Chapter 35
35
Roark
“She’s mine.” An embarrassing sting of tears burned behind my eyes. “I felt it. They can’t take her.”
At long last, he lowered his sword—crafted from the black iron of the ravines, a royal blade—and knelt in front of me. “You know what you’re asking?”
I nodded. “I’m dead if they catch me.”
“And that can’t happen.” He blew out a long breath. “If you’re certain, I’ll help you.”
My heart raced like I’d been running for days. “You will?”
“I don’t take such bonds lightly, but this doesn’t mean you can keep her.” His eyes were deep blue, like the tides near the coves. That was why he was a prince; he looked like Dravenmoor. “They’ll never let you keep her, but we can keep her breathing. That’s what it means to claim another soul, you understand? Sometimes you must give them up if it’s what’s best.”
But I wanted to keep the silver-eyed girl. She burned through me like wildfire at the first touch, the first laugh when I slurped back her spoon of water.
It was exactly how Father described Mother once.
“We do this my way or we don’t do it,” the prince said again, shaking my shoulder slightly.
My chin dropped. I was not going to let him see my lip quiver. Wouldn’t be right, and he wouldn’t trust me to stand as his blade ever again if I was some weepy sod.
“I swear it,” I muttered.
“Good.” The prince stood again. “Then let’s take your little melder before we both lose our damn heads.”
I stared at the ceiling. The dreams wouldn’t stop. The closer I stepped into Lyra Bien, the more she haunted my nights.
I didn’t even know if they were real, but something felt real about each dream.
It would be better for us both if I walked away, ignored her as before. I owed a debt that could not be paid, but like in the dream, one glance at her and the roar of something fierce, something dangerous awakened inside me.
Now I’d had a taste and unlocked a deeper need to have more. No doubt, if I gave in, Lyra Bien would consume me—heart and soul.
“Roark.”
One hand shot to the pommel of my sword where it leaned against my bed, only easing back when Emi emerged from the shadowed corner of my doorway. She was in a nightdress, hair free over her shoulders, looking well-bedded and flushed.
Still able to stand ? It’s been some time, cousin .
She shot me a glare. “I heard what happened.”
I looked away. Tomas deserved everything he was dealt .
“I’ve no doubt he did,” Emi agreed. “Yrsa is speaking for Lyra. She’s made a convincing argument about Tomas’s character, but her words are the only thing keeping Hundur tame for now. The two kings have argued the whole of the evening, and I fear Damir may concede to some punishment to keep the peace.”
I made a note to thank the princess the next time we met, then made another vow that if the Myrdan king claimed his punishment from Lyra, he would be found without a head come dawn.
“Hundur is furious and demanding Lyra be turned over to Myrda,” Emi said.
Heat gathered under my collar. He touches her and Myrda will be without a king .
“I was worried you would say that.” Emi’s shoulders slouched. She sat on the corner of my bed. “Something has changed, Roark. Tell me.”
My jaw tightened. I turned away and unsheathed my blade, working on the buckle of my belt. When I tossed the weapon aside, I faced my cousin. Nothing has changed .
Emi scoffed. “Really? Because I thought your duty regarding the melder looked vastly different than what it seems like right now. Not that I’m complaining.”
My cousin was no fool, and I was a piss-poor liar when it came to Emi Nightlark. I looked down at my palms and gestured slowly. I am recalling more .
Her eyes widened. “Really? Do we know the truth?”
I shook my head. Truths have been altered, but I don’t think this is the first time I have met Lyra .
Emi shot to her feet. “I knew it. The gods pointed you to her. Of course it would change your motivation, how could it not? If you’ve met before, then this has happened before, the draw to her. That’s why he helped get her free of the bloodshed.”
What are you talking about?
“Don’t play the fool. I know you’ve felt something. I saw it in Skalfirth. Gods, I felt it .”
What?
“The connection. A sjeleven bond.”
I waved her away, annoyed, but her words dug into the marrow of my bones. Tales of sjeleven—bonded souls—were spoken at marital vows. A sentimental notion that was nothing but dribble to add sweetness to a union.
Still, with the flashes of a past breaking through the shadows, perhaps there was more truth to the myth than I wanted to admit. From the first sight of Lyra, it was as though a dormant piece of my soul awakened and broke through the powers keeping it buried, only to live again near her.
“Roark, you were pulled to Lyra in House Jakobson. Nothing could break your attention away. You even took my longship to keep watch—”
I waved my hand to interrupt, but Emi silenced me with a look.
“You opened your words to her, something you rarely do. You leap into the battles at the gates like it is a personal attack on your home. So, I’ll ask again. What are you doing, and how?”
I am doing my duty. I replied briskly . As always .
“But you’re not.” Emi squared her shoulders. “You seem…freer.”
I hesitated, but nodded. I suppose something has changed .
“It won’t go unnoticed, Roark. That is what has me concerned—you creating enemies on both sides of a wall. With your heritage, the line you must walk is narrow.”
The same can be said of you .
“I hear a few insults about Dravenmoor.” Emi popped one shoulder in a shrug. “Hardly anything worthy of distress. You hold more power, more responsibility, and have more to lose. What do you plan to do with Lyra?”
I closed my eyes for a long pause. Emi would keep my confidence. Never had she broken my trust, and she never would. I was not certain I could even summon a lie.
I would do anything to protect her and keep her from the soul bones .
Emi rested a hand on my shoulder. “Can you give her that loyalty?”
Every day is easier .
My cousin sighed, worry written in the furrow between her brows. “Then perhaps you should tell her, let her know the risks. The truth.”
I need more time .
“If you feel as you do, be wary, cousin. Others will want the Sentry free of his distractions. I would not wait long.”
With a final squeeze to my palm, Emi retreated into the darkness of the corridor, leaving me alone with my tormented thoughts.
Lyra already feared her craft. To tell her the fate awaiting her, without a means to free her from it, would be cruel. I wasn’t certain that was the only truth Emi meant, but it was the one that mattered most.
The more Lyra used her magic for the greedy purposes of kings, the more they devoured the goodness of her own soul.