front of you. Find a target there and stay locked on it.” She exhales and does as I say. “Good, now keep your pacing even.”
I didn’t dare Jules just for fun. I’m helping her. If she can rise above her fear of heights, she’ll be unstoppable. She’ll scale the rooftops of Dovré. She’ll leap from one to the next with the ease of an alley cat. The perfect thief.
She’s halfway across the beam, her face flushed with victory. Then her brows twitch, her confidence cracks. She’s only halfway across.
“Steady, Jules. Don’t think. Relax.”
She holds her breath. Veins pop at her temples. Her eyes lower.
Merde.
She pinwheels sideways. I lunge, but she falls too fast.
I dive for her arm, and the beam smacks my chest. Our hands scramble to connect. Her weight yanks me, but I anchor myself to the beam. She flails and releases a tight-lipped cry.
“I’ve got you, Jules!”
She grabs my wrist with her other hand. By some miracle, the coin is still in her mouth.
“The anvil’s right below you,” I warn. “I’m going to pull you back up, all right?”
She nods with a whimper.
I squeeze the beam with my thighs and lift her slowly, hand over hand. She finally makes it upright, and we straddle the beam, face-to-face and panting. Her arms fling around my neck. She’s trembling all over. I hold her tighter, cursing myself for daring her in the first place. If I lose anyone else . . . I close my eyes.
“Well done.” I fight for breath. “That was beautiful.”
She bursts with manic laughter. “If you tell Marcel about this, I’ll kill you.” Her words slur around the coin in her mouth.
“Fair enough.”
She draws back to see my face. Our noses are almost touching. She juts up her chin slightly. She’s inviting me to take the coin. I peel one hand from her waist and pluck it from her teeth.
She licks her lips. “Well?”
I give it a little bite of my own. “It’s real,” I say with a sheepish grin.
Her lashes lower. She looks like she’s about to kill me.
But then she’s kissing me.
I’m so taken off guard I lose my balance. This time it’s Jules who anchors me to the beam. Her mouth doesn’t break from mine.
I can’t help but give in to her. She’s too good at this. My hand digs into her waist. Her breath falls in gasps, fanning warmth across my face. I start to deepen the kiss, but then my stomach tangles in a hangman’s knot. I’ll cheat and steal from anyone in Dovré, but not the two people I care about most. And that’s exactly what this feels like—cheating, stealing. It took me every day of the six weeks Jules and I were together to figure out why: I’m giving what I don’t have to give.
“Jules . . .” I gently push her, but she doesn’t budge, a fighter to the core. It’s why I love her . . . just not the way she wants me to. Not yet, anyway. Maybe not ever. “Jules, no.” I scoot back. Her hands drop to the beam.
She searches my eyes. Her own brim with hurt. I can’t go down this road again. She’ll only grow to hate me. I wish I could tease her and slink away, my hands in my pockets. Instead, we’re stuck in these rafters together.
I sigh and drag my hands through my hair. It needs washing and a good cut. Usually Jules handles the shears. “Keep the coin,” I say, and place it between us. “Buy that silk dress. You can wear it to the spring festival.”
“I’m not going to buy a dress, idiot.” She snatches the coin and shoves it in her pocket. “What we need is food.”
“Well, in nine days—”
“In nine days, what? You’ll clean up your act? Find an apprenticeship? Suddenly gain a good reputation?”
I shrug. “In nine days we can leave Dovré. Start over in another city.”
“That’s what you say every full moon,” Jules snaps, then shakes her head, trying to rein in her quick temper. “We’ve been doing this for over a year, Bastien. We’ve watched every bridge. It’s time we own up to the fact that Bone Criers probably died out or moved on somewhere else—like we should.”
My eyelid tics, and I tighten my jaw. “South Galle has more Bone Crier lore than anywhere. The earliest myths come from here, not somewhere else. They haven’t died, Jules. Women like that don’t just die.”
Her gaze narrows into the glare she’s mastered. “Why, because