Chapter 34
Skul Drek
Where was my melder?
Danger, threats, rage. My melder was not at my side, and there were wretched souls who took her. Did they try to darken her soul? I would end theirs if they had merely considered it.
“What have you done? Is this Salur? Damn you, now no one will protect her!”
Over my shoulder a glow was there, a man’s soul, bright as the flames of the stars. Not my melder.
No.
A hateful sort of grin spread when the soul found me in the darkness and had the decency to cry out in fear. Lovely sounds from a prince so bold.
“All gods.” He made an attempt to move away.
I rushed around, stopping a princely soul from fleeing.
“You going to finish what you started, then?”
Brave and bold, this princely soul.
All around, the glimmer and shine of friends and foes kept he and we entangled. Talk would be brief, lest blades begin to open the gates of the gods.
“Where is my melder?” I strummed the boiling threads of gold. The ends faded into the shadows, lost to me.
For now.
“You…you can speak? How?”
“Soul to soul. Where is my melder?”
“Soul to soul?” The bold prince ran his hands across the glow of his form and shook his head. “Your melder? No, no, you cannot have Lyra.”
“What do you see here?” Brow pressed to his, I forced his attention to the webs of my soul, every piece of it belonging to my melder. “Mine, bold prince. My melder is mine.”
“And who are you? Roark? Skul Drek? A demon from the molten hell?”
“I am he, and we are we.”
The princely soul shoved back, and only then did the glimmer of a silver thread take shape between our souls. “You almost sound like I imagine he would. This is corrupted craft, twisted. It goes against the gods.”
“Or does the bold prince only wish it to be? Would it be easier to sour your heart toward he and we if all you see is a monster?” I pounded a fist to my chest. Darkness plumed around us. “I am he, and we are we.”
Why could the princely soul not understand?
Again, I shouted, “I am he, and we are we. We. Are. We.”
A wince, one of pain from the heart, burned in the glow of his soul. “If you are the Roark I know, then I never had a brother. Or have you forgotten the night you tried to kill me?”
A hiss slid from between my teeth. I pulled back, frantic, frenzied. Why? Why did the bold soul not trust what could be seen? Sorrowful words he and we spoke that night, pleading, pleading, for a princely soul not to darken. Did it count for nothing?
Fingers in the mists, I tugged at skeins of darkness.
“Not all is as it seems, bold prince. Stayed my hand against your soul, did we not?” I wheeled on him, drawing our faces near.
“He and we wanted you to live. Pled with my melder to corrupt the bones of the fallen and take a soul to save yours. He and we were cursed to protect the souls of the fallen, forced to vow it, but for a princely soul to remain bright, such a vow did not matter.”
For a moment, the bold prince looked away, torment deepened the shade of his soul. “Perhaps guilt got the better of you to stop the attack, but—”
“Not all is as it seems.” I roared it in his face, tugging at the bonds. “What was no longer is. Bonds do not remain save to my melder.”
“Bonds.” He studied the ropes of gold. “Are you telling me these are chains?”
“Ah, but these chains are made willingly now, bold prince. Once these were not so willing for he and we. Bonds forced our hand.” I knocked my closed fist against the side of my cowl. “Understand?”
“Are you saying you didn’t have a choice?”
Teeth clacked. “Yes. Old bonds forced actions. Actions which might not have been done, like attack a princely soul, had the choices of he and we been free.”
“Why not tell me the truth about…this curse? I would’ve helped you.”
I curled my lip. “Be the bold prince, but do not be the fool.”
“Kiss my ass, you sod.” The princely soul stiffened, bold as always. “It’s disorienting to face you as…the assassin who has attacked my folk time and again. And through it all, you were there. My only true friend, my brother, and you shattered it all.”
I had no time to soothe royal feelings. “To get my melder.”
“Yes. She spoke the same, yet you did not kill her either. Some assassin you are.”
I plucked the burning web of my bond. “She has always been mine, bold prince. For my melder did I become he and we.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Does not matter.” I stepped nearer. “My melder brightens the night, holds my soul, and holds the heart of he. She lives above all. Never will my melder be harmed from these hands.”
“Why would I ever believe a word you say again?”
“Ah, but you already do, bold prince.” I plucked the thin strand of silver between us with the black tip of a fingernail from beneath the cloak of mists. “Or this would not be.”
Deep breaths rose in the princely soul’s chest. “What is it? Get it off.”
A laugh, deep and rough, rolled from my throat. I strummed the fragile thread again. “Brothers once. Not of blood, but of bond. You feel the truth. Will you be the fool or be the bold?”
It took a moment, but soon enough the prince reached out a hand and touched the thread between us.
“Why command Lyra to kill my father?”
I bared my teeth. “Thief King did not fall by my melder’s hand.”
“You hated him.”
“To steal the bones of the fallen, I would take one to replace it. Forced chains were made tighter by the actions of the Thief King. But blood did not spill from the word of he and we.”
“Who, then? I saw his melded bones, Roark. I saw him.”
“Not all is as it seems. Truths must be told if the bold prince will be wise enough to hear them.”
He said nothing.
In the silence, heat thrummed through the bonds of my melder. Night brightened, shifted to something more alive.
“Thane,” a soft voice said.
“Gods.” The bold prince whirled around. “Lyra?”
I drew in sharp air through my teeth. My melder, bright and fierce, stood near the bold prince. I curled darkness around her and pulled her close, drawing my nose against her warmth, breathing in her soul. “I lost you.”
“No.” Her palms trapped my face. “You can’t lose me. Not ever. Through this life and the next.”
Need rumbled in the back of my throat. “I want to taste you.”
“Well, if you please, wait a bit until I am not privy to such things,” the bold prince said. “Ly, I think I have gone to the gods. Nothing makes sense, and yet, I hope it is not Salur.” He looked about. “Quite horrid here. Damp and cold and decaying. If this is eternity, I’d rather not.”
My melder smiled with affection at the bold prince.
I wanted to devour his soul.
As though she sensed the bite of violence, she faced me. “Let him go. We ought to speak with them all, don’t you think?”
“You are there?”
“Yes.”
I tightened my hold around her body, and the feel of her drew out the darkest need, the sharpest lust, the demand for more and more of her.
Still, when my melder touched a strand of the bond between us, cold faded against the sharp bite of a fire’s glow.