He smiles as if I’ve told a clever joke. “I do now.”

Talon’s hands close around the jar, and at the same moment, the rest of us rush forward. We try to pry the claw from Latham’s throat, but it holds fast. I let out a cry of frustration, but then a raven flies into the room at full speed and rams into Latham’s collarbone, tugging at the clasp with its beak. Finally it comes loose and clatters to the floor. At the same moment, Bram breaks one of the bones in his pouch and Latham’s femur snaps in half. His eyes go wide. He tumbles from the chair.

His scream is music to my ears.

“Tie him up over there,” I say.

Niklas fishes the bone cord from the satchel and pulls Latham’s arms behind his back. He wraps the cord around his wrists several times. Latham struggles and the cord digs even deeper into his flesh. Rayna is still whimpering in the corner, and Niklas drags Latham across the floor and deposits him next to her.

I gather supplies and bring them to the table—a bone knife, a needle, a velvet cloth. Then I carefully take all of the jars from the shelves and bring them to the table.

Gran’s bones line up in front of me—broken, yet full of possibilities. They could be combined in endless different ways to change the past.

A sense of calm settles over me.

I don’t know if what I’m attempting is even possible. But if I fail, at least I will fail trying to avenge my mother and Gran.

I remove the first bone from the nutrient solution and place it on the cloth. I touch one half and then the other—my fingertips resting on each just long enough to remind me of what I saw when I last read them. Latham at seventeen. One side of the bone, Latham’s father splits his coin between a kenning and matchmaking reading for his son. On the other half, he devotes the full amount to the kenning—more valuable bones, more expensively prepared.

But I don’t want either option.

I sift through my memory of a small, slender path I saw on one of the other bones. A path where Latham’s father lost a great deal of coin on a bad investment.

It was an unlikely outcome in any reality, but I’m going to make it happen.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Latham says. His voice rattles from his throat, strained and full of pain.

“Yes,” I tell him, “I do.”