Chapter 42
Roark
The woman’s dark eyes flashed with something made of fire. From docile to vicious in a single heartbeat.
She threw the basket at Gunter and Lyra. “Don’t you dare touch him.”
Not another word was said and she fled, racing away from the longhouse. I wasted no time and sprinted after her.
Fast as she was, I outpaced her in a dozen breaths. She screamed and kicked when my arms went around her waist, picking her up. Damn the hells, she was feral. The woman knew how to attack, and I had few doubts that come morning my hands and arms would be covered in her marks.
Lyra and Gunter hurried after us.
“Wait.” Lyra held out a hand. “Stop. We’re not…gods, we’re not going to hurt anyone.”
“You touch him and I’ll kill you.”
I let out a hiss when she bit my damn hand.
With a grunt I released her. Frustration, annoyance, and aggravating curiosity took hold. Craft prickled over my throat and skin. Another moment and frigid shadows encircled us all.
She screamed, desperate to flee, but was met with cruel crimson eyes in the darkness.
“Please.” Lyra gripped her wrist. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Mother!” A voice cracked from low to pitchy, like it could not determine if it belonged to child or man. Her boy burst from the gates of the farm but stumbled when he took note of the shadows around us.
I gripped his tunic easily and held him in place.
“Please.” The woman fell to her knees. “Please, don’t…don’t touch him.”
“By the gods, we’re not.” Lyra stepped in front of her. “This is my husband. He is Nivek’s brother.”
The woman drew in a quivering breath. She looked to me. “His brother?”
“Meet Prince Roark Ashwood of Dravenmoor, lady,” Gunter said. “Our evil shadow monster.”
Lyra rammed her elbow into Gunter’s ribs. “He’s not evil, I assure you.”
“Depends on who you ask.” Gunter winked.
The boy twisted in my grip. I’d nearly forgotten that I’d stopped him. I released his tunic and held up my palms.
By the time he ran to his mother, most of the murky darkness had dissipated, the hardness of my soul soothed for now.
The woman hurried to her feet, a tight hold on her son’s arm. Her eyes shot back and forth between me and Lyra. “You…you are the outsiders who the seemódir mentioned.” Her attention remained on me. “You are…gods, you look so like him.”
I took hold of Lyra’s palm and spoke, I want to know who she is. Tell her about us.
“The prince uses hand speak. He’s asking about you. No one in his household, I don’t think, knew Nivek had a wife.”
She sniffed and used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. “No. It wasn’t known over the ledges. Nivek believed a bond with an Unfettered would not be accepted.”
They are soul bonded? I arched one brow.
“You had a sealed bond?”
“I thought it was merely his custom for vows. But when a man from his clan spoke the words, something shifted within me. I felt it. I still feel it, merely…distant. He spoke of you.” She smiled, a little despondent.
“He told me of his younger brother, who followed him everywhere and pleaded to join him on his journeys. He told me he wanted to bring you soon. He wanted you to meet Sindri.”
She squeezed her son’s hand.
The boy who looked too much like my brother.
My brother’s son.
A boy we never knew existed.
“Please.” She took a step closer. “I did not learn everything that happened after we lost him. Will you…will you tell me?”
At my nod, Lyra spoke the gruesome tale. From her hunted craft, to Nivek’s bravery, to the division of my soul. Sindri looked at me then, almost a little impressed.
Lyra told him that through my soul craft we’d spoken to Nivek.
“He said if we are not believed then to tell those he left behind that you are inked on his heart, his bones, and his soul.”
Nivek’s wife covered her mouth, and tears filled her eyes. “Those were the words he spoke when our bond was sealed. He said them again when Sindri was born.”
I touched Lyra’s arm. I want to see her marks from the sealing.
“Do you have the soul runes?” Lyra held up her hands, and after a pause, the glimmer of runes coated her fingers.
The woman held up her own hands. There, shimmering beneath the dirt on her skin, was the flicker of runes.
I cursed Nivek in my mind, hoping somewhere in Salur his soul could feel my annoyance at his secrets.
I used my chin to point at the woman. Now her tale. I want to hear everything.
“Roark wants to know how you met Nivek.”
The woman’s voice steadied as she described the first time she crossed paths with the foreign prince. She thought him odd, but she’d been a suspicious Unfettered girl who was leery of the craft over the Night Ledges.
She’d met him when they both were only seventeen seasons. He’d taken his first lone trade route since my father no longer could. Nivek intrigued her when he played a rowdy game with young ones, tossing a pigskin ball about the square.
“Gods, when I met his eyes for the first time, it was as though fire dug out my heart and replaced it.” She smiled a little wistfully. “He did not explain soul bonds for another season, merely teased me, insisting he was irresistible so that was the reason I felt so strongly.”
They’d sealed their bond right after Nivek’s eighteenth season. In secret. My brother shadowed our old soul weaver’s memory of it. He could not tell our clan the truth.
When she finished, no one spoke. What was there to even say? My brother had a wife. A son. He had a soul bond, and he sacrificed his life so I could keep mine.
As though Lyra could feel my damn thoughts, she took hold of the woman’s hand. “Nivek treasured your bond so fiercely, he saved me so his brother could have the same. I am so thankful to him, and we know who took him from you both. They will die for it.”
Sindri’s mouth tightened. “Let me do it. It is my duty as his son to avenge him.”
“Sindri,” his mother warned.
“What?” His fists were trembling. “They took him before I could even know him.”
You will. I did not think before gesturing the words, knowing he would not understand. You will know him because you both have a place in Dravenmoor. You are a prince and the heir of your father’s kingdom.
Sindri’s golden eyes were not as bright as mine, not as fierce as Nivek’s once were, but they gleamed when Lyra explained my words.
“Roark.” Gunter leaned in to whisper. “The firstborn heir.”
Shit. My lips parted. Nivek’s bone would not hold the Wanderer’s power because…there was already a new firstborn of soul craft when he died.
“What?” Jordis said, a groove between her brows. “Why do you look distressed?”
How could I tell her that my nephew would be hunted, the same as the rest of the heirs?
Gunter did not wait for me to respond. He spoke for Dravenmoor. “You and your son are part of the royal house. You will have the protection of the Dark Watch, and, lady, if I may say so, you may need it in coming days.”
Jordis paled. “They want him. I knew it. I’ve always felt something would come for my son.”
Nivek’s fears would still be felt through your bond, I told her.
She rubbed a palm over her heart after Lyra explained my theory.
“You will come with us.” Lyra took her hand. “Nothing will happen to you or Sindri.”
“Don’t know who you think you are, coming here and speaking out against our laws, woman.” Fifteen paces away the burly man who’d shouted at Jordis earlier stood on the path, a pungent paper smoke between his teeth. “They’re not going anywhere. I own them.”
“Own them? Unfettered are not owned, I thought.” Lyra looked to Jordis.
She studied the soil. “After Nivek’s death, I petitioned for help protecting my son. I did not know what was happening. My father and mother had met Salur a season before. Our laws allow protection through debts to be paid.”
“That’s right.” The sod strode closer, blowing a puff of smoke between us. “And lovely Jordis has not paid her debt for her bastard. I’ve told her ways to see it done swifter.”
“And I will forever refuse.”
Does he touch you? I spoke briskly, and Lyra recited the question with a dark heat in her tone.
“Ah, I would, but Jordis refuses. I’d wipe her debt clean if she’d spread her thighs a bit.”
Sindri made a move for the man. I gripped his shoulder, pulling him back, and shook my head. Where I thought the boy might protest, he steadied.
It was possible he saw the flash of ill intent in my own countenance.
“Her debt is vast,” said the man. “Protection for the boy his entire life. Not a small request. She’ll be mine until she meets the gods.”
I took Lyra’s palm, writing my words.
She lifted her chin when I finished. “The Draven prince has an interest in them.”
“Oh?” The man tilted his head. “What sort of interest?”
“It doesn’t concern you.” Lyra spoke like a damn queen. “We’ll pay the debt. What is your name so we know who to call upon?”
“Brokk the Sly.” Brokk blinked. “You’ll pay? For them?”
“You speak to a future king, you sod. Do you think he is not willing to pay for what he wants?” Thane was the one who spoke. “Despite what I’m sure you’ve heard, Dravens are, at times, diplomatic.”
Give me the price, I told him. Not including the seasons she has worked off her debt.
“Well, there’s the matter of the boy’s debt too.” Brokk shifted on his feet, looking at Lyra as she finished reciting my demand. “Two mouths to feed under my watch, use of my blades, it’s double.”
Get me the price by dawn.
“We’ll see you at the dawn,” Lyra explained.
Brokk flashed a wolfish grin. “As you say, Highness.”
His voice dripped with condescension, but his breath shuddered when I crowded him, our brows close. But if you touch either of them again, I will see to it you pay with your soul.
I did not wait for his response to Lyra and gestured for Jordis and Sindri to take the path ahead of me back to the longhouse.
“Although I appreciate the sentiment,” Jordis whispered in a low hiss, “the debt is vast. Brokk is a bastard, but he has many loyal men who would defend him, and he is a skilled warder with blood. That is the arrangement. Sindri will be protected from any harm if he is merely on Brokk’s land, behind blood wards. ”
“We’re not leaving you here,” Lyra said. “Nivek gave his life defending us, and we will defend his family in turn.”