Chapter 32
32
Lyra
Cottages wouldn’t be ready for Edvin and Hilda until the dawn. I gave up my bed to Edvin’s three young ones while Edvin and Freydis took furs on the floor beside them. Gisli and Hilda laughed in my sitting chamber with me and Kael over mead and sliced plums.
Gisli told us about the despair in Skalfirth after the raid. Jarl Jakobson had not left his longhouse until now, and it seemed old Thorian thought the man deserved his anguish for not intervening for his son.
Kael said little about House Jakobson or the fine his estranged father had offered to entice the king to spare his life.
When the bells rang a midnight toll, Gisli and Hilda left with Kael, and I tried to find sleep beneath a soft quilt near the inglenook of my sitting room.
My fingertips touched the edges of my lips, as if I could feel the warmth of his breath, the nearness of his features. Good gods, I’d nearly kissed the Sentry.
I flattened my palm over the steady thud of my heart, the corners of my mouth curling. Roark Ashwood was beautiful mayhem. Austere and impassive, then aimable and gracious. He was a storm rolling off the tides, but I could not find the strength to run.
Instead, it seemed, I stood at the water’s edge, willing the gale to devour me.
From the glimmer of the next dawn to the twinkling twilight, debauchery filled the gardens, corridors, and halls of Stonegate. King Damir promised a celebration and he delivered mightily.
With Hilda and Freydis at my flanks, we strode through the courtyards with courtiers and ladies. Queen Ingir took the head along with Breetha, the Myrdan queen.
Hilda would not stop beaming, and it lessened the dullness of the evening.
She could hardly contain her joy knowing she would share a house with Gisli again. He was a talented woodworker, and I had few doubts he’d find work aplenty in the fortress.
When the queens settled beneath a bower lined in fresh blooms, other ladies found spots to soak up the last rays of sunlight. I wanted nothing more than to return to my chamber to be free of crowds.
“Lyra.” Freydis took hold of my hand. “We’re to see one of the cottages the king has given us before the feast. Care to join? Or must you remain here?”
My shoulders slumped. “I’m not permitted beyond the gates without an escort. One who happens to be missing.”
I’d not seen Roark the whole of the day. The man did not speak out loud, but his absence had become thundering and aggravating. Whatever affection I festered for the Sentry, I’d be wise to crush it before the king, or Kael, or worse—Roark—found out the truth.
“Pity you can’t join.” Freydis placed a hand on my arm. She was a gentle woman, from her features to her temperament, so it was unnerving when her lips curved in a sly sort of grin. “But I don’t think it will be so terrible to stay behind. You’ve caught someone’s attention.”
A man, from the colors cascading over his tunic I guessed a Myrdan, shifted on his feet, occasionally looking my way.
My palms started to sweat.
“Surely he’ll escort you back to the palace.” Hilda winked.
Before Stonegate, we’d been nothing beyond friendly, chatting at market stalls or in the great hall. Through all this, we’d fashioned a new bond. One where I was not the servant of the jarl, but we were simply two women who looked out for each other.
But I cursed her now.
The woman I thought I could trust took Freydis’s hand, grinned when the young Myrdan took a step my way, and turned to abandon me.
“See you soon, Lyra,” Hilda said through a muffled snicker, then disappeared with her sister-in-law down a set of stone stairs leading to the lower township.
“Súlka Bien,” the man said, voice smooth and light.
My heart stalled. With a soft breath through my teeth, I faced him.
I said nothing, merely held his stare, feeling a fool. Never one to know how to act in front of strangers, I was more accustomed to growing silent, invisible. Nothing but a bit of the foliage in the background.
He swiped his tongue over his lips, and grinned brightly. “My name is Tomas Grisen. Son of King Hundur’s fallen seneschal.”
“My sympathies.”
Tomas lowered his chin. “The raids took many lives.”
Dammit. Another house with blood spilled at my feet. Still, he didn’t look at me with anger, more demure interest.
“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said, “but I have been looking forward to meeting the new melder.”
“Oh?” A prickle of defensiveness rolled up my arms.
Tomas held out a hand, perhaps a little taken aback by my abrasive tone. “Yes. I, well, one of my ancestors was a melder in old wars before the kingdoms were so divided. I’m not a bone crafter myself, but I find all magics fascinating. Did you know, it has been centuries since a female melder was born?”
“I didn’t, only that it has been some time,” I said, intrigued despite myself.
Tomas nodded vigorously. “Many sagas believe the female melders have stronger craft. Tends to connect deeper with their gentler souls, I suppose.”
If only he knew an assassin’s shadow drew me in whenever I slipped into the mirrored lands of the fallen.
“I wouldn’t know.” I clasped my palms in front of me. “I’ve only recently been introduced to my craft.”
Tomas flushed in a bit of embarrassment. “Of course. Forgive me for rambling. I’m merely awed by melders.”
I took a step back. “Well, I must dress for the feast. It was good to—”
“Allow me to walk with you.”
I wanted to be alone. There were few whom I enjoyed walking with to my chambers. Kael, Thane when he was mocking folk under his breath, Emi, and Hilda. And Roark.
My insides tightened. Gods. Roark was fast becoming a constant, comforting presence.
Before I could summon up a word of refusal, Tomas had threaded my hand through his arm, and strode with me toward the palace doors. He spoke fondly of craft and Myrda, lauding his accomplishments, even going so far as to say if Jorvandal did not have a prince, he would’ve been a candidate for Yrsa’s hand.
Pleasant, but pompous.
We crossed into the front hall, me speaking a handful of words, and Tomas having said much more.
“I would love to escort you through the Myrdan glades, Súlka Bien.” Tomas flashed a white smile. “The Grisen lands are surrounded by endless knolls, quite lovely countryside.”
“I do not think I would be permitted to leave Stonegate, Ser Grisen.”
“With our position in the court,” Tomas said, disregarding my words, “anyone who dared disrespect you would be punished. I would personally see to it. I would see to it you had the finest gowns.”
“How thoughtful.”
Tomas beamed like he’d won some great victory, utterly missing the bite to my tone.
“Any lady would see it as an honor to be a guest of the second-most-powerful house in Myrda.” There was a bitterness to his tone. After a breath, Tomas softened his features and smiled. “I suppose that will all change with this betrothal. You serve the royal house at Stonegate, but Myrda is soon to be tied to that house. I am certain your craft will be shared across borders.”
Unease slithered low in my belly. I did not care for being seen as some sort of possession merely because of the blood in my veins.
King Damir saw me as such. Now, it would seem, so did Myrda.
“Thank you for walking me,” I said, unthreading my arm. “I can manage from here.”
“It is no trouble. I can walk you the rest of the way.”
I didn’t want Tomas of Myrda to know my chamber door. “Thank you, but—”
“Lyra!”
Gods, a swell of relief bloomed like a second heart in my chest. Prince Thane strode down the corridor, already dressed in his fine clothes and polished boots. Bruises still marked his features from the attack, but he was a great deal more like himself.
Tomas bowed at the waist. “Highness.”
Thane greeted the man with a flick of his brows, then turned to me. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Melder Bien, but your presence is needed elsewhere before the feast.”
“Oh. Of course.” I took a step closer to the prince.
“Súlka Bien.” Tomas held out a hand between us. “I hope you might do me the honor of sitting with me.”
“Afraid she’ll be considered an honored guest, ser.” Thane took hold of my arm, tugging me against his side. “She’ll be at the high table.”
“A dance, then,” Tomas said, the slightest snap of irritation in his tone.
“Perhaps,” I said in a rough breath as the prince bid a prompt farewell and spun us away.
When we were around the corner, I snorted a horrid-sounding laugh, stumbling against Thane’s side.
“Gods, Lyra.” Thane nudged my shoulder. “How do you manage to attract such odious company? Tomas Grisen is one of the haughtiest men in all of Myrda, according to Yrsa.”
“Aggravating men simply find me.” I nudged him back. “Some rescue me.”
“I shall take that as a compliment.” Prince Thane used his chin to direct me toward a winding staircase that would take us to his wing of the palace. “You have truly been summoned. Before the tedious chatter suffocates us at the feast, come have a bit of enjoyment.”
“What are you talking about?”
Thane winked and flung open the door to his chamber. I breathed a sigh of relief. Emi stood near the tall, arched window with the princess.
Here, I was simply Lyra. I did not need to be the melder.
“Lyra.” Emi waved. She kept the black fur cloak of a Stav Guard on her shoulders, but underneath was the fine blush-dyed dress she’d purchased at the silk merchant. Her lips had a touch of color on them, and she’d added gold bars through holes in each of her earlobes. “Come meet Yrsa before your time is stolen. Thane thinks you both will get on.”
“Of course they will.” The prince sauntered to a table with ewers and polished wooden drinking horns.
Yrsa’s brown skin had been painted in gold shimmers and her dress reminded me of the star plum skin—silver over sea blue with a cloak made of furs dyed to appear as honey over her narrow frame.
“Princess.” I bowed my head.
“Yrsa has shirked her ladies by lies and deceit all to debauch with us,” Thane said with a laugh.
Yrsa clasped her hands in front of her stomach and looked away shyly. “You know how fitful I find travel. My insides are not well at all. I suspect I have a bit more time before someone tries to enter the washroom to check on me.”
“And until then, we drink and laugh and avoid the masks we wear.” Prince Thane handed Yrsa a horn of pearly wine. “For you, my bride. Nightlark, what will you take? Lyra?”
I waved a hand. “None for me. Not sure I could stomach it tonight.”
“Unsettled by people again?” Emi touched my arm. There wasn’t judgment in her tone, more a call to arms to those in the rooms to keep me in their sights.
“She ran into Tomas Grisen.”
Emi’s nose wrinkled. “Arrogant ass.”
When Thane offered a sort of salute with the second drinking flute, as if to say he understood, a wash of affection bloomed in my chest. They ought to be my enemies, but I found a sort of belonging here, in this room, with these people.
Yrsa tilted her head, smiling my way. “So, you are the melder.”
“I am.”
“You saved his life.” Yrsa gave the prince a tender smile. “You don’t know me, but I thank you for it.”
It was heartening to see a genuine fondness between an arranged match. They hadn’t shown affection through touch, but the smiles, the comfort with each other being near, it was clear Yrsa and Thane held each other in high regard.
“I was not alone,” I admitted. “Without Sentry Ashwood I wouldn’t have known the prince was injured at all.”
Thane chuckled and looked over his shoulder. “Did you hear that? Something else to get all haughty about. I wish you hadn’t said it, Lyra.”
Heat and a strange pinch to my chest fought to double me over when Roark emerged from the prince’s bedchamber, securing his seax on his belt.
Gods, he was captivating. Like a warm memory.
Tonight, his eyes were brighter than a sunrise after a rainstorm. His hair was freshly braided on the sides, and the oakmoss scent on his skin was a beautiful tether, drawing me nearer.
Roark’s mouth was set into a smug sort of grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
With one hand, he lifted my knuckles to his lips, then with the other gently spoke against my cheek. Red suits you .
“Oh. Thank you.” I patted at the simple woolen gown, dyed a rich crimson. My heart bruised my ribs, as though I no longer knew how to be around the Sentry. “I don’t know what to say,” finally slipped out in a low breath.
He tilted his head. About what?
“What you did for Edvin and Hilda, for bringing their families here.”
Roark seemed to gnaw on the words. You were right when you said they ought not be punished for the actions of others. Craft should not deny you the people you love .
My throat tightened with emotion. I refused to grow weepy, and Thane seemed to agree.
“All right. Enough, the both of you.” The prince heaved himself onto one of the fur-lined lounges and crossed his ankles. “Yes, Roark is magnificent, but we’re not here to watch him grow insufferably conceited. He already does it enough.”
Roark knocked Thane’s feet off the edge of his seat.
The prince was undeterred and raised a horn. “We are here to celebrate our own rebelliousness and distaste for being flaunted as the tools of two kingdoms.”
Princess Yrsa laughed at something Emi said. Roark stood at my shoulder, and I found I wouldn’t mind if he came closer.
The levity ended too soon, when a servant announced we were to dress. The first star had brightened the sky and the feast would soon begin.
Emi invited me to dress with her and Yrsa. I took advantage of the offer, continuing to laugh after we entered the princess’s bedchamber.
“Oh, Lyra.” Yrsa covered her mouth once I stepped around the dressing shield. “You are stunning.”
The fabric of my first commissioned gown was the color of a green sea. The sleeves were split, revealing most of my shoulders, and on one side, a slit opened to my upper thigh. Carved bone beads were stitched along the bodice in the shape of the gods’ tree. Yrsa was skilled in braids and had maneuvered half my hair into tight rows along the sides of my scalp, leaving the rest flowing down my back in long waves.
“As are you.” It was true. Both Emi and Yrsa looked made for royalty.
The princess wore a gown of delicate gold lace, her lips painted to match, and more shimmery powder lined her dark eyes.
Emi kept her hair long over her shoulders. She chose Margun’s black satin, but it was a trick of the eye. Every step past a sconce with a flame, and the ebony skirt shimmered in midnight blue.
Emi stood guard by the princess with me behind them until we reached the corridor near the great hall. Roark waited for us outside the double doors. The princess entered the hall, chin lifted, Emi at her back, and I was left to enter with the Sentry alone.
Roark’s verdant gaze took in my dress, then blinked as through a fog back to my face.
I tightened my grip on his hand for a breath, then two, until he offered an arm for me to hold instead.
“Don’t let me fall in there,” I whispered.
Unlike the first time we stood beyond this doorway when Roark said nothing, he took my hand and lifted the back to his lips. I did not blink, watching until his mouth met my knuckles.
When he pulled back, he traced one word against my palm. Never.