“Yrsa told me about you, the things you say to her. It is unfortunate your family has such prestige and my father will crave diplomacy. But hear me.” Thane gripped a tuft of Tomas’s hair. “If you are healed, if you can speak again, you say nothing against the melder or the Sentry.
“Refuse and I will see to it a bone crafter snaps each bone in your body, then Lyra will be given the chance to repeat what she has done today. I will leave you on the Night Ledges, where the crows or Unfettered Folk will decide your fate.”
Thane kicked his boot into Tomas’s ribs, revealing a brutality in the prince I’d not seen. Then again, as Gammal told me, one never truly knows another until they see the darkness inside. Then we made the choice to love all their jagged, broken edges or not.
I spared a look at Roark. What darkness lived within the Sentry? It was there, I could feel it—dangerous and beautiful. I’d shown him a sharper piece of my desires tonight, admitted I wanted to slaughter Tomas Grisen.
Roark had not turned from me, even did the opposite by pulling me in and unlocking a new, greedy temptation with his wicked mouth and powerful hands.
Should he ever give up his darker edges, I hoped I would do the same.
“Roark, take Lyra to her chambers,” Thane said. “I will see to this, but expect both kings to have words about it all.”
Blood drained from my face. I jolted when Roark took hold of my hand, gently guiding me up the staircase.
Outside my chamber door, two Stav Guard were positioned for the night.
I bit down a laugh when Roark nearly snarled at the two men until their spines stiffened like rods of iron. If I had to guess, the Sentry was, all at once, regretting his choice to have more bodies near us tonight.
Roark slammed the door behind us. I stepped away, my back toward him, my arms around my middle. “Your men might tell the king if you…if you don’t leave my chamber tonight.”
Gods, did I want him to stay with me?
Yes. I wanted more, and feared what such a desire could bring. Damir would never condone it. Truth be told, if ever I wanted a lover, I had few doubts the king would take me for himself all to keep me close.
The way Damir coveted his melders, it was clear he did not want their attentions distracted by anyone else.
Roark’s slow steps came up behind me. His chest brushed against my back until he gently turned me into him and lifted my palm to his lips, kissing me there.
Too soon, Roark stepped away. Perhaps I ought to have feared such a brazen shift in my thoughts about the man I wanted todespise, but I was drawn to him—a moth trapped in fire-golden eyes.
Without hesitation, I cupped the back of his neck and slammed his mouth down to mine.
I kissed him, deeper and deeper, until sweetness faded to frenzy. Roark’s fingers dug into my hip bones, my back struck the wall. His tongue, his heat, his need pressed against me and I was lost to it.
I raked my fingers in his hair, tousling the dark strands. His teeth scraped along my bottom lip when he pulled back. For long, breathless moments Roark pressed his brow to mine, holding me close.
I lifted my chin when his fingers touched my cheek in his gentle words.I will keep watch on the corridor.
“You already have two men at my door.”
They are not me.
My lips curved into a sly sort of smirk. “A little possessive, don’t you think, Sentry?”
Roark’s hand gripped around my chin, then lowered to my neck, his thumb running along the smooth slope of my throat.More than a little.He pulled one of his palms back enough to say,I should go.
I allowed my palms to slide down his firm chest. “Don’t do anything foolish like turn yourself over to the Myrdan guard all to be some hero to honor my tarnished name.”
I’m no hero.
“Probably best. I never favored the hero in sagas.” I gnawed on my thumbnail while Roark straightened his tunic and smoothed his finger-raked hair. At the open door, I dipped my chin. “Good night, Sentry Ashwood.”
Alone in my chamber, I fell into bed, only to drop into a fitful sleep. Screams, smoke, terror filled the night.
“Go, elskan! Run, keep your eyes down.” The woman’s voice carved through me like sharp glass. My mother. I could smell her—bread and honey and lavender soap—and she was screaming for me to run.
Dreams were timeless. Where the smoke and clang of steel swords had been, now there was only darkness, the chill of the night, and a sharp taste of brine from the sea.
