Page 43 of Silver in the Bone

Neve put the skull back down and picked up the bone beside it. It was in a glass case edged with gold and shaped like a foot, complete with empty sockets on the toenails, where jewels had likely been.

“This may be an even better option,” Neve said. “It’s part of the foot of Saint Henwg.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Well, exactly,” Neve said. “It’s not like the bones of well-known people are easy to come by. I borrowed it from Auntie.” She sighed. “Okay, no, I stole it.”

The sorceresses loved few things more than revenge, even if that revenge waited centuries. From what I’d read, they took considerable pleasure in using the bones of those whose burgeoning religion had violently destroyed the ancient pagan faiths.

“And then here we have—”

“Let’s just use the saint’s bone,” I said, cutting her off. I dug a small hole in the dirt floor with my collapsible axe and gave the coin one last look before tossing it in. Neve opened a flap on the bottom of the foot, and a miserable, yellowed bone the length of a finger dropped beside the coin. All four of us leaned in, staring at it.

“Huh,” I said.

Emrys lit a small branch with his lighter, then passed it to me. As it burned down, ash and embers drifted into the hole.

“Do you think that’s enough?” Cabell asked.

“It better be,” I said, kicking the loose soil back into the hole. I crouched down, patting it firmly in place just to be sure.

We waited and watched. And still nothing happened.

I shook my head, making a noise of disgust at the back of my throat. Anger burned in the pit of my stomach. Typical Nash, playing stupid games like this just to seem mysterious.

“Maybe it takes a minute?” Neve suggested. Her eyes were soft in a way I instantly hated.

“You can wait a thousand years and I promise that nothing will ever come out of that dirt,” I said, sitting beside my bags and wrapping my jacket tighter around me.

“It was worth a shot,” Cabell said. Disappointment was etched into his face and seemed to weigh heavy on his shoulders.

“So,” Emrys said into the silence that followed. “Now that we have that out of the way, are we good to work together, or do we need to stand here and argue about it for another ten minutes?”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you bring to this again? Other than preening and striking dramatic poses, of course.”

“Hilarious, Bird.”

“That’s not her name,” Cabell snapped.

“Tamsin thinks she knows where Nash went based on his note,” Emrys said. “And if my hunch is correct, it’s not in this world.”

For the first time, Neve’s excitement dulled. “Not in this world? You think he went to one of the Otherlands?”

Cabell turned to me with an encouraging look. “Go on, Tams.”

“Not until we get some kind of assurance from Dye that this isn’t a trick,” I said.

Emrys groaned. “You are so damn stubborn. Fine ... here.”

He took his pack off his shoulder and retrieved a palm-sized bottle, setting it on the ground between us when I didn’t immediately take it. “Madrigal gave this to me.”

“Madrigal?” Neve said, perking up. “Is it true she turned her last lover into a chandelier?”

“No,” Emrys said. “But thank you for that horrifying mental image. She thought there was a chance the ring had crossed into an Otherland and gave this to me to summon the Hag of the Mist. She’s the only creature outside the Wild Hunt capable of manipulating the mists that separate our world from the Otherlands. We can completely bypass the original sealed pathways.”

Neve frowned. “Are you sure we should be summoning primordial creatures? Don’t they always want something in return for their service?” “Hence the offering,” Emrys said, gesturing to the bottle. “To summon her.”

I bent to retrieve it, holding it up in one of the shafts of light sneaking in through the walls around us. Leaves I didn’t recognize, several quartz crystals, and three glowing fangs were suspended in thick, dark blood. The clear glass bore the sorceress’s mark—a chess piece with a reverse crescent over it.

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