Chapter 7 #2
“But if the melder remains with us, her craft cannot be used for the Jorvans,” Yanson insisted.
“Her craft should not exist for anyone to use.”
“Can the girl help what the gods placed in her blood?” Yanson sat back in his seat. “I know you tend to place blame on the innocent for the craft the gods gave them, Virki—”
“Careful how you speak, Yanson,” my uncle interjected.
Yanson hinted not only at Lyra, but at Emi. He spoke of how Emi’s own father discarded his wife, his damn soul bond, all from hatred that their daughter had been cursed with bone craft instead of soul.
I was too young to recall most of it, but Virki corrupted his own thoughts into believing the woman who was sealed to his soul would betray him with some faceless Jorvan.
If one half of a soul pairing harmed the one to which they were bonded, it would darken a piece of their soul. Irreparable. It was punished in Dravenmoor.
Virki escaped punishment by using Emi’s rare bone craft as proof enough to cast doubt on his wife’s loyalty. He was allowed to exile his wife to the wilds, and there she died. Alone.
He might not have killed her with his own hands, but to me, what he’d done was unforgivable.
A sealed bond of souls was to be cherished and protected, even with one’s life.
After he banished his wife, Virki had grown crueler. Another sign his soul was stained.
Yanson frowned. “All I’m saying is that we must decide if a woman is to meet the gods because of the power they gave her.”
“Perhaps you have forgotten raids and battles were had all to hunt this woman. Do you not recall the bloodshed? The chaos?”
“I have not forgotten any of it,” Yanson said. “Nor have I forgotten the way our warriors planned to slaughter a child at first sight.”
“You know we tried different tactics before the raids, Yanson. Plans changed,” Sampson said. “Better to send the girl to Salur than have the Jorvans corrupt her craft until they overtake everything.”
“Yet here we are,” Virki said, voice rough.
“On the cusp of war with the Jorvans again now that they know their beloved Death Bringer always belonged to us, and their precious melder lives beyond our gates. Still, we sit here bickering on whether we should let the source of such strife live another day. The woman is a threat to our land, our clan, and our very lives.”
My fist curled over my knee and I took up the quill once more, briskly writing a response.
There is no decision to be made. Lyra will not be harmed.
Virki scanned the response and chuckled. “The woman is the first female melder in centuries. Jorvans will fight to get her back. From what ravagers have said, she is stronger than any melders before her. And we know why. Are we choosing to disregard prophecies of old?”
My gut twisted. True enough, a traveling seer woman had visited the clan when I was a boy. She spoke of death and shattered kingdoms at the hands of the new melder. Since those words were spoken, Virki would never view Lyra as anything but a curse from the gods.
My whole clan would do the same unless they took the time to see that Lyra’s craft was not vicious like Fadey’s use of it. She did not seek power.
Virki drummed his fingers over the table. “We are simply letting her live because our prince wants a hole to stick his cock?”
I shot to my feet and was not alone. More than one man stood, ready to dive between my uncle and my blade. Yanson tugged Virki away from the coil of darkness I had not even realized billowed off my shoulders.
The queen stood. “Enough!”
I slammed one fist over the wood, silencing my mother and drawing every eye my way. In haste, I wrote on the parchment, my throat burning from the silent rage I yearned to shout in their faces.
When I slid the parchment to my mother, she scanned the words first, then proffered me a look of annoyance, as though she wished I could keep as silent as my voice.
Still, the queen read every word to the council.
“ ‘We are here again when it could have been avoided from the start if the first threads of a soul bond had been honored. Do not make the same mistake twice. I am not a frightened boy any longer, and if you think I value any of your lives more than hers, you will soon realize just how mistaken you are.’ ”
For a moment there was silence, heady and potent.
“You would truly kill your own blood, your own folk, for the melder, my prince?” Yanson asked as though he already knew the response.
I plucked the parchment from my mother’s hands and promptly responded.
“ ‘I proved as much at the ravines. I will not hesitate,’ ” she read, voice flat.
“Then perhaps,” Virki said, rising to his feet, “you have no place in our clan or as our prince.”
“Enough, Virki.” Yanson gripped the pommel of his blade. “The prince suffered long enough for Dravenmoor. Why the bond to the woman was restored, only the gods know. What causes me more concern is your swift rush to slaughter anyone who does not stand with you.”
My uncle squared himself to Yanson and shouted, “Our king, my brother, gave his life to keep this clan safe. To protect us from the dark fate of this melder!”
“Enough!” The queen’s voice rattled against the walls, silencing the room.
Only when the men of the úlfur looked to my mother did she go on.
“Lives were lost across the kingdoms over melding craft. I despise the use of melders in Jorvandal as much as anyone, but for all that I lost during those raids, never did I blame a child for her unfortunate lot in life.”
“You sympathize with her, Bet?” Virki tilted his head.
“I do not desire to lose anyone else. Yanson is right: she is behind our walls and out of Jorvandal’s grasp.
Our prince is protective because of their connection, even if it’s not a sealed bond.
I will not kill her simply because we despise the way others manipulate her craft.
Nor would our king if he was here. Vishon’s command was to bring the girl to Dravenmoor, and you know this, Virki. ”
“Commands changed that night.”
My mother’s mouth tightened. “Yes. I suppose the raids changed many things. And I suppose I am changing them all again. For now, no one is to touch the melder. Not until we determine if the woman has committed crimes worthy of death.”
“Crafting soul bones is not enough?” Virki fumed.
“For all I know, she was forced. I plan to find out before I rule on her fate. Now, leave me and the prince. I have much to say to my son regarding his…conduct.”
With a touch of reluctance, the council slowly made their way out of the chamber, closing the heavy doors at their backs.
Elisabet leaned forward, her voice sharp as broken steel. “If you continue to threaten your own folk, I will not have the power to defend what you have done any longer.”
I pressed a hand to my chest and mouthed, Me? Eyes narrowed, I pointed back to her, shaking my head, and formed the word You.
Her jaw tightened when she leaned closer. “You do not know what I have done for you and your precious melder.”
Gods, I’d had enough.
The fury, the betrayal, the seasons of silent hatred for a fate I did not choose bled to the surface. Frigid shadows spilled from every pore. Flames from sconces on the walls dimmed to dripping ink on rotted wood.
The last sight was my mother’s wide eyes before my darkness swallowed her whole and I lost myself.