Lyra
Rosewood bark was harmless unlessit was boiled down to the green center. There was a pale berry in the Fernwood Kael and I nicknamed as venom fruit after we realized the juices caused blisters on our skin. Fire vine, a red-leafed ivy, reacted fiercely with whatever differences divided craft in the blood from folk without magic.
The red flakes in the captain’s palm could be any combination of toxic herbs.
Hatred filled me like flames. I wanted to drive the knife tethered to my calf through the softest point of the captain’s throat. I wanted to watch blood fountain over his lips the same as it had flowed from Vella.
I could hardly draw in a deep enough breath to fill my lungs.
Ashwood never looked away. The swirling gold of his eyes was harsh, like a rogue flame looking for a bit of skin to scorch.
He was the true fiend here. Whatever signal Ashwood gave, the captain merely reacted.
“See to them.” Baldur waved a hand toward nearby guards, and they scattered through the hall.
The Stav were swift as snakes in the grass and blocked anyone in the hall from reaching the four of us, bent and hunched on the floorboards.
Baldur took slow, deliberate steps in front of the hall. “Craft has been revered as a true gift of the gods. The choice to use it in the service of your king has always been yours. So, to be met with such indifference, such deceit, it is a slight in these tumultuous times our king cannot ignore.”
Edvin’s jaw ticked. “You say we are revered, yet now we must submit”—he glanced at Vella’s unmoving form—“or we die?”
Baldur chuckled. “The blood crafter was not truly one of you and brought her own fate. More than her lies, it is believed she used blood spells to weaken patrols, to bring disease to our Stav.”
“You murdered her.” The jagged words rolled over my lips before I could think better of it.
“Ly,” Kael rasped through his teeth, a flare of desperation in his eyes. “Shut up.”
“No, let her speak. I’m most interested in this one. You call me a murderer?” The captain hummed, then held out his hand toward a Stav. A stack of folded parchment tied in rough twine was placed in Baldur’s palm. Baldur flipped one edge of the stack and clicked his teeth. “Do not take my word for it. See her betrayal for yourself, then tell me if you think differently of her, woman.”
I jolted when the parchment slapped against the floor in front of me.
Baldur perched one hip on the edge of a table, taking a slow gulp from a horn.
My fingers trembled, but I opened one folded parchment and scanned the simple words. Locations of river routes, guard rotations,and bone crafters. A knot thickened in my throat like bile. Vella’s name was signed in blood.
“Look at that last one,” Baldur said, tilting his chin.
I didn’t look at the captain; I lifted my attention to Roark. The Sentry was as stalwart as stone save the small curl to his lip when I picked up the last missive.
I saw the scars in her eyes. When the patrols leave Skalfirth, I will see to it that you have her and corruption will die at long last.
I shook my head. “No. This is wrong—”
“The woman was here to find the missing melder.”
“A bloodline that is dead,” Edvin bit out through his teeth. No mistake, the cries of his young ones were grating down his spine, and soon enough the man would snap.
“Yes, the child was supposedly slaughtered when the Draven armies raided,” Baldur said. “Yet there never was a corpse laid at the feet of our king. There was enough reason to believe she was taken and hidden that your king placed blood crafters throughout the realm, searching for a glimpse of melder blood.” The captain lowered to a crouch in front of me, teeth bared. “It is fortunate we intervened, or you would have been turned over to the ravagers of Skul Drek, perhaps the assassin himself. I hear the Draven queen gives the bastard agency to torture as he pleases.”
“Lyra is no melder.” Kael twisted against the guards holding him.
Roark’s face contorted in disgust when he looked down at us.
Baldur took his Sentry’s lead and faced Kael with a bite of controlled rage in his every word. “You, Darkwin, shall have to answer for the secrets you’ve kept.”
I let out a shriek of horror when a Stav kicked Kael in the ribs. He coughed and curled over his knees, spitting bile.
“Stop this!” I made a move to reach for Kael, but my blood grew cold when Baldur’s long fingers curled around my jaw, forcing my gaze to his.
