Keep the Stav looking elsewhere and they rarely cared to look such a common woman in the eye.
“A great many have come,” Selena muttered.
Kael nodded. “Captain Baldur’s unit. I’m surprised. They’re the fiercest. Threats against the prince’s betrothal must’ve increased.”
It was no secret, Dravenmoor would not want a true royal match between kingdoms. Jorvan royals wed Myrdan nobles, but this was the first union in nearly a hundred winters where a Myrdan princess was of age and title to wed a Jorvan prince.
I’d seen the prince only once before, during my fourteenth winter when I was tasked with aiding Thorian with the fishing trade in a nearby township. While there, the king’s caravan arrived to recruit a bone crafter into the Stav.
Thorian led me to the docks once our business was done, and as we’d pulled away from the shore, I caught a glimpse of the prince. Only a few seasons older than myself, Prince Thane had been draped in fine white fox furs, surrounded by Stav Guard, tossing pebbles into the tides.
He’d seemed so utterly bored.
Thane had caught my gaze as our ship peeled out to sea, and shouted, “Watch me skip it, my lady.”
Without knowing me, the prince addressed me like noble blood ran in my veins. Then like all boys my age, rife with arrogance, the prince tossed a pebble, bowing with a flourish when the stone skipped four times before sinking into the tides.
I blew out a breath and stepped closer to Kael. The prince had been kind as a boy, but the Stav today looked nothing of the sort.
Each man was dressed as though he might be meeting the front lines of battle in his dark tunic embroidered with the whitewolf head of Stonegate. Scattered throughout were servants and attendants who carried satchels and stuffed leather packs for gathering any weapons we traded.
“There’s Baldur.” Kael used his chin to point out the man at the head of the line.
Baldur the Fox was broad and stern. His beard was not yet to his chest, but he kept it knotted in a single plait secured with bone beads.
The captain was known for his fealty and ferocity, both in battle and in life. Young for a Stav officer, but he moved like a man who’d lived for centuries and had no patience for people around him.
Baldur stopped to greet Jarl Jakobson. Kael’s unclaimed father was a handsome man, strong and skilled with the ax. His peppered beard was trimmed, his hair sleek and tame around his shoulders.
But even standing half a head taller than the captain, Jakobson seemed to shrink beneath Baldur’s sneer.
“Come,” I said, urging Kael to help me finish the cakes and saffron buns for the feast. “We don’t need to watch men puff out their chests to compensate for lack in other areas.”
Kael flicked my ear. “No one will want to take you as a wife if you speak so boldly.”
“Perhaps I will not want to take on a husband if he cannot meet the challenge.”
“Fair enough.”
A few gasps and murmurs drew me to a pause.
“By the gods, the Sentry is here. Why?” Kael spoke with a touch of delight. “Ashwood is incredible with the blade, Ly.Incredible.”
Next to Baldur, another man shoved his way through.
All along his hood and shoulders were crimson stains. I recognized the cowl, the very stride of the scavenger from the wood. My stomach lurched. No. By the gods, no. The thief was no thief at all.
To some, Roark Ashwood was named Death Bringer. He and his blades were infamous. Known as the Sentry, Roark rose in power in Jorvandal from boyhood for his unique talent with the sword. Adopted as a child from Dravenmoor, some believed he was less the silent guard for Prince Thane and more the assassin for the throne.
I’d never seen him, not personally, only heard the whispers of how brutally he would kill to protect his royals. But watching him shove to the front of the line, there was almost a familiarity about the man, a sense of his power that peeled back my ribs and settled into my soul.
And the truth was, I’d assaulted the most dangerous man in the kingdom.
5
Lyra
Thoughts pummeled through my skullin quick succession.
