I leaned forward. “Do you approve of these soul bones, Sentry Ashwood? Of melders?”
I wasn’t certain if I did.
Before Roark could answer, a servant entered. We jolted back as though caught in some sort of scandal. Roark was on his feet in another breath, paces away from me.
The servant cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “Forgive me, but it is time for the feast.”
25
Lyra
Courtyard gardens surrounding Stonegate werealight in golden torches. An open fire pit burned with sage and hickory wood, and long oak tables were arranged with opulent tiered platters of iced cakes, saffron braids, and crisp wafers that were sweetened with honeysuckle.
I smoothed my hands over the blue satin of the gown I’d found laid out on the bed. Not as warm as my woolen tunics and skirts back home, but the breeze around Stonegate did not cut as sharp as the shores of the Green Fjord.
On a dais, tall wooden chairs were draped in black satin. Queen Ingir sat between King Damir and Prince Thane. Each royal bore a circlet made of black iron and in the center was a likeness of the white wolf head.
The queen chattered with her son, ignoring Damir, and the king drank from a golden horn, his eyes locked on one of the nearby courtiers spinning and dancing with partners.
“Ly.” Kael pushed through the sea of fine gowns and tunics. A wide grin painted his face, like he was alive at long last.
My heart squeezed and I could not help but wrap my arms around him and hold him close.
Kael grunted, patting my back. “Not that I don’t enjoy feeling wanted, but what’s all this for?”
“I’ve missed you.”
He chuckled. “We ate the nightly meal together last night.”
“I know.” I forced a grin to conceal the swell of disquiet growing tighter in my belly.
Kael used his thumb to tilt my chin. “You’re unsettled about the ceremony?”
“I wish I’d learned so much more about craft. I feel like I have no choice but to fall into that…place.”
“What place?”
I sighed. “Nothing. Melding is simply consuming at times.”
“I felt that way when I was first learning how to use my own craft. Remember what happened after I helped old Fen go to Salur?”
I nodded. One Jul season, Thorian had gifted Kael and me an old wolfhound. For two summers Fen was our constant companion, until one day the hound stumbled down one of the rocky hillsides near the fjord.
The beast was in such pain, Kael couldn’t stand it.
For the first time, he used his bone craft to decay the bones until Fen gently faded to Salur. Kael grew ill with chills and nightmares for three days.
“It becomes more natural.” Kael nudged my arm. “We might have different craft, but if you give in to it, if you let it flow when it roars within you, I’ve found it becomes as natural as a draw of air. Craft is yours to command, Ly,” he said, voice soft. “No oneelse commands your power, even if it feels that way being here. Stand firm, do not fear it. I believe the magic in our blood can sense it and will not trust us in return.”
I considered the idea for a pause. Fear was potent and sour the few times I’d used my magic. I’d been terrified when Kael was dying, terrified to prove my worth to the king. What if fear made the shadow? A projection of my terror.
With a forced smile, I squeezed Kael’s arm. “You seem at ease, at least.”
“I miss home, don’t mistake me, but I was made to be a Stav, Ly.” Kael looked at the crowd almost wistfully. “No one cares I’m the unwanted son of a jarl. No one cares that I come from nothing. They see me as one of theirs, a part of a great warrior clan.”
Selfish of me, but there was a stab of envy at the awe in Kael’s voice. We’d grown together, and I never cared that Jarl Jakobson disowned him, I’d always seen him as mine.
We kept close to each other, me the silent one at his side, Kael the boisterous Stav who’d earned respect for his skill in the battle of the wall.
