My palms trembled when I lifted them in front of my face.
Gods, I wished Melder Fadey still lived. The questions I would ask. What was that place? Why did the connection to bone thrust it upon me?
Who orwhatlived in such a world?
I shook the thought away and took up the parchment of symbols and gestures. Craft and kings could wait for now. I held to the brittle trust in Emi’s words that Kael, Hilda, and Edvin were safe. I held to the notion that Damir coveted craft and he would not want to execute three crafters.
They had to be alive, they had to be safe.
I kept reciting the words as I studied gesture after gesture of the finger speak until my eyes fluttered closed, and I drifted into murky black.
The crow of an aggravatingcock blared his morning welcome well before the mists of dawn had faded.
Today was my meeting with the king. I’d been given a refuge for the night—more than I expected—but what became of me after I left this chamber?
I made certain to summon some warm pots of water for the basin and soaked in dried petals and fresh salts until my toes wrinkled.
The wardrobes were stocked in simple clothes, a few shifts and frocks, some tunics and trousers and hose. I took a simple blue dress, a size too large, thin ankle boots, and braided my damp hair down my neck, tying it off with a pale ribbon hung on a hook in the wardrobe.
I’d only fastened the knot when a knock came at the door. I was met with a man’s backside. Two Stav were pressed against the wall, and when my escort turned, my heart shot to my throat.
“Highness.” I dipped my chin, avoiding the sharp, glazed-honey eyes of Prince Thane.
“Is my face so well-known?” he said with a bit of delight. “I’d no idea. I’m rarely afforded the chance to leave Stonegate save for the Wild Hunt each harvest. I might break my precious neck, after all.”
I blinked. “My…Ser Darkwin described you, and I saw you at a recruitment once, several winters ago.”
“Darkwin. Got himself into a bit of trouble with all this, didn’t he?”
“Forgive me, Highness, but he was only trying to protect me.”
The prince held up one hand. “No need to convince me, mylady. He did what a loyal man would do for his family. I’m certain that will be taken into account when his actions are judged.”
Prince Thane had the same pale eyes as the boy skipping stones on the shore. His hair had darkened to a dirty gold, and was shaved on the sides, revealing inked runes and symbols on his scalp. The prince kept a trimmed beard, customary for leaders of the land, and had two bones speared through the lobes of his ears.
Undeniably handsome, but Thane’s smile did not reach his eyes.
“I wanted to meet you myself,” he said. “A new melder. I’m certain you’re filled with utter rage at being here.”
“You mock me, Highness?”
“No.” A bit of light left Thane’s eyes. “Forgive me, Lyra. I’ve been told more than once my jests are spoken at the most inappropriate times.” The prince held out one arm. “Still, if you can stomach me, I would be honored to escort you to the great hall. I’ve a great many questions.”
When Emi said she would not return for me, I did not expect the prince himself would be my guide.
Anger had made me snap at the Sentry, but with the prince, I bit down any glimmer of resistance. In truth, if I wanted to survive Stonegate long enough to find a way to escape it, I’d be wise to bite down even my snarls at Ashwood.
We glided down the corridor. The Stav remained five paces behind, and occasionally Prince Thane would mention a tapestry or two, describing its origins from one of the many provinces until we made our way down another hallway with more arched beams.
“I am glad for a moment alone,” Thane murmured from the corner of his mouth. His voice soft enough, I nearly missed it. “I wanted to meet you after what you did on the journey here.”
“What I did?” Gods, would he punish me for my attempt to flee the camp?
“To the Sentry, of course.”
I wasn’t certain what he meant, but replied with a soft, “I did not intend to put your Sentry at risk in the wood—”
“I don’t think we’re speaking of the same thing,” the prince interrupted, his grin widening. “I’m talking about how you’ve utterly discomposed the tightly stitched Roark Ashwood. If you keep at it, I think you might be absolutely perfect.”
