Bone Threads: A Comedic Romantic Fantasy (Soul Threads Book 2), page 1
Bone Threads
Book II of Soul Threads
Grace R. Pringle
Copyright © 2025 by Grace R. Pringle
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication, either text or image, may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, storage in a retrieval system, or retransmission, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, except for brief quotations for reviews or articles and promotions, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission by the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting Grace R. Pringle’s and the publisher’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
#madebyhumans NO AI was used in the production of this novel. The work is entirely original to Grace R. Pringle and is her intellectual property.
Editing by Esther @ Ink-Stained Pages
Cover design by Eugene Chugunov (wickard404@gmail.com)
Content warning: Rated PG for adventure, clean romance, and magical mishaps.
Spelling is in Canadian English.
To my four beautiful, talented, creative daughters.
Your soul threads are bright.
Contents
Soul Threads Recap
1. Missing the Boat
2. Hammocks
3. Shipments of Monkeys
4. Barefoot at the Window
5. Dragon’s Wake
6. Separate Ways
7. Spell Breaking
8. Sea Glass
9. Brains is Never Wrong
10. Alarm Spells
11. Snout-First
12. Shattered Bone
13. The Pearl
14. Tidal’s Revenge
World Guide
Character Guide
Acknowledgments
About the Author
More Tales of Quith by Grace R. Pringle
Soul Threads Recap
In Soul Threads, husband and wife Paladalls, Pilder and Rilla Duskhand, are summoned to Lord Wavefar’s mansion and tasked with tapping into a mysterious orb as a possible source of magic.
While attempting what had never been done before, they learned the orb contained a soul, ripped by their Witch-Queen, Sisinta, from the body of a young boy. Pilder had to face the horrific knowledge that a spell he’d invented for his entrance exam into the Anthurium many years before had been twisted and used to commit murder. Determined to free the soul, Rilla and Pilder decide to commit treason and call on the High King, Elyon, a legendary figure rumoured to be the original source of magic.
The High King frees the soul and reveals to the Paladalls the black soul threads wound through their own bodies by the Witch-Queen. After Elyon burns away their sickly black soul threads, Rilla and Pilder are relieved but keenly aware of the danger they’re now in if the Witch-Queen finds out what they’ve done.
Chapter 1
Missing the Boat
“We’re going to miss the boat,” Rilla told Pilder. Her husband’s half-human stride was somehow eating more ground than hers, even though he was only a few inches taller.
“Not if I can help it,” Pilder declared, back straight and eyes narrowed in focus on the ship at the pier’s end.
Sailors darkened by long days in the sun were unwinding the ropes tethering the ship to the pier.
Rilla risked a glance behind at the lollygagging dockworker. He pushed a cart laden with their luggage at a pace far too leisurely for her standards. She found herself alternating between a near-running gait to catch the ship and a fast walk so their trunks wouldn’t be left behind. She locked her eyes forward on their goal: The Ongoing II was a magnificent schooner set on a course for the hot and sandy Outlands, a sparsely inhabited western kingdom of Lower Quith.
Pilder held out his hand and wiggled his fingers impatiently.
Rilla grasped them. His large, warm hand enveloped hers and she immediately felt her anxiety abate.
“Hold on.” Pilder stretched his free hand towards the boat and jutted his chin forward. Threads of magic slingshotted from his fingers. The air pressurized around them.
Rilla’s ears popped and she gritted her teeth against the discomfort. “Wait! What about our—”
Whump!
They were unceremoniously dumped in a heap onto the deck of the Ongoing II.
“Luggage,” Rilla finished. She detangled her limbs from Pilder’s and propped herself up on his toned chest.
His golden eyes twinkled at her. He tucked a loose strand of her white hair behind one slightly pointed ear. “I know you can’t control yourself when I’m around, but there’s a time and a place for things, darling.” He grinned.
Rilla playfully smacked him in the chest and clambered to her feet.
Husband and wife straightened their robes and took in their surroundings. Sailors were scrambling expertly up the rigging and unfurling the sails.
“You’ve boarded this ship illegally,” a quiet yet authoritative voice said.
They turned to the speaker: a Paladall dressed in high leather boots and a once-fine burgundy jacket crusted with sea salt. A dagger was strapped to his belt and charms dangled from the ends of his lacy sleeves and the tops of his boots. He was close to their age, likely three hundred years old or so, judging by the few streaks of black in his pure-white hair, and only a couple of creases in his otherwise youthful face.
“How do you do?” Rilla asked politely.
She and Pilder bowed.
“Are you the captain?” Pilder asked.
“I am.” The Paladall inclined his head; a slight compared to their formal bows. “Tell me why I shouldn’t make you swim for shore.”
“We purchased passage a few days ago.” Rilla scrounged through the leather bag at her waist, then froze and looked back to shore.
The dockworker stood next to the cart, hands on hips, watching the ship move farther away with every passing second.
“Dragon’s teeth.” She groaned and turned to Pilder. “Our proof of purchase is in our trunks, along with that tapestry I spent the last five years making for your grandmother! Can we go back and just—”
“My magic can’t reach that far.” Pilder cringed. “If I try now, the trunk might drop in the water. Sorry. I was so focused on getting us onboard that I forgot about our luggage.”
“What are your names?” the captain demanded.
“I am Lord Pilder Duskhand and this is my wife, Lady Rillanna Duskhand.”
Rilla watched the captain’s sharp gaze take in their appearance. She knew what he saw: her bright blue eyes, and willowy figure in the well-tailored dress of a lady, and Pilder’s dark hair and golden eyes, his frame, slightly short and stocky for a Paladall, clothed in fine breeches and a shirt of linen. Over his entire ensemble, Pilder wore the navy-blue robe of an Anthurium professor.
“You’re a half-blood.” The Paladall captain eyed Pilder with a light of curiosity.
Pilder shifted uncomfortably. “What of it?”
The Paladall pointed to the Anthurium’s insignia on the collar of Pilder’s robe: a blue embroidered lantern surrounded by spell threads. “Can you do magic?”
Pilder’s eyes narrowed. “Of course, I’m head of the Nascent Spells Department at the Anthurium.”
Rilla discreetly slipped her hand into her husband’s and squeezed. He was always expected to prove himself and his right to exist. A magicless Paladall was a shame to his kind. Pilder’s ability to do magic had given him a purpose and prestige his human blood hadn’t.
Through Pilder’s grip on her hand, Rilla could feel his heart rate was up and matching hers in pace. If the captain asked Pilder to prove his abilities and reveal his spell-mark—a black snake magically hidden on the foreheads of Paladalls who served Sisinta, the Witch-Queen—then they’d be in hot, boiling water. Sisinta’s mark had been replaced by the High King Elyon’s name, written in big, shining, golden letters. Magically hidden or not, it branded them as enemies of the Witch-Queen.
Please don’t let him ask to see our spell-marks, Elyon, Rilla silently prayed.
One month before, Rilla and Pilder had found themselves face-to-face with the legendary High King. He’d revealed the black, twisting soul thread the Witch-Queen had secretly woven through their bodies when they—and all other Paladalls—first accessed her as a magical source. It had been painful, but the threads in Rilla and Pilder had been burned away by Elyon. He was their source of magic now. The oily, writhing wrongness of Sisinta’s thread was blessedly gone.
“Hmm. A half-blood doing magic is not something you see every day. And you,” the Paladall turned to Rilla, an appreciative glint in his eyes, “you are also a professor?”
Rilla relaxed a little. He didn’t seem to want proof of Pilder’s abilities. She shook her head. “I’m an identifier.”
<
“Spells,” she said.
“Are you good at it?” the captain asked.
Rilla shrugged. “My father certainly hopes so, since he paid for my degree at the Anthurium. My one hundred ten years of experience speaks for itself.”
“Perfect.” The captain gave her a face-splitting smile. “I don’t condone your method of boarding my ship, but now that you’re here, you can stay.” His expression became serious. “I’d say my steward would take your belongings below, but it appears you have none to stow away.”
The captain’s schooled expression didn’t betray mirth, but Rilla couldn’t help thinking he was laughing at them anyway.
“Welcome aboard the Lantern Bearer!” The Paladall spread his hand in a grand gesture across the bulk and sails of the small vessel.
“The … what?” Rilla stammered. That wasn’t right. Rilla’s bright blue eyes met Pilder’s golden ones with a haunting look of trepidation.
“The Lantern Bearer? That’s this ship and you are on it.”
“No. This is the Ongoing II,” Pilder insisted. “Leaving from pier 3?”
“No.” The Paladall laughed. “This is the Lantern Bearer leaving from pier 13.”
Rilla voiced what they already knew. “We’re on the wrong ship.”
Chapter 2
Hammocks
The quarters the captain allotted to Rilla and Pilder were two hammocks swinging wildly from the ship’s deck beams.
Stealthy, the heavily-accented Paladall who accompanied them below, had left to retrieve blankets.
“Do you think the two of us can fit in one?” Rilla asked Pilder.
“Maybe …” Pilder considered the strength of his hammock.
“I was joking, Pilder.”
“I’m not! I slept alone for enough years of my life, thank you very much. I demand my cuddling rights!”
“There ain’t no cuddlin’ on board, I’m ’fraid.”
Rilla jolted at Stealthy’s voice. She suddenly understood his nickname as the sailor appeared at Pilder’s elbow, holding out two wool blankets.
“That’s a luxur-ee fer land-lubbers.”
Pilder jerked slightly but recovered his tongue quickly. “Well, technically we are from land and we are lovers,” he defended.
“It’s ‘lubb-ers’ not ‘lov-ers,’” Stealthy corrected.
“Thank you.” Rilla took the blankets from Stealthy who shrugged.
“Night,” the aptly-named sailor muttered and slunk off through the shadows cast by the hull.
“You’re shameless, you know that?” Rilla admonished her husband.
“Shameless? No. In love? Yes.” He pulled her towards him by her waist and planted a kiss on her upturned nose.
“Your grandmother insists on paying for these trips every five years so we don’t have an excuse to refuse. She’ll be put out when we don’t arrive on time. And Shade and Eventide will be worried sick waiting for us!” Rilla wrung her hands. Their children might have been considered adults in human years, but by Paladall standards, they were barely old enough to leave home.
“They’ll be fine,” Pilder reassured her.
“I knew we should have gone with them!” Rilla insisted.
“The Anthurium wouldn’t let me off until after they left and you had to finish categorizing the artifacts in that private collection. They’re in good hands.” He pulled her in for a kiss.
Taken off guard, Rilla’s head spun.
He pulled away after a few seconds, his expression expectant. “Did it work?”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“My kiss. Do you feel rejuvenated by our love and no longer harassed by our circumstances?”
Rilla rolled her eyes but the effect was ruined by her smile. “It’s just that I was hoping to have the chance to speak privately with the children.” She glanced around the cramped space to ensure they were alone and continued in a whisper, “Every day that passes without them knowing weighs me down. We must tell Shade and Even the truth about Sisinta’s horrid soul threads.”
“I know,” Pilder rubbed comforting circles at the small of her back, “but we can’t change anything by worrying. Let’s focus on meeting up with them again.” He blew out the only light—a lantern hanging overhead—and climbed carefully into his hammock. “At least the captain of this ship is nice enough to let us stay on board. Even if he was vague about what cargo he’s carrying and the cost of our fare.”
“I’m worried, Pilder.” Rilla dropped her voice to a whisper and struggled into her own hammock. “Do you think we’ve got ourselves trapped on a smuggling vessel?”
“Maybe. But you happen to be trapped with a renowned spellcaster. That’s an advantage most damsels in distress don’t have.”
“Be serious!”
Pilder sighed. “Okay, yes. It looks bad. But maybe they aren’t doing anything horribly illegal. He said they had to stop at the Keerig Islands before dropping us off. Maybe they’re picking up a shipment of monkeys.”
Rilla glared at him in the dark. Even if he couldn’t see her, he could certainly hear the glare in her voice. “They’d better not be!”
“I don’t know. I think you’d look endearing with a monkey on your shoulder. Like when Shade was a baby and played with your hair.”
“Monkeys are not the same as babies. Horrid stinky things!”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, your uncle had one. It stole the magical amulets off the robes of visiting Paladalls.”
“Yes!” Rilla struggled to sit up in her hammock. “And activated one that set off a tornado in the kitchen!”
“I sense some deep-seated resentment.” Pilder did nothing to hide the hint of amusement in his tone.
“Yes, fine, I freely admit I have a grudge against monkeys.” Rilla lay back down again in her shifting bed. “My uncle’s monkey got me in trouble as a child. I was blamed for its pilfering antics more than a few times.”
“Maybe one day you’ll bring yourself to forgive all monkeys … and me for dumping us on a possible smuggling vessel,” Pilder offered hopefully.
Rilla snorted, but couldn’t stop the smile turning up the corners of her mouth.
Silence stretched into the night around them, heavy and clinging to them like the damp ocean air.
“Rilla?” Pilder’s whisper carried across the short distance between them. “Are you warm enough?”
“I think so,” Rilla responded softly.
“Because if you’re not, I don’t mind making space for you in my hammock.”
Rilla chuckled softly and reached out in the dark. She touched the tough knots of his hammock, fumbling for a moment before Pilder’s hand closed around hers.
After all these years, he still held her heart. If she ever forgot that, his hand found hers in the dark.
“Lord Pilder Duskhand,” Rilla said.
“Yes, Lady Rillanna Duskhand?” She could picture his brows rising in question.
“You are extremely impractical and I love you.”
He chuckled and squeezed her fingers.
Chapter 3
Shipments of Monkeys
The next morning Rilla and Pilder emerged from their quarters and crossed the deck towards the captain at the helm. The Lantern Bearer’s unfurled sails ballooned outward. The rigging went taut and the wind caught the canvas. The ship shot forward, then crested a wave and unexpectedly lurched. Pilder’s hand came out to grip his wife’s elbow as she teetered in place. She flashed him an appreciative smile.
“Ah, if it isn’t the stowaways,” the captain commented as they approached. “I didn’t properly introduce you to my men yesterday, what with the hubbub of your boarding method.” He clapped Rilla and Pilder on their backs and ushered them towards a tidy line of five sailors standing at loose attention.
They did not wear uniforms, and their clothes were dirty but not ragged. None sported a full head of dark hair. The oldest was middle aged and the youngest was tanned to a texture resembling well-browned toast; an unsettling contrast with his pure white hair.
