Chapter 21
21
Roark
The Boarshead Tavern sat atop a knoll within the palace boundaries. A crooked pipe puffed smoke from the large inglenook, and the sod atop the roof grew wildflowers in the wet months. Tonight, lanterns hung from iron hooks and set the whole tavern aglow against the purple dusk.
A revel was the last thing I wanted tonight. Tension rippled across my shoulders and had for the better part of two days. The sort that felt more like an instinct than annoyance.
There was something coming, and I could feel it brewing. The walls had been too quiet since Lyra entered the fortress. She’d already melded a soul bone, ignited the power in her blood, then bound a jarl’s disowned son to the king.
Something was coming.
Enemies of the king never allowed Damir to bask in his small victories for long. They always knew when Fadey melded, and it was long past time for them to realize the lost melder had been found.
The wolf in the wood was only the beginning.
“You’re hurting my arm.” Lyra tugged against my grip once we reached an arched bower outside the tavern. “The king said I was to be kept comfortable, not dragged around like your personal pet.”
I looked once over my shoulder, and seeing no one, pressed her back to the mossy stones of the wall.
Her lips parted with a gasp and her eyes, darkened with dyes, widened when I crowded her. I flattened one palm beside her head and with my other hand, I gripped her jaw, holding her gaze for a breath.
Her chest rose in harsh gasps, brushing her breasts against me, but she didn’t look away.
Slowly, I pulled back one palm to speak. If the king knew what a fool his new melder was, he would bind you in iron and keep you tethered to his side. Test me again and I’ll see it done .
Her full lips curved up, annoyingly captivating. “And if the king knew his son’s Sentry was such a brute, he might station you outside the wall with the wolves.”
The last word came out in a hiss. A furrow built between my brows. I expected her to catch the anger in my face, not my actual words.
I leaned closer, pressing her body firmly to the wall. How is it you understand me so well so soon?
“That’s what bothers you?” Lyra snorted a laugh. “That I understood your words enough to catch your insult?”
Gods, she was aggravating.
How? My fingers brushed along her cheek.
I’d used hand speak against Emi’s palm, or Thane’s at times, but I didn’t touch others. Truth be told, the thought of it often repulsed me beyond sparring and battle and the occasional tryst.
There was no reason to draw near to anyone in Stonegate.
But brushing a word against Lyra’s skin caused a bit of pleasure to burn in my veins when her breath caught. As though I unsettled her as fiercely as this gods-awful woman was peeling back my ribs, peering inside to see my every secret.
How? I pressed again, slower, gentler.
Lyra frowned. “I’ve studied them. Is that not what you intended when you sent the guides?”
No one has picked it up so quickly .
Lyra’s eyes tracked my hands. When I lowered my palm, she swallowed, her voice went softer. “As I said, must…must be my craft.”
It wasn’t craft. This draw, this dangerous pull, was something more.
I hated her for what she represented. Pain, blood, anger. I hated her for the risks she brought merely by having melder craft.
But another part of me wanted to hate her at a nearer distance. And each damn day the desire to stay away cracked and shed more of its strength.
My fingers curled around her jaw again, tilting her head. Every breath I took was filled with frostrose petals from the oils left in her chamber and sugared honey scrubs in her hair.
Gods, unwanted desire was there, and I’d be wise to remember the risks of getting too close to a melder. She was a tool to be used and destroyed by royals. Nothing more. The fara wolf in the wood was proof Lyra Bien was fated to fall like Fadey. A truth I couldn’t forget.
I took a step back. Since you understand me so well, there is no reason my commands should not be obeyed .
“You are not my king.”
No . I rested one hand on the curve of the crescent pommel of my sword and spoke with the other. But I am the one your king tasked with keeping you alive .
Lyra’s jaw worked for a moment. “You’re so angry I spoke to that woman, but do you know what I think, Sentry Ashwood? I think there is nothing so terrible beyond the gates. A few ravagers perhaps, but caravans and travelers are everywhere in the fortress. How can it be so deadly on the trade roads? I think you and the royal house want to keep me afraid, so I never fight back.”
Gods, this woman.
I stepped nearer, head tilted until my nose nearly touched hers. My fingers spoke against her face. You do not want to test that theory, Melder .
Before she could say another word, I took hold of her arm and pulled her toward the doors of the tavern.
Already, rawhide drums thudded a steady beat in the corner alongside the songbird tune of a panpipe and the plucking strings of a tagelharpa. Too many bodies shoved inside. Folk from across the kingdoms traveled to and from Stonegate for trade, and to catch a glimpse of the capital of Jorvandal.
Mothers with their daughters laughed and daintily sipped from drinking horns near tables. No mistake, until Thane took his vows with Princess Yrsa, the daughters of Jorvandal would be tossed in front of the prince’s feet.
As though Thane had any say in the matter of his bride.
I led Lyra to a back table. A line of young Stav Guard tasked with watching the doors stiffened on our approach, all arching their faces to avoid my scrutiny.
Lyra huffed when I placed her into a chair at the table and snatched a horn from one of the trays being passed around. Ale sloshed over the rim after I pounded the horn on the table too hard.
She glared at me. “I never expected my first revel would be spent hidden in the corner, drinking alone. Might as well take me back to my tower and lock me away, Sentry Ashwood.”
I would love nothing more .
She snorted with derision and took a long gulp, wincing through the bite of the drink, muttering something like ass under her breath.
This would be a damn long night.
“Ly!” The boom of Darkwin’s voice lifted over the heads of the patrons.
Emi stood at Kael’s side, and behind them were the two bone crafters taken from Skalfirth. Truth be told, I hadn’t seen them since arriving at Stonegate. Damir would let them stew in their misery until the next full moon, for the sake of his melder, no doubt, but soon enough they’d be taken up into society to strengthen the king’s influence.
The man—I could not recall his name—looked practically murderous behind his sister.
“Kael.” Lyra waved, a look of relief replacing her disdain for me.
Darkwin paused at the table, dipping his chin with a hurried, “Sentry Ashwood,” then sat beside Lyra. Kael adjusted his new Stav blade with the wolf head pommel and made room for Emi and the other crafters to find a place.
“Hilda.” Lyra took the woman’s hand and squeezed. “How are you?”
The bone crafter woman had dark eyes that collided with the paleness of her hair. They hardened when she lifted her gaze and met mine. “I was torn from my husband after being wed a month.” Hilda pasted a false smile on her lips and peeled her attention to Lyra. “How would you be?”
I did not feel guilt over what was done. That would be reckless and hint that I cared about crafters.
I didn’t.
In truth, I would rather live in a world without any craft at all. Too many wars had been fought for a drop of the gods’ magic. Too many families much like Hilda’s had been upended.
Darkwin did not allow the somberness of the table to last long. Perhaps the side of him that was raised as a jarl’s son was still there. He had a knack for drawing folk to laughter and drink and entertainment, like most jarls saw fit in their oversize longhouses.
Soon enough Hilda was laughing and mocking Darkwin for his overwrought tale of his skill during the day’s training. Her brother’s mouth twitched like he might grin before he hid it through a long draw of ale from his horn.
Emi cut Darkwin at the knees by regaling them with a story of how he wore his leather training gambeson backward for the whole of the first week during his training in the warm months.
Lyra’s head fell back when she laughed, and I did not realize I’d gotten lost in the sound of it until cheers and applause drew my attention to the center of the tavern.
Thane stepped into the hall.
The prince had braided his hair in a ridge down his head and donned his favorite sea blue tunic and was, no mistake, reveling in the endless genuflection of the inner fortress travelers.
Thane was gracious enough to greet most, but the way the prince shouldered through the crowds, he was aiming for the familiar.
His gaze caught mine across the hall, and he smirked before clambering atop one of the tavern tables.
“My ladies, good sers, so rarely do we have such a gathering for a revel in the fortress. You honor us.” The prince allowed a bit of applause before going on. “Now, eat, drink, and be entertained. You are honored guests tonight.”
The moment the prince hopped from the table, drums thundered to life again.
“Ah, here are my friends.” Thane clapped one hand on Emi’s shoulder, the other on Kael’s. “Darkwin, I hear Captain Dahl was quite pleased with you today.”
“I told you,” Kael murmured to Lyra. He grinned back up at Thane. “I’m honored to hear it, my prince.”
Thane took Lyra’s hand and pressed a kiss to the top. “Súlka Bien. Forgive me for not using your proper title.” Thane leaned closer, voice low. “Might bring danger your way, and I’d be left to deal with the grousing of that somber sod at your back.”
Lyra lifted her chin, watching me in the corner of her eye. “I fear it is just what he does, my prince. No matter what joyous thing might’ve happened in the day.”
Thane barked a laugh.
I frowned.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” The prince stole a horn from the table and stepped beside me. “It isn’t as though you weren’t aware of your constant state of annoyance. It is a revel, within the gates, Stav at every door. It would not kill you to enjoy a horn or two.”
It might and that might kill you . I gestured low enough that only he would see. There is tension .
Thane shook his head. “There is always tension. We have enemies who are never appeased and will be less so the moment they discover our lovely Lyra is behind these gates.”
I started to gesture that the feeling went deeper, but Thane was pulled away by Emi to dance. Darkwin was spotted by a bold young woman who whispered in his ear, and in the next moment he followed her to the center of the tavern with other couples.
Lyra sat away from the two bone crafters, sipping on her horn. She looked back at me for a long breath, then replaced Thane’s spot at my side.
“You’ve not taken a drink of your prince’s ale, Sentry Ashwood. Not thirsty?”
All at once a thought—perhaps a memory—snapped through my head like a lash across my mind.
Shadows were thick, only the flicker of golden light from a few lanterns danced across the mossy stones of a feed barn.
Keep low. Keep down.
He’d flog me with his belt if I stepped out of line of his command. He was already in a piss-poor mood since I snuck away to join his march.
“You look thirsty. Have you been lost in the wood?”
My stomach backflipped. I whirled around, yanking a small whittling knife from my belt. I was met with dust-covered cheeks, messy soil-brown braids, and dark eyes with the faintest slash of silver carving through the centers .
“Sentry Ashwood?”
I blew out a rough breath when the memory faded and met Lyra’s befuddled gaze.
She arched a brow. “Are you all right? You looked to be in pain.”
I swallowed thickly and snatched the horn from her hand, taking a brisk drink, and gestured a rough, Fine .
Lyra pinched her lips. “Hmm. Pity.”
In the center of the tavern, a Skald was calling for the attention of the crowd. The woman’s arms were draped in vibrant linens, her head topped with a flat cap, and a spike of bone pierced through the center of her nose.
“Gather round, ye kin of the king. Hear this, a tale of a wicked queen.”
My chest tightened, but I’d learned long ago not to show disquiet. Not to anyone.
“I always loved listening to the Skalds at House Jakobson.” Lyra’s mouth raised in a smile, but when she seemed to realize it was me she’d addressed, she cleared her throat and took a step away. “They always have good tales.”
I didn’t respond and listened to the Skald go on about the saga of a vicious queen who lost it all after she tried to take from a good and honorable king.
“A cruel woman she was,” the Skald sang out. “Sent the heir of her throne to take the first king’s spoils, a place a young princely boy ought to avoid, he should’ve known.”
Stay down. Go . I closed my eyes, barring out the phantoms of a night I hardly recalled.
“What is this tale?” Lyra’s whisper drew my attention. “I feel like I’ve heard it before.”
The Skald barreled on when the crowds chanted and cheered with her. “And oh, what screams rose when the young princely boy lost his pretty head. Raiding he went when he ought to have been in bed. Bloody waters marked the shore, and the queen was sent to the pits of the ravines forevermore. Lost her heir without a care. But everyone from vale to sea knows there is no heart in those who master souls.”
The tavern bellowed with cheers and harsh words leveled at the enemies across the ravines when the Skald ended her tale with a flourish of her hands.
Lyra cast an uncertain look my way. “They should not speak so foolishly in front of you.”
I faced her. Foolishly? Where was the lie in the tale?
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “Is that true? Did the prince of Dravenmoor die in the raid looking for me?”
Many souls died that night .
Lyra’s face paled. “I hate that so much death came because of the curse of my blood. I want to go back to not knowing all the truths.”
She blamed herself? Then again, I had done the same thing for seasons.
As Emi often told me, I might’ve been a bit of an ass.
With a rap of my knuckles on the table, I drew her attention. Lust for power spilled blood that night . Not a girl .
“Well, it hasn’t stopped you from hating me for it.”
For a long, drawn-out pause words died between us, as though her tongue had gone as silent as mine.
She cleared her throat and looked back at the crowds. “All the same, I don’t think it’s fair to Emi or…or you to have folk speak so harshly of your people.”
By the frosted hell, she was befuddling.
I dropped my chin, drawing my face a bit closer to hers. I have no people. Only duty .
“Must be lonely.” Without another word, Lyra scooted down two seats.
I folded my arms over my chest, ignoring the aggravating desire to take the chair at her side for the rest of the revel.
On the last beat of the drum, a heavy thud pounded on the door to the tavern. The crowd hushed when it came again, like someone tossing themselves over and over against the wood.
The tavern matron bustled across the room and flung open the door, mouth opened to berate the one who’d disturbed the tune, but she screamed when a young Stav Guard staggered inside, blood dripping down his lips.
His eyes were wild, unfocused, but his words were clear. “Ravagers…attacking at the gates.”
The Stav fell facedown on the floorboards, and let out a final, gurgling breath.