“Don’t play the fool. The Wanderer. You’re searching for the bones.”
I didn’t deny it. What would be the point?
Baldur drummed his fingers on the table. “All that trouble in staging my own death, only to be drawn back by a simple woman who does not understand the true power of her craft.”
I swiped my tongue over my lips, tasting salt and blood. “Who are you?”
He opened a hand, gesturing at King Damir’s body. “I thought by the state of him, it would be quite obvious? No? All right, you know me as Baldur the Fox, but the name I was given was Fadey.”
Panic rose in my chest. “Fadey.”
Baldur—Fadey—opened his arms wide, chuckling. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it?”
“But how…the prince, he has known Baldur’s face since childhood.”
“Oh yes. Baldur was practically raised here.”
“But Prince Thane would know if you were not him.”
“Not if I were to become someone new, Melder Bien.” Fadey paused for a breath, as though considering how to continue. “Now, studying his mannerisms from the shadows, that took some doing. With Ashwood’s keen eye always watching, I had to learn with great care how the Fox shifted his tone to how he scratched his cock.”
I couldn’t draw in enough air to fill my lungs. Only short, haggard breaths. He’d stalked, studied, then slaughtered the real Captain Baldur.
“Bone crafters are a lesser magic, but can be rather brilliant when given the chance,” Fadey said. “With Baldur’s true bones after his death, it wasn’t so difficult for Stav Uther to rebuild his likeness on me. Body and face. Painful, but rather impressive.”
“Stupid boy.” Ingir shook her head and aligned the rune chips in front of her.
Fadey nodded. “Uther was a Stav Guard who was found dead right before you arrived. He was quite talented with his craft.”
“Until the boy got greedy.” Ingir frowned.
“Pity.” Fadey rubbed his chin. “Once he began feeling like the allowance he was paid was not enough, he began his baseless threats. Talk like he would tell the king of our betrayal. Such a waste of good craft, but he had to be removed.”
I could not stop shaking. “But Fadey’s body was…it was found. He was tortured.”
“Baldur’s body.” Fadey waved a hand around his face. “I thought I just explained what a talented bone crafter can do. Painful process, but a few pieces of my old features made up poor Baldur’s new, tortured face.”
“The king buried him right outside of my wing,” Queen Ingir said. “He thought I despised Fadey, so it was meant as a slight. Little did that fool know.”
I had felt the darkness of her quarters in the mirror land and beyond it. Baldur’s body was in unrest, no mistake. It billowed pitch-black shadows from his angry soul.
“I was never truly convinced the melder child was dead. I tended to believe the rumors that she’d been smuggled from the raids.” Fadey’s eyes darkened. “For seasons, I worked with zealots, Unfettered Folk, even a few greedy ravagers to hunt down any rumor of a melder. I desperately desired freedom, and you were my way out. Replace me with a younger melder, and Damir would hardly mourn my unfortunate demise.”
I blew out a rough breath. “Then why are you still here?”
Fadey smiled, but there was nothing bright to it. “After seasons of never sensing a single drop of his power, I believed the Wanderer’s bones to be lost to myths and lore. Then the bloodcrafter we assigned to your little village sent word of silver scars in a simple servant girl.”
Gods. Fadey was the man behind Vella’s betrayal; the missives she’d written were to him.
“What did it matter if I was here?”
Fadey scoffed. “You truly know nothing about yourself. Why the very existence of you ended in bloodshed between kingdoms, all to find you?”
I curled my hands into fists. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“InTales of the Wanderer, who was it who taught the first craft king how to meld?”
My teeth ground together. I did not wish to speak a word, but Ingir dug a small knife into the side of my ribs, piercing the skin. I glared at Fadey. “The god-queen. From desperation to stop the greed of her own husband!”
