“I don’t disagree.” Emi’s face grew somber. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened with the fara wolf?”
Doubtful.
“Roark, be careful how you go. With Lyra now in Stonegate, it’s only a matter of time before the clan finds out. Lust for vengeance never dwindled, I told you this.”
I know. My shoulders stiffened.
Emi tugged on the end of a lock of her hair. “Then be wary of getting close to the melder when—”
One wave of my hand cut her off. I jabbed a finger at her and spoke with my other hand.Enough. I know my duty, and I will see it through. I stepped back into the corridor.Now,will you deliver the ledger? I need to meet with the king.
“Gods, I said I would and I will.” Emi hugged the sheets of parchment to her chest, still offering up the aggravating grin she’d mastered so well. “But I’m just saying you’ve never wanted to have anyone speak to you and—”
I’d already started down the hallway.
“There is no shame in it, Roark Ashwood! I support it, in fact,” she shouted, unbothered if anyone in nearby chambers heard. “You could do with a strong woman to give you something to smile about!”
I offered a rude gesture over my shoulder before I rounded the corner, ignoring the snicker of laughter that followed.
King Damir faced the archingwindow, watching the bloody shadows of fading sunlight paint his empire in red and gold. Prince Thane was already in the study, seated next to a roaring fire, polishing a snake-hilt dagger.
Baldur was there, murmuring salacious words at the maiden delivering the king’s mead.
I paused in the doorway and stomped one foot gently, signaling my arrival.
Baldur stilled his rakish hands, Thane stopped polishing the steel, but the king hardly turned his head away from the bubbled glass.
“Ah, Sentry Ashwood. Enter.”
Thane stood and leaned against the wall between me and his father, like a shield. Most folk defended the king, but in the case of Thane, I was certain he was trying to protect me.
“Captain Baldur informed me that your uncanny senses for finding craft have come through for us. I do enjoy that side of a Draven. Always able to sense craft in the soul.”
King Damir squared his shoulders to me. It was a simple statement, but there was a veiled threat beneath it all. Like the king believed I was keeping a skill hidden. I was no great hunter of crafters. There was a distinct pull to the magic of craft. It spoke to the soul; one merely needed to be willing to listen.
But the pull had been fiercer than before when I drew close to Lyra. I knew her from the first plum she’d tossed at my head.
Damir was suspicious and trusting of me all at once. I was a dark blade in his palace, a true warrior, but I was Draven. And that, to the Jorvan king, was always a risk.
The king had a youthful face beneath his long beard, but age had grayed some of his golden hair above the ears. “You’ve uncovered the lost melder?”
I dipped my chin in a simple response.
The king hummed in the back of his throat. “Finally. I assume the Stav Guard will be pleased to know they will once again move up in their rank with new bones to meld.”
“Word is already spreading, sire,” Baldur said. “They are thrilled.”
Thane shot me a look of warning. My face must’ve twisted in a glimmer of disgust.
King Damir spun on me. “Tell me about her. How did she slip away during the raids?”
She does not recall. I flexed my fingers once, twice, then slowly,stoically responded.She was raised in a youth house, then went to work in the jarl’s household. The woman can read, but she knows nothing about her craft. I believe she fears it.
Thane translated my gestures. Unlike the prince, who’d practically invented my hand speak, Damir could not be bothered to learn it.
“And what of this Darkwin? He had plans to join the Stav, but lied about a melder. My son seems to think you and Baldur told the girl he would live if she came willingly.”
I doubted Lyra would see her arrival at Stonegate as willing.
