Chapter 11
Lyra
Roark trapped my face in his palms, tilting my head side to side, inspecting for wounds.
“Auki is the one who is injured,” I whispered, my voice haggard from the exertion of using craft and falling into the cold of the mirror.
With a frown, Roark covered the bleeding gash on my waist.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s a scratch. Auki has an arrow in his leg.”
“Do you hear me whimpering?” Auki huffed, fighting a wince when Gunter and Emi gingerly wrapped the leg, avoiding the arrow shaft. “I’ll be as right as I ever was in a few moments.”
Brynn snorted. “He’ll be sobbing once he’s alone.”
Auki cursed his sister under his breath, but it was cut short when Gunter, all at once, ripped the point of the arrow from his flesh. Auki shouted, spitting out cruel words toward Gunter while Emi made quick work of wrapping the wound.
“Told you.” Brynn chuckled, but her grin faded when she looked at Roark. “I made you a vow to protect your bond, and I’ll keep it.”
In truth, their prince seemed more unsettled than anyone. He studied Brynn, and there was nothing warm or welcoming in the tension of his jaw, the way his fists curled at his sides.
She tilted her head. “What? Think I’ve been pining for you all this time?”
“He is stunning.” Gunter winked. “In desperate need of a wash, of course, but beneath all the blood and grime, he’s a sight any woman would be blessed to behold. Said so yourself, Brynnie.”
“I stand by my words, but perhaps instead of gawking at the prince we ought to turn our attention to the fact that we were nearly impaled by damn arrows moments ago.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to hide the tug of a grin. The longer we spoke, the more I enjoyed Brynn Oakbriar. Even if acceptance came with a touch of reluctance.
Roark’s frown only deepened when Brynn drew nearer. He stepped in front of me.
Brynn sighed. “I’m not going to harm her.”
“Told you, he’s forgotten how deep Draven vows run.” Gunter took a seat in one of the chairs beside Emi and Auki. “Said the same damn thing at the ravines, and you’d have thought I threatened to cut off his cock the way he bared his teeth at me.”
The smile couldn’t be helped any longer. I covered my lips with my palm.
“Roark,” Auki said through a wince when he adjusted his leg.
“We’ve waited for your return for seasons.
We’re not here to drive you away or betray you.
” He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily.
“We understand why Nivek was killed, and we want to find the bastards the same as you. No one was ever caught, you know? Nivek deserved to have his voice heard before meeting the gods. What was done doesn’t sit right. Never did. Not with a lot of folk.”
“You might want to decide swiftly if we’re worthy of being at the melder’s side.” Gunter peered out the window. “My father just found poor Máhtte. Gods, did you eat his soul? You’ll be called back to the úlfur, I’m certain.”
I followed Roark to the window. True enough, a tall man with the same shade of wild hair as Gunter helped steady the second archer.
I did not know what was more horrifying, the dead archer bleeding over the briars or the second, whose eyes were dim, his movements more instinct than conscious thought.
Soulless. A shell of blood and bones and a beating heart.
Nothing more.
I want to know who sent them, Roark gestured. The úlfur council just agreed you were to be untouched.
Hot rage laced the movements of his hands. I did not know what to say. If the council agreed to stay my death a little longer, clearly the vote was not enough to guarantee my safety here.
“We’ll learn who sent the archers,” Emi said to her cousin.
“Until then, it might be wise to keep us close to the melder,” Brynn said.
“I do have a name,” I said, my voice rough.
Brynn smirked. “Apologies. Lyra. But by keeping you close with us, it will show that we stand with our prince and you. It might help soothe some of the unease in the clan.”
“Or put blades at your throats.” Emi folded her arms.
“We’ll do the same for you, Nightlark,” Auki said with a grimace and placed a palm over his wound. “Virki will not let you live here in peace on your own.”
“Why?” I asked at long last. “Why risk all this for me, for Roark, when so many believe he has turned his back on your clan because of me?”
Brynn glanced at her brother, who tipped back a new horn. Gunter had taken an interest in tracing a finger over the carvings in the back of one chair.
“Because something is brewing here, something dangerous,” Brynn said.
“We want to know why Prince Nivek was slaughtered without facing our úlfur council. We want to know why you are the melder who brought every kingdom to battle. Not all is as it seems, but we must choose a side. We choose our prince, and that means you.”
Roark waved a hand, drawing every eye. He shook his head, gestured at me, then pounded a fist to his chest three times. A signal that I was his to protect, but more that I was simply his.
“We know you’ll protect Lyra, but you can’t be everywhere at once, Roark,” Emi said.
His lip curled and he dragged two fingers down the taut skin of his scar.
“If you keep yourself divided constantly, you know how difficult it is to reunite,” his cousin warned.
My lips parted and I reeled on him. “What? If you keep splitting, there’s a chance you can’t be whole?”
I will never be whole. It is the nature of the deledan curse.
His words were silent, but I could feel the pain as he said them, like the notion he would always have a fracture within himself weighed heavy on his heart.
Emi frowned. “But it becomes harder to return to you.”
Roark’s brows pulled together. Only if I remain split for a great deal of time. No one knows how long. Could take seasons.
Gods, I wanted to shield the man or strike him. “You will not risk it to find out.”
A touch of something smug, like he’d won some grand victory, played at the corner of his lips. Worried for me?
I frowned and folded my arms over my chest. “I recant. Remain divided. I think I prefer your darker side. He listens to me.”
Roark chuckled, the rare rumble and rasp of his laugh. Gods, how I’d missed the sound. Why are you surprised my depravity worships you?
Low in my belly a shock of heat spread at the notion of Roark Ashwood’s cruelest, most bloodthirsty pieces bending the knee for me. The thought of experiencing him in such a way—no lies, no secrets between us—was a sensual thrill I would keep locked away for my own pleasure.
By the molten hell, what was I doing?
Lives were at risk, and here I was imagining what the hands of this man could do…and perhaps the same of another piece of him.
Auki broke the silence. “What do you want us to do, my prince?”
Find out who sent the archers.
“Consider it done.” Gunter flicked his fingers off his brow in a mock salute when Emi spoke for their prince. “Any idea on how to ensure that more assassins do not make an attempt on our lovely melder?”
Roark ran a palm over his chin, his exhaustion bleeding through. I have a thought, but I must speak to Lyra. Alone.
When Emi did not move to repeat Roark’s gestures, I cleared my throat and spoke on his behalf. “He wishes to speak to me privately.”
Gunter flicked his brows. “I’m sure he does.”
I wanted to correct his insinuations. To talk, to finally bare our souls, was long overdue for me and Roark Ashwood. But Gunter was already across the room with Auki.
Brynn glanced our way, then to Emi. “Nightlark. You’ll stay in my chambers. òlmr never took a liking to Virki.”
I did not know if it was wise for Emi to leave, but she wore a grin when she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and followed Brynn.
Alone, the silence was thick, almost crushing. My finger traced the smooth wood on the back of a chair, uncertain what to say. “Who is òlmr?”
Roark stepped against me, chest to chest. Oakbriar’s fara. I am told they have a fierce bond. If commanded, òlmr will see to it that no one gets close to Emi. He lifted his fingers to my cheek, speaking gently, tenderly. Will you speak with me?
The petulant side of me desired to turn away, to proffer a sliver of pain the same as I carried.
But the draw to him, the pull that never faded, had me leaning in to his touch. Gods, I was furious, frightened, and weary. But I could not deny my craving for this man was wretchedly vibrant, a near impulse to be closer, to fall into the safety those arms once provided.
I lifted my chin. “We both have much to say.”
Roark slipped his fingers through mine and lifted my knuckles to his lips, kissing me there. Then he took us from the room, deeper into the Dravenmoor royal house.