Broken Souls and Bones (Broken Souls and Bones #1)

Chapter 13

13

Lyra

The Stav rose with the dawn. I woke to Roark’s boots stomping out of the shanty at the first song of the morning birds.

He was replaced in the next moment with Stav Nightlark.

Her eyes sparked with something like annoyance, but Emi said nothing about my poorly executed escape, nor the blood that painted the chest of the Sentry as he strode past.

Emi supplied me with fresh hosen and an oversize tunic the color of forest moss. A strong scent of leather and harsh soap was wrapped in the threads, but to peel away from the brine-crusted hem on my woolen dress sent a shudder of pleasure down my spine.

She held up a cloak against the corner of the shanty, giving me a moment to scrub away dirt and sweat from the journey. “You’ll be given time to wash fully before greeting the king once you reach Stonegate.”

I nodded a wordless thanks. No one was required to give me even a bed to sleep in, but Ashwood had done it, even after I fled, even after he’d tamed a damn wolf to save my neck. Nightlark did not need to take a pause to bring clothes or cool water to wet my skin, but she did.

It was disquieting how their actions did not fit into the simple vision of what I imagined. Cruelty, indifference, perhaps chains around the wrists and neck.

“Darkwin is outside.” Emi folded the linen, her gaze turned away.

I whirled around, still lacing the front of the tunic closed. “Kael’s here?”

“The Fox arrived with his men not long ago. The other crafters are alive and horridly somber.”

My jaw tightened. “Couldn’t be because a father was torn from his young ones, and a new bride was taken from a husband who adores her, could it?”

Emi shook her head. “Do not pretend any of us had a choice in this, Melder. Do not pretend you didn’t nearly make their lives more unbearable.”

I swallowed. The brisk, jagged edges to her tone gave up the first hint at how Emi Nightlark managed to stand as a respected Stav, Draven blood and all.

She stomped across the hut, kicking up dust and a few pebbles as she went. When her chest butted mine, she looked upon me with a narrow gaze. “What I can do for them—if you will allow it—is offer advice as a bone crafter torn from everything she knew. You are not the only ones who’ve lost family.”

The desire to look away was potent. I held steady, giving her the decency of my attention, but a sheepish heat prickled up the back of my neck.

What did I know about the two Dravens in the Stav Guard? They were in a foreign land, serving the enemies of the clan of their births. How did they come to be under King Damir’s rule? Perhaps that was why Roark softened around Emi—they might’ve been all the other had from home.

I looked down, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of the tunic. “I merely want them safe. I do not know how to keep them alive when I do not know what we’re facing by the day’s end.”

Emi let out a sigh. “Then I urge you to listen to us. Sentry Ashwood is honorable. He said he would get you to Stonegate, and I now believe he will.”

“Did you not believe he would before?”

She smirked. “I didn’t think he would risk his own neck against a fara wolf which did not share a bond to him, no. But like the Sentry, I said I didn’t want Darkwin or any of you dead, and I meant it. I can offer the bone crafters guidance to their new lives in Stonegate. I could do the same for you if you would stop being a damn fool and stop risking your own neck in the wood.”

With one finger, Emi signaled for me to join her near a narrow gap in the wall. “Look upon those trees in daylight.”

I hesitated for a few breaths, then went to her side and peeked through the cracks in the daub between the laths.

Mists glided through the edge of the clearing. The trees were black and silent, gray clouds darkened behind the rich emerald leaves. Bursts of fiery orange clashed against the dreary bark and stumps with sea moss or blooming shrubs. But dripping shadows slithered across limbs and branches like dark serpents. Beneath the morning light remained a heady foreboding about the wood.

Darkness reigned here. Step too deeply beyond, and it would swallow you whole.

“It takes no time for wanderers to lose themselves, fall into the jagged ravines, meet the teeth of hungry fara wolves, or freeze until their skin is blackened and blue. There is a reason elders call these trees draugaskógur ,” Emi said, a hidden smile in the corner of her full lips. “The Phantom Forest. War and battles have brought too much death in these trees not to leave them a bit haunted.”

The disorienting lure of the trees, the honeycomb of earthen paths, the tangle of branches and briars, all of it had drawn me in like a doe caught in a hunter’s snare.

“The Sentry managed to find me swiftly.” I turned back into the small room, gathering in my arms the dirty dress I’d worn on the ship.

“Because no one knows these woods like Roark.” Emi stopped in front of the canvas doorway. “It is one reason why he holds his rank. Despicable as you find us Draven folk, we are taught from our first steps how to use signals in the trees to find our way, how to speak to the very soul of the forest. The ravines that divide the kingdoms are heavy with woodlands. It is where we learn to survive, or die.

Emi handed me a leather satchel to hold my old clothes on the rest of the journey. As I secured my dress inside, I lifted my attention back to her. “Do you miss it? Dravenmoor, I mean.”

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I miss the wildness of it, the trust my clan has for the land and the gods. But there was no longer a life for me there.”

“Why not?”

“You trust me so little, yet expect me to give up my whole past?”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I turned away. “You’re right. Your business is your own.”

I slung the strap of the satchel over my head, securing it on one shoulder. Before I could move for the door, Emi placed a hand on my arm.

“I was born with the wrong craft. Bone craft is not meant to be found in Draven blood. My father believed my mother must’ve been unfaithful, even managed to get her tried as a traitor, calling her a whore. She was banished, and not a full season later one of our hunters found her body half-devoured.”

“All gods.” I gripped the strap of the satchel, fighting the urge to take her hand for reassurance, almost like a brief urge to befriend the woman.

From beneath the thin mattress Emi gathered a knife I’d not realized was there and secured it inside her boot. “When a few more winters passed, I realized I no longer had a place in Dravenmoor. Roark was already established in Stonegate, and saw to it I was brought behind the walls. Is that enough of an explanation? We best be off soon.”

Emi slipped around me, clearly finished with her tale.

“I don’t remember the raids. I don’t remember my mother and father.” The admission spilled over my lips before I could think better of it. “Only in my deepest nightmares do I hear the screams and smell the blood. Someone took me away—I can almost hear his voice—but I don’t know who it was.”

One corner of Emi’s full mouth curved when she looked over her shoulder. “Seems we all have broken paths that have led us here. What if this is exactly where the Norns intended for you to be, Melder?”

I frowned. If the Norns kept me alive all so my fate would place me in captivity within Stonegate, I rather hated them.

“So,” I pressed once we stepped into the morning light, “what brought the Sentry to Stonegate?”

“That is his tale to tell. You’re quite nosy when you start speaking.”

I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth to muffle a soft chuckle. “I’ve seen little of the world; naturally, questions will arise. What was the reason you finally left Dravenmoor?”

When Emi faced me, her lips curled in a sort of snarl. “I had to flee.”

“Had to? Didn’t you say you were young when you arrived at Stonegate?”

“Only fourteen.”

“They drove you out?”

“I ran before they could.”

“What happened?”

Emi’s eyes flashed with a touch of malice. “I tried to cut off my father’s head.”

With a wink, more condescending than kind, Emi slipped past me and entered the camp.

The bustle of Stav Guard was alive with curses and bawdy talk. Water splashed over the sound of palms slapping at bare skin as the guard tidied themselves for the king’s court. Boots stomped, and spitting grease hissed and crackled over the snap of flames.

“Nightlark!” A guard, bare-chested and staggering near the fire, waved at Emi. “I signed up to watch your back near the creek should you wish to bathe. I’d even watch your front if you’d like.”

Some of his nearby Stav brothers chuckled.

Emi didn’t flinch. She turned to the guard, a smirk on her lips. “Ah, Henrik, I’m not interested in helping you practice.”

The Stav grunted, palming himself over his trousers. “Trust me, I’ve no need for practice with this sword.”

I fought the urge to groan. He reminded me of the aggravating stable hands at House Jakobson, always so impressed with what they had between their legs.

Emi pressed a hand to her chest in mock relief. “I’m so relieved to hear you’ve improved. Last I heard from the madam at the Golden Wing, her girl Asha felt rather guilty taking your florin. Said you were quivering like a pup, so worried you might put it in the wrong spot. The way I hear it, all you got for your coin was a kiss on your sweet little brow.”

Henrik’s fellow Stav howled and shoved his shoulders. His face flushed and his smile faded. “That’s not true.” He pushed the chest of one of the laughing men at his side. “Had her screaming for more, I did.”

“Of course.” Emi flashed a condescending grin. “Of course. Still, if you’d like, I can draw you a guide on the proper holes for next time.”

With that, Stav Nightlark took my arm and urged me in the opposite direction of the laughter and taunts about why the guard’s dalliance with the woman named Asha had ended so abruptly.

“I am one of few women in the Stav, Melder. The others are old and serve as advisors.” Emi locked me with her sharp gaze. “In Stonegate, learn swiftly how to hold your blade and keep your wits. You are a melder, a survivor. Do not let these sods make you forget your power. Learn to use your voice, understand?”

I paused, a little stunned, but nodded slowly. If a woman from Dravenmoor could earn the respect of men like Baldur and Ashwood, I would do the same. Melders were valued by the king. A curl tugged at my lip. If I was of value, it meant I had leverage.

My service for Kael’s life. I would demand it.

Lines were forming for the departures. Supplies were draped over shoulders in fur and leather satchels.

My gaze landed on Kael’s messy golden curls. Without a thought, I rushed for him. He was upright, the sun-dusted bronze of his skin returned, and a grin split over his mouth when he saw me.

Kael’s wrists were bound in heavy irons, but the chain between them was long enough he could open his arms to embrace me.

“You pest,” he whispered against my hair. “Everyone’s talking about how the Sentry had to go drag the melder from the trees and he returned soaked in blood. Use your head, Ly.”

I pulled back, eyes narrowed. “I needed to save you, fool.”

Kael rolled his eyes and flicked my shoulder as he always did when he was annoyed with me. “What did I say? This is not a game, Lyra. We belong to Stonegate. Now we must focus on how you survive in there.”

“Not just me, Kael.” My voice dropped low enough, I wasn’t certain he even heard. “You are to face the king, exposed as the one who kept melding craft from his hands.”

Kael folded his arms over his chest, the chains clinking with the motion. “I’m not as worthless as you think.” He held up a finger, ticking off each word as he spoke. “I have bone craft. I am a skilled fighter. I am of legitimate noble blood. And Jakobson apparently offered a payment to keep me from slaughter.”

“What? The jarl…offered payment?”

Kael sniffed and looked away. “Disown me in name, but it seems the sod has some sort of affection for me. Nightlark told me before Baldur left, the jarl paid a fine with the request for the king’s mercy. So, stop risking your bony neck.” He glared at me. “As desperately as you want me to keep breathing, remember I feel the same about you. No more idiotic plans, no more pissing on the Sentry’s limited generosity. At least not without telling me.”

For a moment, I said nothing. Slowly, a grin crept over my features. I nudged Kael’s ribs with my elbow. “Accomplices?”

He looked down at me like he did not want to indulge me, but it took a mere five breaths before Kael chuckled. “Accomplices always.”

“By the way, I’m quite proud of you.”

“Why is that?”

“You finally called Jakobson a sod.”

Our levity lasted a moment longer before a shadow crossed over us. His presence was a force, a silky darkness that lifted the hair on my neck and turned my insides. But the maddening piece of it was I wasn’t certain if they overturned out of disgust or intrigue.

Kael straightened out of respect in the same moment I looked over my shoulder. “Sentry Ashwood.”

Roark had washed the dirt and blood from his face and wore a clean, black tunic. In his hands were a set of chains much like Kael’s.

Emi stepped around the Sentry. “It’s time to be on our way. You’re to be bound, for your own safety, Melder.”

I snorted, but bit down on the tip of my tongue. Arms outstretched, I didn’t look away as Roark bound the iron around my wrists. His molten eyes poured into me when he gripped the chain and tugged me against him.

His hand was near my cheek when he spoke, slow and sharp. By me .

I grimaced. “As you say, my lord Sentry.”