Chapter 46
46
Lyra
I was Alone in the bed when the pale morning light stirred me from sleep. Still, I knew Roark had slept beside me. The other half of the down mattress smelled of him. I hugged the second pillow, breathing in the dewy forest scent of him before I dared face the day.
I could not shake the unease that no matter what happened, my life after today would not be the same.
Foreboding never lifted, not during a somber morning meal with my two silent shadows. Kael had nothing boisterous to say, a few smiles, a few comments about my lazy braid. Roark hardly met my gaze until commotion in the corridors drew our curiosity.
“What is it?”
Roark held up a hand, inspected the chattering stampede of noble folk and courtiers rushing to the wide window at the end of the corridor. A few ladies covered their mouths, gasping in horror. Even a man or two wrinkled his nose, cursing to the gods.
Roark held out a hand, waiting for me to take hold, then led us to a narrower lancet, away from the crowds, and peered down to the courtyards below.
“Good gods.” Kael’s soft curse blew against my hair when he peered over my head.
Waves of sick churned in my stomach. Displayed over the gates that had been left open during the attack, Tomas Grisen’s head was spiked at the top. Limbs were draped over the walls; ribs and what looked to be a spine were propped against the gate.
It was horrible and gruesome and filled with rage.
And my heart knew.
While others retched and gasped at the sight, there was one who grinned.
Roark’s mouth was set in a look of satisfaction.
I glanced down at his freshly scrubbed palms, to his damp hair, noting the clean scent of his skin. A shudder danced down my arms when he stepped against me from behind. On the small of my back, his fingers moved slowly, giving me time to feel his words, heart-deep.
He lived once after touching you. He opened the gates, believing the Dark Watch would come for you. I could not ignore the insult a second time. Do I frighten you?
Roark’s body crowded mine. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away from the slaughter below. I ought to be afraid, fear the true nature of the Death Bringer. I wasn’t afraid, and I did not know what sort of woman that made me.
I shook my head and squeezed his palm three times. He drew in a sharp breath and covered my heart, gently patting my skin, once, twice, three times.
He was mine.
And I was his.
“We are no closer to a way to keep Lyra free of the soul bones.” Kael paced the length of the sitting chamber. “Though I applaud your…creativity, Sentry, you’ve admitted Tomas did not give up those who made the deal. I think it’s time we get Lyra out of the gates.”
I could not shake the image of Tomas’s mangled form.
I always imagined love meant being willing to die for someone. I supposed it was true. But what no one told young, girlish hearts was sometimes they fell for a man who killed for them instead.
“Kael, the gates are lined with Stav and Myrdan guards. If we try to leave, we’ll need to fight our way out.”
An option , Roark offered.
“No.” I shot him a narrow look. “It isn’t.”
Roark leaned against the wall near the inglenook. I should speak to Thane. He’d distract guards, lie, anything. He does not want this any more than we do.
“He is preoccupied today.”
Then he can speak to the king on your behalf.
I tilted my head. “You believe King Damir will bend on this? He is waging war, not entertaining guests.”
Roark closed his eyes for a breath, then spoke in hurried gestures. He might get him to delay, use the wedding as a reason. At least we would have more time .
Kael squinted, clearly doing his best to follow, and in the end he nodded. “If there’s a chance the prince can help us create a delay, then I agree we should tell him. Even one night could help, Ly.”
Roark made a move for the door.
“Wait.” I shot to my feet. “That’s the decision? No other options? What if Prince Thane can’t meet with the king, or what if Damir doesn’t listen? What then? We have no other plans, and if we have no other plans, what do we do if it all goes awry?”
Words tumbled free in a rush of breath. Roark altered his course and took my face in his palms, soothing the panic with a few strokes of his thumbs over my cheeks.
For a moment we were alone, and Kael was not a silent observer. It was only us.
Roark pulled his hand away to speak. We have no time for other plans . If it does not work, I will take to blades if needed to get you free of these walls .
I gripped his wrists. “That’s what worries me. You cannot take on an entire unit of Stav and live.”
Roark pressed a kiss to the side of my head before gently moving his fingers near my face. No faith in me .
“Bastard.” I pinched his waist. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
My skin was colder when he stepped back, returning to the door. One bell toll. Give me that. If it does not work, we run. By any means .
“I could try to meld. It might not be so taxing. Didn’t Damir say I had more connection to the bones than even Fadey?”
“No,” Kael insisted at the same time Roark shook his head. “Not even worth the risk.”
Roark pointed at Kael, agreeing, then looked back to me. One bell .
My chest tightened with nerves when the door clicked at his back.
“I believe him,” Kael said, studying the door. “After seeing what he did to Tomas, he’d burn Stonegate to the ground if it meant you were safe.”
“I’d like to avoid bloodshed.” I went to the window, unable to keep still.
Outside, folk traipsed the inner gates for the wedding feast, dressed in fine fur cloaks, jerkins, and gold-trimmed gowns.
King Hundur and his queen walked among them, condescending to their jarls and nobles. He still preened over his new melded claws, hardly concerned over the death of Ser Grisen. Hundur never cared Tomas’s jaw had been manipulated; he only cared about being made a fool by the young melder. Today was a time of glory and power for him as his folk and Jorvan’s offered boons to their house with well-wishes that his daughter’s marriage would carry on his glorious line.
Tomas Grisen was nothing but a forgotten name to the Myrdan king now.
I had yet to catch a glimpse of Damir and Ingir.
“I should’ve run with you.” Kael rested a hand on his seax pommel. “I was selfish, Ly.”
“Selfish? Kael, you are not selfish.”
He shook his head. “I wanted to prove Jakobson wrong for dismissing me. Gods, I wanted to rise in the ranks of the Stav so desperately. I never should’ve gone to training.”
“It’s required for every son.”
“I don’t give a damn.” Kael rubbed the back of his neck. “Lyra, I lost my family, but found you. You are my sister and I…I should’ve run with you. Hidden you.”
My face pinched. I flung my arms around his waist. “It isn’t on you, fool.”
Kael hugged me against him. “I still take the blame, pest.”
“Perhaps it is best to face my fate. In here or out there, I will always find those who despise me or use me.”
“Don’t,” Kael warned. “Giving your life for a king’s lust for power is not why the gods blessed you with their magic, Ly.”
I didn’t know how long we stood there, but a rough knock split us. Kael held up a hand, demanding I stay back, and cautiously opened the door.
“Captain Baldur.” He straightened as Baldur shoved into the room.
Six Stav remained in the corridor, dressed in dark blue, the finer threads of their uniform reserved for grand festivals like a royal wedding.
“Stand down, Stav Darkwin.” Baldur did not even glance at Kael. With a bit of reluctance, he dipped his head in a greeting to me. “Melder Bien. I’ve been sent to escort you.”
“She is under the charge of the Sentry.” Kael stepped between us. “We both were tasked by the king, as you heard yesterday, Captain.”
Baldur’s eyes darkened. “And my men and I have been sent as additions, Darkwin. I am not here to steal your duty. Which, speaking of, where is the Sentry?”
Kael hesitated. “He was called away by the prince.”
Baldur chuckled. “Clear to see which duty matters most to Ashwood. Melder Bien, if you would.” The captain opened an arm for the door, frowning when I didn’t move. “What is it?”
“I’m not…certain I’m prepared to meld such a great number of bones. I’ve been feeling rather ill all morning.”
Baldur’s lip twitched. “Much like the king.”
“What?”
“The king has been rather unwell. I have no knowledge if he is delaying the melding. I am not here to bring you to the king. The inner noble houses—which our queen and future queen consider you part of—are gathering in her wing. They would have you join them.”
The queen and her damn luncheons. “The princess is in attendance?”
Baldur nodded. “For a time. To dress for the vows, I believe.”
I cracked one knuckle. “The Sentry will need to be informed of where we’ve gone when he returns.”
With a grunt of frustration, Baldur gestured at one of his men to seek out the Sentry. “May we leave now?”
I did not know how else to stall. Tension eased some knowing Yrsa would be there, knowing the gods might’ve taken pity on us and Damir’s health might delay his rank melds.
Kael drew close to my side, never wavering, and we followed Baldur and his men into the gardens that were built off the queen’s wing.
Most of the windows in Stonegate were placed in Queen Ingir’s wing to let in the sunlight. To counter the dull shades of rugs and tapestries, the queen had small tables evenly spaced down her corridors topped in glass bowls with floating flowers to add a touch of color.
Bright as it was, I did not care to venture to this side of the palace. In the mirror world, the darkness was always thickest here.
Baldur led us into an open room near the back of the wing. Humid air brushed my cheeks—scents of silken blooms, damp soil, and rain filled each breath. Glass doors took up the whole of one wall and towering indoor vines with dewy blossoms and herbs crawled up the walls from painted pots. Delicate wooden tables were positioned to host numerous guests.
All the tables were empty.
Queen Ingir bent over one of her herb pots and poured a trickle of water from a small ewer.
“Ah. Melder Bien. You’re safe. How glad I am to see it.”
My heart bruised my ribs. “Is there any reason I wouldn’t be, Highness?”
Ingir’s red-stained lips curled. She said nothing, but Baldur spun on Kael, a narrow dagger leveled under his chin.
“What are you—” Kael’s words cut off when Baldur nudged the point of the blade deeper, drawing blood.
“Stav Darkwin, you are to be tried for the murder of Ser Tomas Grisen, a nobleman of Myrda.”
“What!” I tried to reach for Kael, but another of Baldur’s guards pulled me back. “He didn’t. No, stop. He had nothing to do with Tomas’s death.”
Gods, where was Roark?
Ingir’s gentle hands curled around my shoulders, drawing me close. “I know, my girl. It is troubling to hear, no doubt.”
“No!” I tried to shirk her hands, but the queen only tightened her grip. “He did not do it. He was with me the whole night. Stop.” My voice grew shrill and desperate when a Stav kicked at the back of Kael’s leg, knocking him to his knees.
They rid him of his blade and weapons in the next breath.
“I did not kill him,” Kael gritted out.
Baldur chuckled. “You are a known liar, a man who ought to have been tried for treason for hiding the melder. Why would I believe you?” The captain turned toward me, a cruel grin on his face. “Keep him in chains until we see if someone else might give him a chance for a different fate.”
The five remaining Stav surrounded Kael. One clamped a set of manacles around his wrists. He shoved. “Lyra! Go. Get to him. Get to him.”
He was telling me to run, to find Roark. Something was horridly wrong here.
I screamed Kael’s name when the guards dragged him away under the command of their captain. I writhed and tugged and clawed.
Queen Ingir hissed when one of my fingernails scratched over her hand. She shoved me aside, but Baldur was there to catch me.
The grin was wicked, ruthless. Every bit as cunning as his namesake of fox.
My eyes narrowed. “He did nothing.”
“I’m sure he didn’t.” Baldur curled a hand around my jaw, squeezing. “But the queen is the authority of Stonegate, and whether he lives or dies now rests on your shoulders.”
I trembled. “Where is the king?”
“We’ll get to that.” Baldur lowered his hand, but kept a firm hold on my arm. “I’ve wanted to truly meet you for some time, Súlka Bien. We’re long overdue for a discussion. Listen closely now, lives may depend on it.”
Queen Ingir’s eyes had grown hateful and hard. When Baldur dragged me deeper into her room, toward one of the far tables, she looked more like a feral cat ready to lash out at the slightest movement.
Crates were stacked beside him. One lid was cracked, and inside were soul bones. Marked and prepared to be melded, bones by the hundreds were in piles inside each box.
Baldur took me around a tall beam coated in tangled ivy. A scream cut from my chest. My knees weakened.
I could not take my eyes off his mutilated face. King Damir was sprawled on the stone floor, unmoving, clad in his finest clothes. Fingers were melded as one, his skull was flattened so his chin was soldered to his breastbone. Open wounds bled through gashes in his gambeson, like he’d been pricked and scratched dozens of times.
My blood grew cold enough my body shivered.
The king was dead.