Chapter 23
Roark
The two Dark Watchers dipped their chins and stepped back from the dais in the same moment the hall burst with shouts and inquiries, even a few cheers.
Lyra was frozen where she stood, her skin flushed the same shade as the irritated redness around her new sigil.
Her expression was one I recognized, the look of fright buried beneath a mask of calm.
One she wore when too many found her in a crowd and left her wanting to fade into the shadows as she’d done all her life.
I slid my arm around her waist, a cold burn along the scar on my throat. No mistake, the fear of some voices collided with the violence in my soul, waking the need to destroy anything—anyone—to keep Lyra breathing.
And I was not alone.
In front of the dais, Auki took a stance beside Emi, one of his throwing knives spinning in his grip. Gunter (still eating a slice of herb bread) sneered at our folk like he was readying to play some sort of bloody game, and Brynn stroked the raised hackles of her fara.
“Is this enough, my queen?” In the back of the hall Sampson stood. At his side, his wife desperately tugged on his arm. He shook her off.
I did not watch Sampson. My attention fell to my uncle, who grinned at the man’s side. Sampson had little spine and seemed to crave Virki’s regard.
Whatever came through his mouth, I took as the true words of my uncle.
Sampson prowled for the dais but stopped ten paces away. “Is this enough for you to see the melder is nothing but a risk for our clan? A king killer. You wish us to bend the knee?”
His words added a new layer of unease in the chatter, and frantic voices hummed along the tables, against the walls.
I tilted my head, envisioning the ways he would die.
A fate like Tomas Grisen with his head spiked atop his own spine?
No, perhaps hanging him off the side of a ravine, cutting the rope a little more each day until he died from exposure or the rope split and he fell to the stones below?
I could devour his soul, leave him a shell of a man.
“What say you, Bet?” Virki’s dark rumble followed, calm as the tension before a storm reached land.
Dark Watchers rose after my uncle, some already touching the blades on their waists in case the queen gave the word.
When Elisabet stepped in front of us, my grip tightened on Lyra’s wrist, hard enough to bruise. She didn’t pull away.
“What do I say?” My mother’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd. “I say my daughter did exactly what was asked of her by her clan.”
Unexpected. It took focused effort not to look at the queen with befuddlement. Lyra stared at the hall, doubtless trying to do the same.
The queen chuckled with a touch of venom.
“You must forgive me for keeping such plans concealed. To remove our prince and his soul bond, to prevent bloodshed that would surely come from King Damir’s plans, we made calculated moves very swiftly.
There was not much time, you see. The Jorvan king left us no more than a day before he planned to meld every soul bone in his possession. ”
Elisabet hadn’t known such a thing until the deledan told her what King Damir had planned, that to meld such a great number of bones would’ve killed Lyra. What game was my mother playing?
“What are you talking about?” Virki stepped forward. “The úlfur knew nothing of this.”
The queen didn’t flinch as each sweet untruth crossed her lips.
“After Lyra was discovered, it became clear a bond had been restored. Our prince would never end the melder, nor would she harm him, so I made the decision to bring the melder to us. Her soul clan. There are times when even our úlfur fall into violent biases. I knew she would need to come here, be seen, be trusted before she would no longer be hunted by our folk.”
Stun kept mouths shut and scrutiny on the queen.
“It was discovered that the Jorvan king had much more sinister plans than we thought. With so many melded Berserkirs, Damir was moving to bring battle against our clans—”
“Then we should have met them!” Virki roared. A few grumbles of agreement followed.
The queen merely laughed. “You think so, Virki? Damir had Lyra Bien bound and trapped, ready to force her craft to bind every one of his warriors—including my son—with those corrupted soul bones. How many of you have battled one of Jorvandal’s Berserkirs?
How easily do they meet Salur? To save my clan and find time for a new strategy, I ordered my son’s wife to do what was needed for her people.
Unlike so many of you, it seems, she did not question my word. ”
Damn the gods. The queen spoke with such finality, such fervor, I nearly believed her deceit to be truth.
Elisabet claimed the battle at Stonegate was her own scheme, all to…protect Lyra.
My thoughts were a tangle of affection and mistrust. Had the queen not said from her own tongue that her moves were rarely known by others?
Virki lifted his chin. “I don’t believe you, Bet.”
“How unsurprising.” The queen shook her head as though disappointed.
“You would not have ordered the death of a king without counseling with the úlfur.”
“She did.” Yanson rose from his place at the front table.
Gunter’s tiny sister was in her father’s arm, playing with the beads in his hair.
“Our queen counseled with me and Kaysar, seeing as how we were part of the original plan to bring the melder child to Dravenmoor under Vishon’s order. Isn’t that right, Kaysar?”
The twins’ father tipped back his horn a few places away, then said nothing more but “Aye.”
“Gods,” Lyra said under her breath.
I felt the same. It was both heartening and unsettling how easily trusted members of the úlfur lied to the whole of the clan.
“Tell me,” the queen said, “will you stand against my daughter for being as brave as the god-queen herself and slaughtering corruption?”
“If this is true,” Virki went on, “we still face war. Stav Guard will come against us to reach her.”
“Then cease arguing with me and ready your wolves, Virki.” The queen beamed at the hall. “Take heart: the heir of Jorvandal, from the word of my son, is more prone to negotiate and find peace than his father. True?”
It took a moment before I realized my mother spoke to me.
I gave a brisk nod. We’d never spoken of Thane. She did not deserve to hear of him since her command nearly forced my bloodlust to slaughter the prince. But she was not wrong about his character. Thane would be king of Jorvandal, and the kingdom would be better for it.
My uncle stepped closer to the dais, but Gunter blocked his approach, a snide sort of grin on my old friend’s face.
Virki glowered at the queen, his voice low. “If the council voted upon her death, you would never have followed through, isn’t that right?”
“Perhaps.”
“You would overrule the council’s vote?”
The queen simply leaned forward, holding my uncle’s stare. “The benefit of wearing this.” She pointed to the circlet on her head. “Do not forget that, Virki.”
Elisabet straightened and looked to the hall again.
“This news is more cause for celebration. The souls of the fallen are no longer left for Jorvan corruption.” A few tentative shouts and cheers followed.
“And our Lyra has proven what lengths she will go to protect you, your families, and your loved ones who dine in Salur.”
More whoops and hollers followed.
With that, Elisabet came to my side, squeezed my arm, and spoke low, “Leave the hall, go to my chamber. Both of you. We must speak.”
Without another word, Elisabet abandoned the feast.
“What in the two hells was that?” Emi said in a low hiss.
Games, cousin. I stepped off the dais and held out a hand for Lyra to take, guiding her off the step.
Emi frowned. “Be sure you play them back.”
“I don’t know what happened at Stonegate,” Brynn said, voice low. “But is the king truly dead?”
Lyra took a breath. “Yes. We knew it would be a matter of time before word spread.”
“You killed him?” Gunter’s eyes brightened.
“What do you think?”
“Fadey,” Auki grumbled. “That bastard is everywhere.”
“Yes, and no one in Stonegate knows there is another melder,” Lyra was swift to say. “If Jorvans come for me, it is as the scouts said. They come because they believe I killed the king.”
“Then we better stop them first if they try,” said Brynn.
We must go, I said to Lyra and tugged on her hand.
“We expect to know everything,” Gunter called after us, laughing when I left him with nothing but a crude gesture over my shoulder.
—
The queen’s chamber was warm from a blazing fire in her onyx stone inglenook. Dried herbs kept the air fresh with lavender and meadow blooms. More rooms made up her wing, but once, it had been shared.
A lock still bolted my father’s study shut.
Guilt for destroying him likely kept her out.
Elisabet stood near the flame, the blaze lighting her sapphire eyes like a poisonous inferno.
“I’m certain you’re curious why I told such tales.” She looked at Lyra. “It is simple: you will now be both feared and revered within these gates.”
Lyra didn’t falter under the queen’s watch. “Or those who despise me might have more motivation to return me to the Jorvans for their torture.”
Elisabet crossed the space between us until she was nearly chest to chest with Lyra. “You have less risk on your head if they believe you are a king killer. The clan cannot know Fadey lives, or battles will begin before we are prepared.”
Some know, I gestured lazily and did not face my mother.
When Lyra repeated the words, Elisabet frowned. “Be wary who you tell. We know nothing of Fadey’s power, and I do not yet know how to fight such a man who can lie in wait for so many seasons. Not with Ingir, not with Myrdan armies and Stav Guard.”
“I agree,” said Lyra, her voice soft. “We don’t know what Fadey’s plans are entirely, but I have reason to believe he is growing stronger with Ingir at his side.”
With a touch of reluctance, I retold the experience of Fadey finding Lyra while we searched for bones.
Lyra’s translation left out pieces of the strange bond he’d coiled around her, but I felt it was more because she was wholly discomfited by the notion that he had the power to do it and not from distrust in the queen.
“Dammit.” Elisabet closed her eyes. “For all we know he could be crafting hordes of Berserkirs and—”
I waved a hand, cutting through her words. He is likely still hidden from Thane, so he cannot craft Berserkirs. Thane believes Lyra is the lone melder.
The queen scoffed. “Are you so certain the heir of Jorvandal would not side with Ingir and her plans?”
Yes.
“Hmm.” Elisabet faced the flames again. “If his character is what you say, it will make what must come next simpler. This hunt for the Wanderer’s bones always impacted every kingdom. Even if they do not realize it.”
What are you talking about? I penned the question on the corner of a parchment crumpled over a table in the corner.
My mother wheeled on me. “Are you ready to hear it?”
Lyra looked between us. “Hear what?”
“Truths that are not mine to tell.” The queen narrowed her eyes and faced me. “You have more power over souls than you know. If you are willing to hear their calls.”
A groove formed between my brows. What secrets are you keeping? Do not waste time.
The queen went to a small chest against the wall. From inside she removed a linen-wrapped parcel and handed it to Lyra. “When you meld soul bones, tell me, does your craft reveal severed connections from a fallen soul?”
“Severed connections? Do you mean the threads?” Lyra’s silver scars brightened when she curled her palms around the parcel. “I see threads and…use them to fasten the bones together.”
“Yes, those are connections the soul had in life. I need you to meld this, slowly. Just enough to brighten connections that might seem severed. Then he will find them and draw them forward.” Elisabet tilted her head toward me.
Draw what forward?
My mother studied my hands, listening to Lyra repeat the question. She lifted her chin. “The souls of the fallen. With Lyra’s craft, it will help find the shadowed bonds in the darkness. The bonds that are always there, but you simply don’t always see them.”
“You want him to summon a soul?”
“Yes.” The queen held up one finger. “A certain soul, if you are to gain more insight on your hunt, at least. There is much I don’t know about the power of the Wanderer, but there are answers we can gain from the fallen.”
Slowly, Lyra unwrapped the parcel. A rounded shard of bone marked in simple runes of the heart. “A soul bone?”
“Not exactly. Remember, meld just enough to brighten the remnants of the soul in the bone.” My mother squared herself to me. “Take us, Roark. Do it again. You have more power than you know.”
When I did not move, Elisabet softened her features. “I may never be deserving of your forgiveness, but you must find it within yourself to trust that I am still trying to do all I can to keep you alive.” The queen looked at Lyra. “Both of you.”
“Why do you protect me now when you wanted me dead before?” Lyra took a stern step in front of me. “I don’t understand it. You tore your son apart because he innocently stumbled into a bond with a girl he had never met. Now you vow to keep me safe?”
Elisabet had the decency to hear her out. “When you have lost everything, tell me what you would do, Lyra. We refused to lose another son. His father and I made an impossible choice.”
Don’t bring the king into this, I interjected, taking a step forward. He was not able to make those choices.
After Lyra whispered my response, for the first time since we’d reunited, tears lined the lashes of the queen. I despised them. They dug into my chest, like a blade trying to hack at my ribs to reach my heart.
“You are not ready to believe what I say, but…” She hesitated and stepped close to me. “I hope you know your father loved you. Giving his life so you could live was never questioned, save by me.”
Lyra blinked rapidly at my side, her fingers digging into my arm.
After the tension of silence settled long enough that it was felt to the bones, Elisabet cleared her throat and stepped back. “This is the only way I know how to help.”
“You think Roark can truly summon a soul in the mirror?” Lyra asked.
“I do.”
For a drawn breath, the three of us merely stared at one another.
In truth, I did not know how to summon souls, but I could not deny there was a power radiating from the bone in Lyra’s hands, something familiar.
I looked at the queen and tilted my head. Who am I meant to find when we are there?
When Lyra replied with my query, the queen’s grin widened. “Your brother.”