up. “We will make the exchange at the same time,” she tells me. “Lower another rope for Ailesse.”
“The terms are mine, not yours,” I counter. “Let go of the basket and come to the edge of the pit.”
Her black eyes narrow. She releases the rope and glances at the fractures on the floor. “I’ll do this alone,” she says to the other Bone Criers. They shift backward.
I hope Marcel is ready. There’s a second tunnel beneath us, a near copy of this one. At its end, the floor has also crumbled away into the chasm.
The queen slowly approaches the pit, her posture flawless. She’s four feet from the edge. Three feet. A hairline fissure cracks beneath her. She hesitates.
My chest tightens. The queen needs to come a little closer, where the ground is most fragile. We only have one cask of black powder.
Two feet.
“A clap of thunder,” Ailesse murmurs to herself. Her body goes rigid with understanding. “Run!” she screams at her mother. “The tunnel is going to rupture!”
The queen’s eyes fly wide. “Fall back!” she commands the other Leurress. “Roxane, the bones!”
“Now, Marcel!” I shout.
Roxane whips out a knife from a hidden sheath at her thigh. She cuts the basket free and races away with it.
I yank Ailesse back to the far wall of our small ledge and brace for the blow. My heart pounds three times. Nothing happens. How long is Marcel’s powder trail?
The queen grins. She hasn’t retreated like her attendants. She tenses to jump. I eye the fifteen feet between us. “She’ll never make it.”
“You’ve forgotten something,” Ailesse says to me. “A matrone wears five bones, not three.”
Five?
I never forgot—I never knew.
The queen leaps. Her arc is tremendous.
I release Ailesse and take a defensive stance. Ailesse rushes to the drop-off of the ledge toward her mother.
The queen is halfway across the chasm.
BOOM.
Chunks of stone burst in the air. I’m thrown on my back. Dust clouds choke my lungs. I push up to my feet, coughing. I wave away the smoke.
I can’t find the queen.
And Ailesse is gone.
18
Ailesse
I CLING TO THE CHASM wall, my hands tied. I’m barely able to keep purchase on the thin outcropping of rock. Rubble rains down on me. My muscles tense. Fingers cramp. If I fall, how long will it take before I hit the bottom and shatter every bone in my body? Don’t think like that, Ailesse. I’m not ready to die.
“Mother!” My ragged cry doesn’t echo. It’s swallowed by the settling debris and thick air.
All I see above me is a veil of dust, dimly lit by torchlight. How far down the wall did I slide? I glance across the chasm to the opposite wall to find my bearings. When I was standing with Bastien on the ledge, I saw another tunnel below ours. That’s where Marcel must have placed the black powder. But no sign of that tunnel exists anymore. It’s either fully collapsed or I’ve plunged far below it. I whimper at the thought.
My feet dig at the wall, groping for a foothold. Each time my toes catch a ridge, it crumbles away. I heave a panicked breath. If only I had my ibex bone.
Stop, Ailesse. Pining for what I’ve lost isn’t going to help me. I briefly close my eyes, trying to feel the strength and balance of my ibex grace. My muscles must remember.
I steadily drag one leg up until my toe finally grips a foothold. I carefully set my weight on it, my calf cramping. I slide my other leg up, but my foot can’t find purchase. The other foot slips, and my knee slams the wall.
“Mother!” I hate the sob that rips from my lungs. How weak she’ll think me. My legs dangle uselessly, my hands tremble. I can’t hold on much longer.
“Ailesse!”
My head snaps up. My mother’s voice is faint. I can’t tell if she’s near or far due to the way the catacombs eat sound. “I’m down here!” I instinctively shout. But she doesn’t need to hear me or see me to gain a sense of direction. She still has her tooth band from a whiptail stingray and the skull of a giant noctule bat. She pried the latter from her crown when Bastien wasn’t looking. Between the two bones, my mother has a sixth sense and echolocation. Even if she can’t see me, she’ll find me. As long as I can hang on.
My hands grow clammy. My grip is sliding. I squeeze with all my might. Elara, help me.