Page 77 of The BoneKeeper's Daughter

The women flutter from him to Nickolas and back again, eyes darting briefly to Kaden, Rannoch and myself, then back to the brothers.

“Thank you, Councilor! It’s too generous by half…” They protest, but he waves them off, taking their names and then helping Nickolas to his feet, staggering briefly under his weight.

“Father. Councilor. Trader.” He nods briefly to each of us in turn, then leads his waste of a brother inside the house doors, leaving our strange assembly on the steps. Kaden is unmoving beside us, but is taking long, slow breaths as though to calm himself. Rannoch glances at me, then stares off into the distance, lost in thought. He is playing out the pieces on the board — I recognize the look on his face, thinking through tactics and movements, rethinking choices made innew light. The women, however, surprise me, all of their fluttering and agitation falling away once the brothers close the door behind them. They exchange a heavily laden look, and then address me carefully.

“Clearly there are things to work out here, Father. We’re due at the pools, but… perhaps it would be best for all involved if we keep this matter quiet for the time being.” Some of my shock must show on my face, because the shorter of the two purses her lips in something like annoyance, though she tries to bite it back. The other sighs and shakes her head, then says in a low voice, “Do you think we have no eyes or ears, Father? You should have more faith in your people. At least…someof your people.” She points a finger at Kaden, almost rolling her eyes. “Thatman would not have laid a hand on the Kee — on Wren. Unless she asked him to. The same cannot be said for others. This can’t be kept quiet. There will be no way. But none of it will come from our mouths. And if Wren needs a woman’s help, call on myself — I’m Grace — or Bri. We will come, or will know who to send.”

There’s a long, accusatory pause, and then Bri speaks, trying to stay respectful, but failing. “She’s been kept by herself for too long, Father. We thought it by choice, and tried to respect that. But even kittens’ eyes open eventually. Please call us to assist. Don’t let her heal alone, or without a woman’s presence. If Nickolas looks like that, I can only imagine what damage…the attacker…may have done.”

I can only nod, which seems to be enough, and they turn away in a sharp swirl of skirts. Beside me, Kaden loses his battle with staying calm, and faces me, muscles tight, hands clenched.

“You will take me to her,” he states flatly, no room for argument in his voice.

And Gods’ help me, but I do.

A BROKEN BIRD

KADEN

We have a bird in my homeland — tiny, so little it could fit in the palm of your hand with space for another. A little puff of feathers, and seemingly docile. The Crimson Wrush, it’s called. All white, with startling red wings, and a red cap on its head. That’s what Wren looks like, curled into a small ball on the bed in front of me, scarlet streaks through her white hair, stained carmine hands curled protectively across her face, leaving just her closed eyes and thick white lashes visible. The rest of her is tucked beneath heavy blankets in a silent room, far from the Council House, where Silas and Rannoch led me after the confrontation on the steps.

Her bone necklace is back around her throat, woven through her fingers, pressed against the mottled skin on her cheeks, bruising clear even in the dim light, and I want to break the world around me to pieces, leave no one but her and me breathing.

“I know.”

Rannoch’s voice is somewhere caught between apologetic, antagonistic, and completely helpless.

“What in sky and sea?...” I don’t even know how to continue what I was going to say, and swallow reflexively before forcing myself to ask, “It’s a stupid question, stupid, but…is she alright? I mean, she’s not alright. I can see that she’s not. I don’t know what to?—”

Silas interrupts, thankfully. “Her attacker pulled some hair from her head…” He pauses, choking, then continues. “He — I think he must have hit her. She has scrapes, bruising. It stops at her hips. She was able to fight him off. But she isn’t unscathed.”

“Yeah, well. Neither is he,” I growl, some small amount of pride creeping into my voice. They exchange quick, surprised looks, and I sigh. “Are we pretending that that willow-spined excuse for a man wasn’t the one who did this? He’ll lose that eye if we’re lucky. She must have really gotten him.” A vicious grin splits my face. “I’d have liked to have seen that. This little thing cracking his head open. A shame it wasn’t just a bit harder. If you can hear me, Wren, even in your dreams, that was fucking brilliant of you. Well done.”

“She shouldn’t have had to.” Rannoch’s voice is tight, even accusatory, and I sense more than see Silas tense up next to me.

“No. She shouldn’t have. But we don’t always have choices.”

“Wedo, Silas. We actually do. And we may have to make the choices we make, but that doesn’t mean I can’t regret them.”

Wren stirs, a low moan of sound escaping her lips, and both men fall silent.

“Where are we, anyway?” I ask quietly, more to distract them from each other than anything else. If they fight, and wake her, I know we’ll have to leave, and I want as long as possible to study her sleeping face.

“We’re in the old BoneKeeper’s cottage,” Silas replies begrudgingly. “It’s been mostly abandoned. Few remember that it even exists. Before Wren, the BoneKeepers lived here. When Wren was young, she was moved to the Council House for a time, and then given a small home closer to the House for safety.”

I snort derisively. “How’s that working out for her, I wonder?”

“Not well,” Rannoch replies tightly. “Clearly.”

“We’re doing what we can, Rann,” Silas snaps, clearly frustrated. “When the rains come —” He pauses, and Rannoch inhales long and slow, before exhaling and nodding.

“You’re right. You’re right. When the rains come.” They exchange a long look, and then focus back on Wren.

“They just need to get here sooner,” Silas whispers, and Rannoch nods in agreement.

“What happens when the rains come?” I ask, curious despite myself, but Rannoch is clearly back with Silas, and shrugs.

“What happens, Trader, is that you’ll be gone, so it’s not your concern. Neither, I’ll remind you, is Wren. You have a day left here. Well, the rest of today and tomorrow. And then this will all be a fever dream you’ll leave behind.”

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