tries to keep judgment from his tone, but fails.

“What risk,” I repeat again, focusing on the Binder, “for what reward, Teo? If you plan only one move ahead, you’ll lose the game every time. What will they grant us if we figure out this puzzle in time? What will they take from us if we don’t?”

Censure is clear in his response. “It’s not worth it.”

Turning to him, I pull my horse to a stop, forcing him to mirror my movements, waiting until he is completely focused on me. “This is why I’m Commander, Rider, and you are not. Because at the end of the day, I see the final move on the board and am willing to do what it takes to get there. If you are not, you will never win. And if you think Kylabet would make a different choice, then you are wrong.” Teo tilts his head, eyes locked on the bone sockets surrounding my own, not speaking. I refuse to break the silent standoff, until finally he drops his gaze, shrugging.

Turning my horse from him, I kick it into a trot, leaving Teo at a standstill behind me. And ignore it when he calls quietly after me, “I’ll give you my ears and my eyes to help you make decisions, BloodLetter, but I’d rather give you a heart.”

It’s only unfortunate that there is no space in my chest for one.

MAKING CAMP

WREN

The traveling band around me spend so much of their time chirping and almost singing to each other that it makes it difficult to be miserable, even while surrounded by people who clearly resent my presence. Hatred sounds different when whistled on the wind, and while it’s obvious from their expressions that I’m not welcome, it’s easier to disregard musical insults. No one meets my eyes though, and I’ve learned to stare over their heads at the horizon, or just at the neck of my horse. It’s one thing to ignore hostility, it’s another to provoke it. I am in a cushioned cage at the moment, and am very certain that if I press at the bars, any comfort, however false, will disappear.

Sighing, I glance quickly at the man beside me, close enough to run a sword through me should I try to bolt, far enough that I can’t reach him without being obvious. This morning’s escort is not one I’ve had before — his posture is too stiff in the saddle. I don’t know what any of them look like — any Rider assigned to me always wears a bone helmet, hiding their individual faces as though the ivory masques will protect them from my soul stealing eyes, but I’ve learned some of their ways. Certain guards have relaxed slightly around me — never friendly, that would be a bridge too far — but less wary. Today’sdeer-faced Rider is tense, however, studiously ignoring my presence while being overly alert at the same time. It’s almost funny, every little twitch of my fingers causes my current guard’s hands to flex on his reins, his horse chomping on the bit in annoyance with each tightening and releasing.

“Rider, you’re dismissed.” The cool voice behind me has the man knife-straight in an instant, as though he were not already before.

“Commander?” He sounds wary, worried that he’s done something wrong.

“FlankCommander,” Kylabet replies smoothly, and moves her horse up beside me. “The BloodLetter has asked me to have a…conversation…with our guest. Thank you for your time.” It’s a dismissal, but a gentle one, and the Rider sketches a sort of bow before dropping back from us, unable to hide his relief. Kylabet watches him leave, then turns to me, frowning. Though her face is exposed, no bone covering it, she has it painted in what I am coming to recognize as the way of her people. A heavily smudged black band stretches across her eyes from temple to temple, dripping down her cheeks, with a single line leading up to her forehead where an angled, multi-lined design is carefully detailed.

“Binder,” she says, exasperation clear in her voice, “I’d appreciate it if you stopped terrorizing my men.” Whatever I was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.

“I—”

“Don’t, Demon. Just don’t. I saw your wiggling fingers from a city wall away. You hide your face well, but not well enough.”

Forcing my lips not to turn up in response, I stare ahead blankly. “I’m not used to riding, BloodLetter’s sister. Perhaps you mistook anxious movement for something else.”

She snorts in response, barking out a short, sharp laugh. “Perhaps. But if they twitch again and torment any Rider, well. I’m happy to tie your reins to fingerless hands, hmm?”

There is a promise in her words I can’t ignore, so I simply nod. “I shall endeavor to be less distasteful in the future.”

Raising a single brow, she considers me, clearly amused. “So formal, Binder. You’ll fit well in the walls at least.”

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