Page 167 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

Lorcan flickers, is so pale his soul is the butter yellow of the sun inour village. The pale wheat of our crops. The cold light of a winter dawn.

Goodbye, goodbye.

The world closes in around me, cavernous and dark, every moment a blink, every moment an eternity.

Make room or I will rip you from your bone and silence you forever.It’s not an idle threat — I’m already tearing at her soul, peeling her away from her binding.I am a rabid wolf, foaming at the mouth, ready to pull the world apart to find a place for Lorcan to rest. He is almost gone, barely a shadow at all.

It is only for Teo, Binder! There is only room for Teo.

Screaming, head tilted back, neck cording, I curse the Gods. I curse the Earth and the Sun that have brought me to this moment, every Rending and Reaping, every Guiding, every storm-lost soul.

I bend.

I break.

And I shove Teo in beside Ellie, where they burst into song together, so loud and bright it pierces my marrow with sharp, jealous pain.

Lorcan is a breath in my hands, my fingers cradling him.

Binder! QUICKLY!

It is the last thing Teo is able to say before he and Ellie ignite in a bright white flare, the echo of their meeting so powerful it knocks me sideways into Teo’s empty body.

His empty body.

It has been only a few seconds. Not even a minute.

His empty body.

My knees are bloody.

Eerie calm settles on me like a shroud; I don’t waste a breath to consider the implications of what I’m about to do. There is Lorcan, and there is the rest of the world, and no space for nuances between. Reaching down with one hand, I rub my raw skin, getting my fingers as bloody as possible, then pass Lorcan’s soul to it, before bloodying my other.

In my dripping, crimson hands, his glowing soul strengthens, justfor a moment, long enough that I am able to guide him to the bone in Teo’s waiting body. There is nothing to battle against me, and I am meticulous, filling every bit of marrow with Lorcan’s soul light, binding him as I have never bound another before, weaving him into spiderwebs of vein, sinking him into rivers of red. I guide him to bone, then, using my blood as ink, trace my sigils on his brow, his cheeks, his lips.

By blood and by bone I have bound you, Lorcan. Come back to me. Come back. What am I missing?

As quickly as the thought strikes me, I am moving, sifting through the bone dust to grab one of the tiny, razor sharp shards that the hammer did not completely destroy. It cuts my fingers as I pick it up, slicing a thin, neat line, but I don’t feel the pain. Turning back to the body, I flip his hands palm down, and on his exposed flesh, carve the symbols of the TriGoddess deep into the unresisting skin in matching patterns. Blood wells from the cuts in ruby lines along the curves of the three moons.

Finally, rocking back on my heels, I look down at him, checking and checking again to see that the guiding will hold. Everything looks right, everything is clean.

But he is not breathing.

I have blood.

I have flesh.

I have bone.

What more? Whatmore?

Words surge forward in my mind, forcing my lips to whisper a quiet prayer I have not said or heard since I was a child, when my mother still held me against her in the night and gave me all of the love in her heart for as long as she was able. Placing both of my bloodied thumbs on his closed eyes and pressing gently, I murmur,

“Blessings of the Lady upon you.

The eyes of the Maiden who loves you.

The eyes of the Mother who birthed you.

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