“Roark. Make your choice,” Emi snapped. “We are out of time.”
He faced the walls, then turned to the mists that looked too reminiscent of the mirror world. Sweat dampened his brow. His skin was pale. When his arms tightened around my body, my heart sank.
“No.” I shook my head, fists curling around his tunic.
You above everything. His words moved against my face.Burn it all if it means you still live.
Roark was not gentle when he bent me across the flanks of the horse. Emi moved even swifter. She reeled around, forcing me upright in a position on the back of the horse.
“Emi, gods, stop!” I tried to shove her back as tears bled down my cheeks.
“Open your eyes, Lyra! There is no place for you here, not a place where you survive long enough to tell whatever it is you know.”
Roark kicked a leg over the horse, settling behind me. I was half wrapped in his arms, half clinging to the mane of the horse.
“Go.” Emi smacked the flank of the beast. “I’ll meet you at the willow!”
Without a word, Roark fled toward the gates. Stav Guard were frantic, most rushing toward the palace, others preparing to seal the gates.
He sat stiff and powerful. To those watching the Sentry race away with the melder, no mistake, it would appear like a sanctioned escape to protect the king’s prize. To me, I heard the rattle of his breaths, felt the heat of blood on his skin, absorbed the tremble of his hand pressed possessively on my middle.
Tears burned in my eyes, catching flecks of dust and dirt as we rode until it was difficult to see much of anything.
Ten paces from the gates and a broken, venomous shout shattered through my heart.
“Roark.”
It was the only voice capable of bringing Roark to pause. The horse snorted and Roark twisted around, peering through the wisps of mists the shadow of Skul Drek kept stirring.
Thane, sweat-soaked and weary, let his sword fall from his grip.
Roark winced, and pressed a hand to his chest, a simple gesture, a plea for forgiveness.
The prince’s face twisted with pain, and Roark Ashwood turned his back on Stonegate, racing us into the wood beyond the gates.
50
Lyra
Sunlight parted the canopy ofbranches overhead when Roark slowed the gelding.
He shuddered and doubled over, knocking me forward across the withers.
“Roark.” My throat was rough and dry from shouting. I scrambled to catch him before he toppled off the side, but merely managed to fall with him.
The horse whinnied and plodded off in a start, circling the copse until it settled for a bit of long grass. My ribs ached from where I’d struck something hard. Roark had landed on his shoulder and his body shuddered.
Darkness peeled off the trunks of trees, gathering from the edges of the wood, from every corner. Thick and cold, a shape was tangled in the billows of pitch—Skul Drek. The shade of his vibrant eyes was undeniable, and there for a mere moment before the darkness shrouded Roark.
His muscles clenched and pulsed, but as soon as the robe of shadows took him, it faded like morning mists.
Roark’s teeth clacked as his body convulsed, his muscles locked. He cracked his eyes and waved one hand, trying to speak.
“What?” I rested a hand on his chest, watching his fingers.
Over and over again, he repeated one word.Fealty. Then lifted his opposing finger.
The fealty bond with Thane. The prince could find me through Roark.
