Chapter 53 #2
Yrsa swiped at a rogue tear. “Myrda stands with Jorvandal.” She took hold of Emi’s hand. “And Dravenmoor. No marital alliance is needed, but one is surely desired.”
Emi kissed the top of Yrsa’s knuckles.
“What of your tentative alliances with the Unfettered Folk?” Yanson asked Thane.
“Exactly that, tentative. The Lawspeaker of one Unfettered clan has once again reached out as a willing ally, if I aid him in trade agreements near their coast.”
Gammal cleared her throat from the back of the room. “Take care which path you choose.”
“That’s not foreboding at all.” Thane chuckled. “Many Unfettered Folk fought with us, so we should keep peaceful trade with them, and it would be diplomatic of me to do the same.”
You will keep us informed? Roark gestured over the table.
“Ah, fretting for me already, brother?” Thane winked. “I will tell you every dull detail of my life until your final days if you wish.”
I chuckled when Roark scowled and insulted the prince with his silent words.
“We have need to discuss the new ascension of the Draven crown.” Yanson opened an arm toward Sindri. “The firstborn of the heir, by our laws, is the future king of the Draven clan.”
Sindri sank a bit in his chair.
“As the wife of our fallen prince,” Yanson went on, “Jordis the Gentle, you will hold an honored position; you will be a voice of wisdom and honor for our future king. In this, Dravenmoor also holds peace and respect for the Unfettered clans. Blood of their blood lives in Sindri the Wild.”
Sindri had fretted the whole of the last week, insisting he did not know how to be royal, did not know how to manage soul craft, and he was only soothed when Roark grew weary of the complaints and dragged his nephew into the mirror.
I would never forget the moment a son was given the chance to summon the thread of his bond to a fallen father.
It was taxing for Roark, and even Nivek’s word insisted it was not the way of things to always summon the souls of the fallen. But he told his boy he was always there, guiding him. All he had to do was trust his own heart and heed the words of those who went before him.
Sindri had been more determined in recent days to rise to his birthright.
It helped when Thane, Yrsa, and the úlfur assured the boy that they would be at his side, friends and mentors as he grew.
Roark would serve as the throne in Dravenmoor until the boy came of age, and Gunter vowed to teach the young prince all he would need to know of soul craft.
Brynn and Auki assured Sindri that he could visit the fara keep anytime he desired, with the hope, perhaps in the coming seasons, that he would bond with his own wolf.
I grinned down the table to where Brynn sat beside Kael. I’d removed half a dozen more soul bones from his body. He had scars across his chin and throat where I’d taken some, but he looked like my Kael again.
His eyes were the same pale blue, bright and joyful.
He laughed with his head tossed back.
He’d even brought his half-siblings from House Jakobson to the Draven palace to meet Brynn and her folk.
Brynn soothed the curse of the berserksgangur that still lived within him. The more I unstitched his bones, the more I knew it always would. Fadey made certain some soul bones could not be removed from Kael’s body without killing him.
Kael hadn’t been deterred.
“There are stronger bonds to hold to than a lust for battle, Ly,” he’d told me and looked to Brynn as she’d greeted Mikkal and Astra Jakobson when they arrived. “I will always have those, and I will always fight to hold them.”
“If you can’t?”
“Then Brynn and I have an agreement with that fara beast of hers. Quite a way to go, don’t you think? The tales I’ll tell in Salur of my lover’s beast tearing me apart.”
There would never be a tale of such things told in the hall of the gods. Kael was too stubborn to fail and leave behind a life he had earned.
“I have something to propose.” Yanson drew my thoughts back to the council.
“I have thought a great deal of the reason this war was fought. It was all for craft. Each kingdom holds a vein of it, but one united them all.” Gunter’s father peered over to me.
“You restored a soul lost to the shadows, you protected our people when we hunted you, and you had the power of the Wanderer in your hands. You chose to give it back to us all, the way the god-queen always desired. Because you and our prince fight for all of us, for our freedom, for our peace, I propose we claim a high court. A high king and queen.”
My skin grew chilled.
He couldn’t mean…
Roark rose. What are you saying, Yanson?
“Yes.” I cracked my thumb knuckle beneath the table. “What do you mean?”
“I want the legendary kingdom of the Wanderer King, and I want you both to lead it. Every realm keeps its power, its sovereignty, but I cannot sit at this table without you both as voices of authority. A king and queen of craft.”
“I stand with this,” Thane said.
“As do I.” Yrsa beamed at me.
“Oh, me too.” Sindri seemed disinterested and responded because Jordis nudged him. “My uncle would be a fearsome king, eating souls and all. And Lyra can unstitch their bones.”
Yanson laughed softly. “What say you? Will you claim a throne? Defenders of the gifts of the gods?”
Roark met my stare, then turned back to Yanson. Where do we go? Where do we live? Palaces have been claimed. Do you plan to build us one, Yanson?
We intended to remain in Dravenmoor, part of the royal house, to help Sindri with his burden.
“Wander.” Thane laughed. “Become the second Wanderer King. I’ll save your old Stav chamber for when you visit.”
Yanson faced us. “Remain here if you like, but I hope you accept the title. The king and queen of craft. I hope you lead here, in these new realms you saved for us all.”
I wanted to sink into the soil when the whole table rose—úlfur, Jorvans, Myrdans, and Unfettered—to stand with me, with Roark. To give us a throne we did not expect, a voice we did not crave, and a crown we did not need.
Is this when I destroy them on your behalf? Roark gestured over my hand beneath the table.
“What do you say?” My fingers knotted in my lap.
I say I am yours, body and soul. Be it in a hovel or a palace.
I swallowed and squeezed his palm three times, a response that I wanted him, all of him. The darkest pieces and the brightest. I did not need a crown, nor a throne. But with him, I could face such a burden. Or I could walk away from it and live just as well.
Together, we looked back at the council.
Together, we agreed.
Together, we would face it all.