Chapter 3
Roark
Gunter Blackvale was going to die.
Forget our history—friends since the time I could walk—too much time had passed and now the bastard was going to split into pieces on the ravine floor.
Upon the first touch of Lyra, I had the knife I kept sheathed above my ankle in hand. In three paces, I was at his back. And in the next breath, I had my blade pressed against the hollow of his throat.
Gunter had the gall to look stunned.
“What are you doing?” His brows tugged together, and his wild eyes were still the shade of lavender blooms, but now they were filled with a strange sort of wounded heat.
“Get your knife off me. You were never as swift as me, and I’ll prove that truth remains.
What’s with the look? Oh, are you taking some great offense I haven’t addressed you formally? What a snob you are.”
I didn’t understand how the man could have grown so dense, but—still with my blade under his chin—the fool bowed at the waist, his eyes rolled up to hold mine.
“Satisfied, my prince? Now, step back, so I can see her on the rope properly.”
What in the two hells was he doing?
I removed the knife and shoved him away from Lyra, only content to leave her when Emi gripped her arm. Even though I knew Gunter would not understand my tirade, my hands spun and gestured my demands to stay away from Lyra and vows that his blood would spill should he touch her again.
I’d not wanted to reveal my affection for Lyra on the journey forward. No doubt the Dark Watch would still see our bond as something twisted and wretched. I’d planned to keep my indifference until I could safely lock her away inside the royal house and plot a way out of Dravenmoor.
But plans would need to alter course; I could no longer find a reason to care whether the darkness inside bled out.
Gunter watched every signal, one of his palms scratching the back of his neck where his bronze hair waved around his shoulders.
“Listen, I’ve tried to learn some of this”—he waved a hand at my gestured words—“but frankly any ravagers who survive your blade don’t really wish to speak much after.
Seems you’re a bit frightening to them. What’s he saying, Nightlark? ”
I spun on my cousin. Her fingers were still curled around Lyra’s wrist, but the barest of grins teased her lips when she looked to Gunter. “He’s describing all the painful ways your bones will be plucked from your flesh if you touch Lyra again.”
Lyra did not look mortified, not like she had when I’d once demanded a reckless Stav kneel at her feet for her forgiveness.
I dared not allow the slightest hope, but I could not deny there was a buried passion behind the silver scars in her eyes.
Like she might want me to recite more gory promises to my own folk.
Gunter snorted. “Well, I’m going to need to touch her. I’m to tether her to me, after all. Or do you prefer she walks out there on her own with no previous experience? A little ruthless, wouldn’t you say?”
My chest butted against his. I will cross with her.
After Emi translated, Gunter grinned. “Not what my orders are, you ass.”
As though time hadn’t created a divide between us, Gunter patted my cheek, the same as he often did when we were boys. Hard. Then took a step toward Lyra.
She lifted her chin. “I’m not going across the ravine with you.”
Gunter let out a groan and pinched the bridge of his nose like we were all petulant young ones.
“Fine. Suit yourself. I’m cold, my feet have ached since I stepped on a damn thorn before we ever found you, and I had a meet set with Sigrid and her naked body before the Watch was called away.
I intend to keep it the moment we’re inside the gates. ”
Gunter moved aside, waving his arms in a gesture for Lyra to go to me. “Just so you know, Melder, he always was terrible at balancing and rocked the entire tether. But please, choose him. Nightlark! Ahead of me. I’ll keep watch on your back, it seems.”
Emi shifted in disquiet but forced a grin when she faced me. “He wasn’t horrid to me before I ran. He’s not going to toss me off the side.”
My fists clenched all the same.
Gunter took note. “What now? Going to eat me with your dark soul? Didn’t even give me a chance to see it before you went off to bleed, and I’m still holding that against you.”
Lyra’s lips parted, and a heated flush filled her cheeks. “When he…went off to bleed? You mean when his own folk tore him apart?”
By the gods, I could not keep the smirk from my lips. Try to resent me for the secrets kept between us all she wanted, but Lyra Bien was not one to hide when she cared for someone. I took a bit of pleasure being on the receiving end of her defenses. It was another taste of hope.
I would have that woman in my arms, on my tongue, in my soul again.
Gunter chuckled, but there was little delight in the sound.
“Yes, Melder. That’s the day. Life-changing for many of us, you see.
” With a new shadow to his features, Gunter faced Emi.
“Come, Nightlark. As cousin to the prince you’re safe with me, for I still have a long-standing debt that must be paid to him for vital services rendered on my behalf once.
Perhaps he has forgotten how fiercely we Dravens honor our debts. ”
One final narrow glare, and Gunter strode to one of the heavy ropes buried beneath vines of pale blossoms, still damp from the morning mists. Disquiet over Emi burned heady in my chest, but she would need to cross, and I would not leave Lyra.
I would simply try to stay as close to my cousin as possible.
“Are we truly doing this? The slope seems to go on for ages.” Lyra cautiously peered over the edge of the ravine.
Had I not been so near I might’ve missed the subtle drum of her fingers against her sides, a show of the apprehension she fought to conceal.
I ran my knuckles down the back of her arm, waiting until she peered back at me. I vowed not to let you fall.
A vow made in Stonegate the day she met King Damir. A time before I loved her, a promise to keep her upright, bolstered against the burdens of her craft. I meant it then, and I meant it now.
Lyra’s lips pinched. “Don’t do that.”
I arched a brow, a silent question, perhaps a bit of a taunt.
“Don’t speak like…like we are the same as we once were.”
We are not the same. I took a step nearer until my chest pressed to her back. One arm slipped around her body, my fingers slowly gesturing against the place just above her heart. I will not pretend everything has not changed. But my vows never will. I will not let you fall. Ever.
Her pulse was a storm beneath my palm. After a drawn pause, Lyra lifted her chin with the touch of defiance she wore like steel armor and strode to a thick, dark rope. “I’d rather get on with it, then. How do I do this?”
I approached a Dark Watcher and pointed at a tether rope entwined around his belt. The man had a scowl so deep it hid his eyes beneath his thick brows. Sweat carved through streaks of kohl and dirt on his cheeks, and his front two teeth were made of tarnished silver.
After another brisk point, the watcher relented and tossed the rope over to my outstretched hand.
“Better for the clan to hang her from it, my prince,” he said in a grit-soaked rasp.
Heat from rage I’d kept buried prickled over my skin. Words I wanted to gesture and rant would fall on ignorance. I did nothing more than lean closer and clack my teeth, nearly biting the watcher’s nose.
He jolted back, his vibrant violet eyes growing wide in stun.
A frigid breeze wrapped my limbs. The deledan soul—the darker edge of me—fought against the unseen chains I tightened to keep my depravity bound. For this fool, it seemed every piece of me wanted to make an exception.
I took a bit of pride in the way the watcher stepped back. His gaze bounced between mine and the dark coils of a crueler soul bleeding from my skin.
A warning.
A reminder.
I was not good. I was made of darkness.
Lyra watched with a sort of bemused hesitation, a collision of disquiet and delight.
Without a word, I made quick work of encircling her waist with the rope.
“It’s…he’s touching me.”
I lifted my chin. All around Lyra’s wrists were inky shadows, almost caressing her, clinging to her. A desire burned in my chest, screaming to draw her nearer, to devour her.
I finished securing the knot with a yank on the rope, then curled my fingers around the tether and tugged her against my chest. Because all of me is consumed by you.
Lyra’s mouth tightened. I flashed a smug sort of grin and dipped my face closer.
She aimed her regard to the sky, avoiding my nearness, and I could not stop the rough, breathy laugh that slipped up my throat.
The stubborn, beautiful woman kept trying to avoid me and made it wholly obvious she wanted to do the opposite.
It’s true, I gestured where she could read my hands.
Lyra huffed and took a step away. “We ought to keep going.”
We would need to speak on the lies and secrets kept between us, but the way she shouldered away from me, it was clear she had no desire—perhaps no strength—to do so now.
I hurriedly secured the opposite end of the rope to my waist. Most watchers did not cross tethered to a partner, but I would not risk Lyra.
Emi had already stepped onto one of the taut ropes, carefully moving along, her hands gripping the top. Over his shoulder, Gunter flashed his white teeth behind the blue and black smudges on his face. “Wager I still best you in how swiftly we cross.”
Ass. Gunter always boasted he was faster on the ropes when we were boys, but in truth, he always required his father to aid him.
I turned to Lyra, one hand raised. Ready?
“No.” She stretched her throat to peer over the ledge once more without stepping nearer. “But I admit, I’m curious about the debt he mentioned. I cannot tell if he admires you or wishes to defeat you.”
We were once close.
“Meaning you were friends.”
I merely shrugged. When Gunter discovered his cock for the first time, I guarded his door and saved him from his mother walking in before he’d explored long enough.
Through all the pain and fear weighing on me since leaving the Jorvan fortress, I did not anticipate the laugh to take her so abruptly. A loud bark of a sound. Lyra quickly clapped a palm over her lips when more than one Dark Watcher looked our way.
It was the burning gaze twenty paces below us that brought me to pause. The Draven queen. I returned Elisabet’s raised brow with a sharp glare.
I would do, say, and be anything if I could draw out such sounds from Lyra again and again.
In a moment of boldness, I pinched her chin between my fingers, drawing her face to mine, and slowly gestured: Trust me.
“I already did that once,” she whispered.
Well, shit. What more could I say?
I led us to the edge, but when I turned to usher her onto the rope first, my insides plummeted.
Fillip, the Dark Watcher the queen had commanded to lead the caravan away from Jorvandal, raced toward us, a knife aimed at Lyra’s back.
There was no time to think, only to fall into instinct.
Cold, fierce as the frosts on the fjords, enveloped my body. Darkness clouded my vision. Tension snapped—the sort that felt like teeth gnawing through my skin—and broke free of my chest, my throat, my soul.
In the murky shadows that billowed around my shoulders the air filled with Lyra’s screams.