Page 33 of The Mirror of Beasts

I blew out a hard breath, trying to avoid thinking about Nash and what he’d told me back in Boston. “I’d have better luck interrogating the wind.”

She arched a brow. “Where is he, anyway? I heard he was knocking about again, and I would have thought he’d keep you close.”

I shook my head. “All I know is that he’s doing what he always does: taking care of himself and leaving me to take care of everything else.”

“Ah. Including your brother,” the Bonecutter said, taking up the next bone shard.

I looked over sharply.

“The Dye boy told me.”

Of course he did.

“Now, now, none of that,” she said. “He owed me a favor and it was that or disposing of a gentleman who is past due on payment.”

I perched on the edge of the worktable, knowing it was pointless to ask her to elaborate, but also scared that she might. The floorboards overhead creaked and squealed as the others moved around.

Her words from earlier drifted back to me like the dust raining from the ceiling. Cursed child.

I crossed my arms over my chest, looking to the floor until I finally managed to dislodge the aching lump from my throat. “Do you know anything about my curse?”

The Bonecutter set her tools down and turned the vessel on its wooden pedestal, inspecting her work. The hairline cracks of silver gleamed in the candlelight. “Not much, I’m afraid. Just the implications of it.”

I watched, almost mesmerized, as she dipped the edge of a bone shard into the molten silver and placed it, using a whisker-thin paintbrush to smooth and spread the magic. Using the other end of it, she etched in several small sigils and flowing patterns that had been covered by the silver or damaged as the sculpture broke. She was making quick work of it, but there were still hundreds of pieces in front of her.

“How long do you think this will take?” I asked.

“The reassembly will take the rest of the night,” the Bonecutter said. “But it’ll need another few hours to set, and for the magic to take hold.”

I bit my lip. She was working faster than I could ever have hoped, but the thought of spending another day here made me want to slide down to the floor and cry like a child. With every hour that passed, Cabell moved further and further out of my reach.

“You and the others may stay here and keep watch on the pub while I run errands,” the Bonecutter said. “It’ll be closed tomorrow.”

“What? Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’ve a delivery to fetch,” she said simply.

“You’re just going to leave us?”

“I didn’t realize you required constant supervision,” the Bonecutter said.

“When will you be back?” I pressed.

“No later than suppertime tomorrow,” she said. “The workshop will seal itself once I leave so you’re not tempted to test the vessel before it’s ready and ruin my work.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You would,” she said. “You’re as impatient as an asp.”

All right, yes, I would. “And if the vessel doesn’t work?”

“Then no repair will ever fix it,” the Bonecutter said. “And you’ll have to find a new way forward.”

“Great,” I said drolly, sliding off the table. If there was no helping the amount of time it would take, I’d claim what few hours of sleep I could. The fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten more than an hour of rest was reason enough.

“Little Lark.” Her voice interrupted my thoughts. “Do you know why this pub is called the Dead Man’s Rest?”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to wonder about it.”

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