Warmth from an open hearth stung my skin, and my cheek was pressed against something hard, something sturdy.
Gods. My knees must’ve buckled, and I fell against Roark’s damn chest. His strong arms held me around the waist, my face buried into the embroidered wolf head over his heart. For a moment, I didn’t mind.
For a moment, he was my strength.
King Damir chuckled. With care, and a bit of a tug from Ashwood, I found my footing again. The king dabbed a hand over the thin, sealed scar across his neck. Where blood and opened flesh had been moments ago, now it looked like nothing more than a healing scrape.
The king’s eyes flashed in a new kind of life. “I feel it. The addition of it, the strength of it. It took so swiftly. Not even Fadey could settle a binding so painlessly.” He laughed and clapped his hands, delighted. “How glad I am to have you here, Lyra Bien.”
A few courtiers and mistresses offered a gentle applause, with murmured praises.
Damir placed his hands on my shoulders, nudging Roark to step back. The air was colder without the Sentry so close.
“You will be honored in these walls,” Damir told me. “A crucialmember of the royal house and Stav Guard. I still see the fear in your eyes. Tell me what I can do to ease your worries.”
There was sincerity in the king’s words, his eyes. What was it about melding that brought such peace, such hope, and fear? How was I to find a way to be free of these walls if I did not understand the craft that brought me here?
“I do not know much about melding craft. I think it would be wise to understand it.”
“I agree.” Damir glanced over my head. “Sentry Ashwood, you’ll see to it.”
Roark dipped his chin and nodded. I schooled my features into what I hoped was something unreadable, something flat. Why Roark? The thought was both a fear and a delight, and I could not explain it.
“You and I will speak in my chambers, Lyra. Then you will be given time to adjust to your life here. You will be shown about the borders of Stonegate and train with the Stav. Melding is a rare craft, and should you find yourself unprotected, you must be able to do so yourself.” The king cupped my chin with his large palms. “Your comfort is my greatest concern. The Sentry is under my command to keep you safe, but I’m certain you’ll hardly know he is there.”
19
Lyra
Outside the king’s chamber, Roarktook his place against the wall. I didn’t need to look to know his gaze followed me until the door closed at my back.
King Damir had one hand on the edge of the hearth as he slowly sipped from a drinking horn, watching the flames. The king kept his hair loose over his shoulders, and a pale tunic hung undone from his trousers.
“Lyra.” He grinned. “Come in.”
I kept my hands clasped in front of my body, stopping in the center of the chamber. The space was wide and arched, filled with benches and high-backed chairs covered in soft furs. A chandelier made of antlers was overhead and held at least three dozen tall candles.
“I heard you know how to handle a blade. Apparently, you pulled one on my Sentry in Skalfirth.”
“I did not pull it on the Sentry, Your Grace. I pulled it on myself.”
Damir made a low grunt in his throat. “There won’t be any of that now, am I clear?”
I swallowed with a nod, but said nothing, made no promise.
“I want to speak with you about your duty as a melder without so many prying eyes. But you must understand, to meld brings risks, Lyra. It is the lot the silver scar delivers to those born with the curse. Ravagers of the assassin Skul Drek are often sent by the Draven court whenever a melder works.”
“How do they know, sire?”
“I suspect spies and traitors have something to do with it,” said Damir. “But when you meld at my request, I will see to it precautions are taken.”
“I melded today.” I stared down at my palms as though I might see the gold threads on my fingertips. “Will they retaliate?”
“Perhaps. They seem keener to prevent us from melding soul bones than binding bones. Souls bound to another bring more power, you see.”
Damir returned the horn to a table near the hearth and sat in one of the chairs. The king crossed one ankle over his knee, his gaze never leaving me. “Soul bones are offered to Stav Guard advancing in rank. That is your main purpose as my melder. So you can see why the Draven folk despise you, for you, Lyra Bien, are what makes my army stronger.”
Dread weighed heavy in my chest from the unshakable fear of my own craft, of being tossed into the mirrored land where the shadow and his glowing eyes would at last catch hold of me.
