The prince never came.
I hurried up the wide staircase to my chamber. More than one drifting thought of the Sentry stole its way into my head.
“Lyra!” Hilda, skirt clutched in her grip, raced up the stairs at my back.
“Thank the gods.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “Has Edvin gone with the Stav?”
“Only to the inner gates.” Her eyes were blown wide. “Do you know what’s happening?”
“Roar—the Sentry said it means Dravens were spotted.”
Hilda kissed her fingertips and pressed them to her head in a swift prayer. “Stav were headed into the wood. No doubt, they’ll keep them as far from the walls as possible, like they did last time. Gods, I thought Stonegate was meant to be the safest refuge in the kingdom.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Perhaps it was before the damn melder was dragged inside.
Emi materialized around a corner at the top of the stairs. She was clad in her dark Stav Guard tunic, but her hair was let down her back in soft, pale waves, not braided in her typical slick plait. “Roark told me to see that you listened. Good thing he sent me, for I see you have not.”
Damn that man. “I was going until Hilda found me.”
Emi’s sly grin ticked at her mouth. “Seemed rather unnerved at the thought of you being unprotected.”
“I don’t know why you’re saying it in such a way.” The tips of my fingers tingled. “He doesn’t want to be reprimanded by the king, I’m sure.”
“You’re probably right.” Emi took a step toward the wooden staircase leading to my chambers. “Shall we?”
When we got to my bedchamber, the room all at once felt too small. No matter how much idle talk the three of us offered up, thick silence always followed. I leaned one shoulder against the wall near my window, peering down at the commotion below. Stav Guard were aligned and orderly, even around the stable doors below.
Where was Kael? Edvin? Where was Roark? Doubtless the Sentry would be drawn to the heart of all skirmishes. He was Roark Ashwood, skilled enough to be named the Death Bringer of the kingdoms.
I peeled away from the cold glass. Why was I even fretting over the man at all? He wore a constant scowl and looked at me like he couldn’t decide if I ought to go headfirst out the window or down a winding staircase.
But there was a draw to him. An undeniable truth that there was more to Roark Ashwood than I knew, and the part of me that wanted to learn more of him kept expanding with every sunrise.
“How far out do the patrols go?” Hilda asked Emi.
“Nearly to the shore, then to the open lands between Myrda in the north and the ravines of Dravenmoor in the west.”
Perhaps I’d feel more at ease if Emi were not twisting a lock of her hair around her fingertips until they turned purple.
“They’ll return soon,” I said, more for myself than anyone.
We poured wine we never drank, tried to play a game with smooth wooden rune chips that was inspired by battles between the different realms of the gods, and paced and paced and paced. Sunlight deepened in the sky the more the sun faded toward Dravenmoor.
Hilda replaced me at the window, and Emi kept clicking two game chips against each other, watching them collide and snap apart.
The door burst open, wood clattering on the wall.
Kael, sweat-soaked, hair on end, and blood over his lip, gasped in the doorway.
“Kael!” I nearly tripped over my hem with my hurried steps.
“Ly…” He tried to gather his breath. “Hurry. We…we need you. Hilda, Nightlark, you too.”
“What happened?” Something had gone horribly wrong.
Kael raked dirty fingers through his hair. “Skul Drek.”
Dammit. A vow, a threat, a promise to attack had felt half likea dream. It was a nightmare. The phantom of the mirror land also lived in reality—not a myth, but a true killer.
