Chapter 52
Roark
I helped Lyra to her feet and had her crushed against my body in the next breath. Her arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly. She trembled.
Gods. The relief was suffocating. She was here. Alive. It was done.
I didn’t know how long we stood there, clinging to each other, but Yanson was the one to break the silence.
“My prince.” Gunter’s father clasped my forearm in a traditional greeting. “The battle is Dravenmoor’s. You are the overruling voice on this field.”
I wanted nothing to do with this battle for a moment longer. I wanted nothing to do with being a voice of authority.
Stav Guard were placed on their knees, with Dark Watch blades leveled at those who’d survived. Thane looked at his folk with unease.
I released Lyra and raised one hand. Dravenmoor did not fight alone. Thane the Bold will decide where Stonegate’s warriors are held. Yrsa of Myrda will speak for the Shield Riders.
Lyra softly repeated my words.
Yanson dipped his chin. “As you say.”
I looked at the body of Fadey. How I’d despised the man during my seasons in Stonegate. He also resented me, always looking at me like he knew the secrets I kept.
I always thought it was his craft I hated, but it was his soul.
I knelt beside him, and a few murmurs filtered through the crowd when I dipped my palms in the blood soaking Fadey’s broken chest, the gashes on his throat. I dragged my palms down my face, the hot, sticky blood coating the gore already there.
My chest, my hands, I washed them in Fadey’s blood.
A hand fell on my shoulder. Lyra knelt beside me. Tear tracks left long streaks down her face. Without a word, Lyra followed my motions. She closed her eyes and ran Fadey’s blood over her cheeks, her arms, her heart.
No one moved. No one gasped in horror. Our armies merely watched us bathe in the blood of our enemy. A taunt to his soul forever. He could not touch us ever again.
When we stood, I gestured to no one specifically, Take his head. I want it positioned on the wall.
Gunter stepped forward, a wicked smirk on his face. “Gladly, my prince.”
—
We set out to help gather the fallen. Lyra watched in silence as Thane and Darkwin helped stack my uncle’s body with those for who we would not offer proper farewells.
“You avenged your brother and Emi,” Lyra whispered.
My cousin had said nothing about her father’s death. She stood near the pile of the dead. Somber. Unmoving.
With slow steps, I went to Emi’s side. I do not regret his death, I told her. But he was your father. If you feel sadness for his loss, it would be understood.
“It’s not about him. I feel her, cousin.” A small smile tugged at Emi’s lips. “My mother rests now. I am no longer threatened by him and feel as though she is at peace, at last.”
I dipped my chin. And how is Yrsa?
Emi looked back to where the princess stood between a fallen king and queen.
“She only wants to reach her mother. Yrsa and Thane plan to renegotiate the alliances. They wish to include Dravenmoor and the Unfettered lands.” Emi chuckled. “It was true, you know.”
What?
“What Gammal saw all those seasons ago. Lyra destroyed our lands.”
I bristled but paused when Emi shoved my shoulder.
“Let me finish.” She shook her head. “She destroyed the lands because it will all be different now. Our kingdoms have danced along these lines of enemies and weak alliances through marital vows and threats of craft. Lyra brought us together, all of us. We are made of stronger things now, bonds that cannot be broken. The lands we knew before no longer exist.”
Emi took hold of my hand, pulsed a tight squeeze, then left me to join Yrsa’s side.
I looked over the field. Smoke billowed against clouds heavy with unshed rain. White wolf tunics walked beside double-headed ravens as they mourned. For a moment, they were no longer on opposite sides of a battle.
Near one edge, a Shield Rider offered a ladle of water to an Unfettered spearman.
Emi spoke true. The realms of Stìgandr no longer existed.
These lands would be something different. Something more.
By nightfall, Stav Guard had been arranged in half the camp, under the watch of Kaysar and his unit of archers.
Thane spoke with the Stav Captains, working through proper surrenders to ease the disquiet of the Draven armies.
I strode to the edge of the camp where most of the Dark Watch waited near rows of our folk who had not walked off the battlefield.
Sampson fell. He was an ass, but his wife, still in her battle fatigues, silently cried at his side.
Ofan fell near the end. As did the twins’ mother.
I paused to recognize their pain. Auki knelt at her side.
Kaysar was unmoving, one hand to his chest, his eyes closed.
òlmr whimpered, her head on her paws. Brynn sobbed quietly…
against the bulky chest of Kael Darkwin.
He met my stare, dipped his chin, and tightened his hold around Brynn’s shoulders.
I clasped Auki’s forearm. Her soul is at rest.
Auki nodded. “She will see to it that Salur is fully stocked for when we all join her. You know how she enjoyed a good revel.”
He laughed, but it came out more like a sob. I gripped his shoulder, then left them to bid their farewells.
Lyra stood in front of the tallest mound. My mother’s face had been washed, and my wife kept placing blooms around her head with Jordis and Sindri. Dark Watch stood near their queen. Yanson and Gunter stood among a row of warriors with torches in hand.
No one had washed; no one had undressed from battle. Not until our fallen left the field first.
Send them to Salur, I gestured.
Gunter gave a nod to the men and they split across the field, lighting the mounds of those we’d lost.
Lyra held on to my arm. Sindri took my other side, his fingers scratching Kyrre’s big head. Jordis stood next to Lyra, watching as the queen’s mound was lit. We were all that was left. So many in my house had lost their lives, fighting for this moment.
Hatred burned somewhere deep inside. The coil of a soul edged in darkness. But stronger tonight was the desire to make their sacrifices worthwhile.
We would live.
We would be free.