Page 54 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

I frown harder, shaking slightly, though I don’t know why.Calm down, calm down.“Why?”

“Why…why did I see you? Why do I want to hear you? Why do I think you looked like a candle?” I shrug again, and he laughs, the sound musical. Drinking it in, my mind chants over and overdanger, danger, danger.This casual happiness could be addictive in three short days. It’s too much even in this moment. I can’t imagine how painful a lifetime of it would be. Holding up a hand, he ticks off his fingers. “I can’t tell you why I noticed you as soon as I walked in. But you glowed in the shadows, fading in and out like a ghost. And I couldn’t look away. Which is saying something in the City of Bone.” The last is almost sardonic, and I don’t like the sound in his easy voice. There is a hint of fang there, of venom, then he slips back into sweetness as he continues. “Why do I want to hear your voice? You look like you have a century of words trapped in your head, and I want to know what they say. Everyone else here rushed up, couldn’t stop talking, touching, looking. You stayed back and didn’t move, and then drifted away.” Looking down at the ground, he kicks the rock again, and adds softly, “I wanted to see where you drifted.”

How to speak? I don’t have the practice, don’t know what it is like to be someone other than just the BoneKeeper.Taking a deep breath, I stare at the wall beyond him. “I don’t like crowds.” It is all I can offer, but it seems to be enough.

Nodding encouragingly, he picks up a piece of straw and plays with it, twisting it this way and that in his giant fingers. “I thought as much. I knew if I wanted to find you, I’d have to go as far from the madding as possible.” He shifts, uncomfortable on the stone.He’s used to cushions and soft things, I think, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out of my mouth.

“I am not soft.”

I’ve surprised him, and feel an unfamiliar flush of…what is this? Embarrassment, I’d say, but I’ve never been embarrassed, not..just as a girl with a boy…so the feeling is almost sickening in its intensity. My face feels hot, and I look away from him. He is careful when he replies, cautious, as though walking where he is unsure of a safe step. “No, no, I would not say you were…”

The words are gentle, but cause unexpected, and I’d wager, unintentional, hurt. My shoulders fold in around me, shielding me.So much bone to protect one stupid, delicate heart.Reaching out, I run my hand along the wall, where tiny pieces of bone are mixed with the binding mud, locking the giant stones in place, and I slice a finger on a particularly sharp fragment, just enough to draw a drop of blood. It brings me back to myself, and I straighten.I am not soft, and I would not survive if I were. Not like this man-child, who has nothing but full cheeks rounding out his square jaw, and sweet eyes that will not keep him safe from the Storms.

“We are not a velvet people,” I reply, remembering the material on the couches in the Council House. My words are edged, almost accusatory, and he sighs.

“I misstepped, but I’m not sure where. Can we start over? I’m sorry.”He is killing me. This casual kindness, this willingness…he is killing me.Suddenly I realize there are other ways to die than by the flame or by the knife, and it scares me. My heart is missing beats that have been steady since I was born.

Keeper.

Lorcan is quiet on my back, his voice tense. There is no warning, though, and he says nothing else. I want to answer, but am distracted by movement.

“I’m Kaden…” he starts, holding out his hand, and I stare somewhere over it for a long time, too long really, til the moment becomes awkward. He startles suddenly and rolls his eyes. “Forgot already,” he mutters, then says more loudly, “I’m holding my hand out to you.” I have no idea what to do, but he is patient, waiting for me to make up my mind, until I lift my own hand and hold it out as well, reaching until it bumps his gently.. I’m not sure what I am meant to do now, so I just leave it there, odd and stiff. For some reason it makes him smile, though I’m not sure where I’ve gone wrong.

His thick, strong fingers wrap around my smaller, paler ones, and I tilt my head, studying the movement. We are somehow just…holding hands now. And — well, I like it. But I don’t know how to extricate my fingers, and I think I’m misunderstanding something. He gives no clues, just sits happily holding my hand in his, until I sigh in exasperation. “Alright. I give up. What did I do wrong?”

Laughter pours from him like water from a jug, bubbling and bright, and I am suddenly so thirsty that my throat clenches. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. But it was nice to hold your hand, if only for a minute.” He lets me go, and my fingers feel cold. “In my culture, we shake hands when we meet.” He holds out his hand again, and I place mine in his again, the same way as before. Smiling gently, he changes the position of my fingers until they cross his palm, and pumps my hand up and down twice. The movement startles an answering song of laughter from me, and I jerk my hand away, covering my mouth in surprise. I don’t…I can’t think of the last time I laughed like that, other than with the children or for the bones. This sound, this sound was just from me though, no one else, and the look of satisfaction on his face is…craveable.

“I’m sorry!” I offer, voice still unsteady, though I fight against the amusement there. “I’ve never…I don’t understand the shaking thing. I don’t mean to make light of your practices though. I apologize. Can we try again?”

He nods, eyes sparking like embers, and we shake hands again, this time quite seriously, and I commit the movement to memory. “Does everyone do this?” I ask. “Or is this between friends? When do we use this? Our village doesn’t have such…such casual contact.” Well. Our village doesn’t have such casual contact withme, in any case.

Kaden frowns, just the hint of one between his brows, but tries to smooth it out. “Everyone does it. In most formal situations, or first meetings. If we were closer friends, our greetings would be different.”

“How so?” I ask, curiosity overtaking me now. I don’t get many chances to justbelike this, and don’t know when I will again. And knowledge is like water to me — rare and precious.

“Should I just show you?” he asks, and I don’t heed the eager warning in his voice, so I nod. He stands and turns to me, grabbing my hands gently and pulling me to my feet so close in front of him that on a deep inhale, his chest would brush mine. The thought catches the breath in my throat, and I look up at his face with wide eyes. Something in them drains the humor from his own, and it is replaced by an unfamiliar hunger.

“We would…” he clears his throat, then continues in his deep voice, “...we would, for friends or family members, embrace, and then kiss either cheek.” Reaching out, he demonstrates, wrapping me in his arms and pulling me against him, before leaning back and placing a gentle kiss on either side of my face. I am frozen, I am ice, unable to move. His face is smooth, lips soft, and I can feel his breath glide over my skin. His clothes are almost luxurious, some fabric I have not touched before, and he smells of soap and summer hay-clean, warm scents that make me want to curl against him and make his arms my home. With that thought, I pull away from him, but slowly, reluctantly, and steady my shaking breath.Danger, dangermy mind whispers again, but the bones around me offer no such warning. They are watching, and waiting, but with interest, giving me no cause for alarm.

Kaden is shaky as well, and looks around as though to give himselfa moment to think. “Can you…will you show me your village a little, Flame?” The words curl my mouth to smile again — this Trader pulls a string inside me I thought cut many years ago.Flame. Usually I am a ghost, a shadow, something empty til others fill me. I have never been called something…something that illuminates, rather than fades.

Lorcan is…silent, yes, buttense, down my back. He feels like a clenched jaw, or closed fists, but says nothing, and I reach up, deceptively casual, to rest my fingers on his bones.

“I will. Though only the Keep. I’m not venturing into the chaos of the First or Second Ring today.” I shoot him a guarded smile. “You’re welcome to go back at any time, though. There’s not much to see.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” he replies seriously. “I think there’s plenty here to keep me interested.” His eyes are fixed on me, unwavering, and his meaning is very clear.Why is it so hard to breathe near him?

Motioning toward the wall, I walk slowly, and he falls in easy pace next to me. “I’ll take you to the far edge, near the cistern and the Oldest Mother, and we can walk from there?” I offer, and his brows knit together in a perplexed expression.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying, Flame, but where you lead, I’ll happily follow.”

Being with him is what I imagine drowning would feel like — it is too much, too much, but the water would be impossible to turn down. An excess of happiness in a place where joy is rationed in careful bites. Out of nowhere, the image of a bright orange ball, the sting of citrus, and the feel of sharp lips tracing my own sends a wave of anxiousness through me. I press my hand to my stomach, and change course.

“Perhaps we’ll start in the Gardens,” I say quietly, shakily. Taking him to the secret, silent place near the cistern feels…feels like a sort of betrayal. I cannot do it. I’m sure he notices, but he says nothing, reaching out cautiously to take my hand in his instead, and squeezes it gently.I shouldn’t let this happenI think, but to be a girl for a moment,justa girl and nothing more, is so overwhelming, that I let it happen. And I squeeze back. Just once.

“Will you not tell me your name, Flame?” he asks quietly, toneteasing, but something serious on its edges, and I stop walking to look at him.

I have met his eyes more in the past few minutes than most other villagers’ in the past year. I am not used to seeing and being seen. “Maybe I should make you earn it…” I reply, and the sound of it makes me think of the unmarried women in the village during their dancing seasons, a pale echo of their siren songs. Even so, my unpracticed flirtation is enough for the Trader, and he leans in towards me, eagerness clear on his face.

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