The prince’s voice was low, as though he wanted only his Sentry to hear, but I caught the soft words. “I know the symbolism of the swallowed finger, Roark. That is a damn Draven punishment to those who harm a woman already claimed by another. Take heart no one else cares to study their rituals or you would be blamed entirely.”
By the gods. Roark punished Tomas in a way folk of his clan harmed those who hurt their lovers? I shook my head and split more of Tomas’s teeth.
It was not so taxing as I let on—forced breaths that heaved my chest, false dabs at my brow for sweat that was not there—when I faced the king. “My lord, I’ve done all I can do.”
“No.” Tomas’s words were muffled, slurred. A bit of spittle slid from the corner of his mouth. “I can…cannot speak as I…did.”
I raised trembling palms and swayed on my feet. “If King Hundur is to receive your reward, I cannot do more. I fear I might…stumble.”
I leaned forward. Arms surrounded me. Roark lifted me, holding me against his chest, with the slightest gleam in his eye. He knew the truth and played along in a new role, morbid concern furrowed on his brow.
Gods, the man was convincing, even Ingir murmured to the guards to fetch herbs for a spinning head.
It was cruel, a little vicious, but I refused to undo every stitch of melded bone on Tomas. He was a wretch and he would survive with a jaw that did not extend fully.
“Your decision, my friend.” Damir grinned at his fellow king, dark delight in his eyes, like this was all a game.
Hundur hesitated. “I suppose he looks fine enough, doesn’t he?”
Tomas began to protest, but his king waved him away, instructing his servants to see to it the man was kept comfortable through the rest of the festivities.
“Now.” Damir rose, one arm opened to a Stav holding a black box lined in velvet. “Select your pieces.”
37
Lyra
Silken darkness whipped around me.The phantom of Skul Drek was a silent observer as I melded jagged bones to the Myrdan king’s knuckles.
The tether between us was stronger, but the first rope that led off somewhere deep in the shadows of the mirror land had shredded into something brittle and weak.
Skul Drek said nothing as I worked.
Hundur was vicious and he wanted it to be known. Seen as a threat. Instead of hidden soul bones, he insisted they be cracked into shards with points. A bone crafter was summoned, and he made quick work of shaping the soul bone piece into ten curved claws to be melded on his top knuckles.
I glanced at the assassin. There was no time to be demure. “Why does Damir want the Wanderer?”
Skul Drek shifted and his cold voice breathed against my ear. “Why tell you when you serve a Thief King?”
I had already inferred Damir was the Thief King. Truth betold, I found the title fitting. “I only find the bones for the king to strengthen his army.”
“Making him powerful.”
“That isn’t what I want.” Ribbons of darkness caressed my cheeks like cold fingers. “You seek to kill us on the other side of the mirror whenever I meld bones. What if I helped you, so you could leave us be?”
“You take a soul from its rest, I take one to replace it.” Skul Drek’s thin lips curled.
“You could stop.”
His sneer faded. “Not all is as it seems.”
“I’m sure it isn’t, but I do not want to be a pawn. Help me and no more souls will be taken from their rest.”
“Tell me why, Melder.”
I took a cautious step closer. “I think you might want to. I think…you don’t want to kill me. Do you?”
Skul Drek said nothing, but turned away, looking off into the darkness where his battered, splitting rope faded.
