tolerating Birdine since she’s helping us right now. “Get something to eat. I can finish up here.”
Merde. I bury my head in the pillow again.
Birdine and Jules switch places, and I prepare myself for a lancing stab. All I feel is a bee sting. I turn my head and raise my brows at Jules.
“What?” She pulls the needle through. “I can be gentle when I want.”
There must be a first for everything. “So . . . how bad is it?”
She takes a heavy breath. “Well, you’ll never walk again, and Marcel says the loss of blood you suffered will permanently damage your brain.” The corner of her mouth curves. “But you’ll live.”
“Good thing I can wiggle my toes right now, or I might just believe you.”
She ties a knot in the catgut string. “You’re going to be all right. You just need to be patient while you heal. It’s not going to happen overnight.”
My chest sinks into the mattress. “By the time I’m able to fight again, Ailesse might be . . .” My raspy voice cracks, and I mash my lips together to make them stop trembling. “She’s in worse shape than I am, you know. She can’t just walk out of Beau Palais.” Rumor has it the king will die soon. And if Casimir thinks he can make Ailesse his queen . . . I grab a fistful of bedding and squeeze tight.
Jules cuts the catgut with a pair of shears and places her hand on my shoulder. “Believe it or not, I want to rescue Ailesse, too. I owe her.”
I take a closer look at my friend. Jules’s eyes are sunken, and her skin’s even paler than mine. “How long do you think that Chained man was inside you?” I ask tentatively. Ailesse said the Chained can eat away a person’s soul, steal their Light. “Maybe we can figure out how much . . .”
Jules’s face hardens. She abruptly stands and tosses her braided hair behind her shoulder. “You’re all stitched up now, Bastien. You should rest.”
“But—”
She crosses her arms. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I sigh and nod. “Fine.” Jules probably can’t even answer my biggest question—if someone can gain back the Light they lost.
Three knocks sound on the door.
Everyone in the room freezes.
One more knock. Then two.
Marcel’s code. Again.
Jules withdraws a knife. Birdine scoots closer to Marcel. Marcel tries his best to look brave. I bolt upright, and my back wrenches in pain.
“Who’s out there?” Jules calls, creeping toward the door.
No one answers.
She turns to Marcel. “Were you followed?”
“Would I know if I was followed?”
“Well, I would know if I was followed.”
My head spins. Don’t pass out, Bastien. I’m still dizzy from blood loss.
Rap, rap, rap.
Rap.
Rap, rap.
Jules throws me a questioning glance. I nod and ball my hands into fists.
She tightens her grip on the knife. Slowly unlocks the door. Cracks it open.
“Merde!” She jumps backward as a cloaked figure kicks the door wide.
Before anyone can react, a hand flashes out from the cloak. Seizes Jules’s knife. Flings it across the room.
Thwack. The blade sinks into the wall right behind me. Adrenaline shoots through my limbs.
“I don’t want to fight any of you,” the visitor says in a distinctly feminine voice. One I recognize.
“Too bad.” Jules lunges for her.
“No, don’t!” I say, even though the visitor easily dodges her attack. “She’s a friend. She’s Ailesse’s friend,” I clarify. Jules’s brow furrows.
The visitor takes three smooth steps into the room and draws back the hood of her cloak. Black curls spring around her face. Large brown eyes stare back at me. “Hello, Bastien.”
I nod, struggling to stay upright. My back is on fire. “Sabine.”
She lifts her chin. “I’ve come to tell you Prince Casimir has abducted Ailesse.”
“Saw it with my own eyes.” My jaw muscle tenses.
Sabine’s hand drifts to her necklace of grace bones. She inhales a long breath through her nostrils. “I’ve come to ask for your help.”
Acknowledgments
DREAMING UP THIS STORY AND crafting it into a polished book has been a wonderful and challenging adventure. I’m indebted and grateful to those who helped make it happen:
My agent, Josh Adams, who saw a spark of greatness in my long and rambling phone call about French folklore, star-crossed lovers, bone magic, and Ferriers of the dead.
My editor, Maria Barbo, who believed in Ailesse, Sabine, and Bastien from the start. You brought out their angst, demons, and desires with your signature magic. I trust you implicitly.
Stephanie Guerdan, Maria’s brilliant assistant, who literally keeps us on the same