A flush of pink washed over her cheeks. “You seem rather close. I, well, I hope you treat her well, Sentry Ashwood.”
One brow shot up and a grin followed, the first since Thane was harmed. Lyra avoided my gaze, and I took a bit of pleasure from it. With my center knuckle, I tilted her chin to me.Are you insinuating she is my lover? That curious about me?
She pulled her chin away, frowning. “I knew you’d be pompous about it. Gods. No, I’m not curious, it’s called conversation. Since I like Emi a great deal more, yet I’m stuck with you, I figured I’d better get to know you. Perhaps find out what she could possibly see in the Sentry.”
She spoke a great deal when nerves took over. My grin widened.
I took hold of her hand, spreading her palm so I could respond against her skin.She sees a cousin.
Lyra made a sort of choking sound when she drew in a sharp breath. “You’re blood?”
Why do you suppose she sent word to me when she needed help?
“Your reputation was my first guess.” This time, she didn’t pull away. “Folk in the kingdom call you Death Bringer.”
My lip curled.Because I will. Should anyone harm someone under my charge, I will kill them.
“I am under your charge.”
I didn’t respond but for a flick of my brow, a tilt of my head,and a final glimpse at the burn in her cheeks before I forced myself to pull back.
“He does not even speak out loud, yet I cannot find rest around him.”
I shot to my feet when Thane groaned and went to rub a hand against the bandages over his face.
Lyra caught his wrist. “Prince, don’t.”
He groaned again. “It itches. I’m going to go mad. One scratch and I’ll stop.”
She laughed softly. “We can find pastes to relieve it a bit.”
Blood pounded in my skull when Thane cracked his eyes and found me in the dim light. “What? Do I look as awful as you?”
Too close. I had to speak it twice, my hands were so unsteady. Guilt at nearly losing my oldest friend, guilt that it had happened at all, the whole of it burrowed in my chest, making it hard to draw a deep enough breath.
Thane sobered. “Looks like it is what you and I are fated to do, brother. Nearly die, then survive.”
“Well, you both might be fond of that,” Lyra said, tucking a fur tighter around Thane’s waist. “But I could do without it.”
“I will do as you say, Lyra Bien.” Fatigue was heady in Thane’s voice. “You frighten me more than the Sentry.”
The great hall was ladenin tension and Queen Ingir still dabbed at her swollen, damp eyes. She had not stopped since word of Thane’s injury spilled through the corridors of Stonegate.
“A dozen Stav in Salur, five in the healer’s wing, one with a missing eye, and a prince nearly sent to the gods.” Damir’s features were ruddy with anger and aimed at his son, who seemedcontent to remain lost in his cups. “I want to know why you went beyond the gates.”
Only two days since I found Thane bleeding out in the wood and one of his eyes and top lip remained swollen and blackened with bruises; the wounds over his chest were still wrapped in pungent herb presses.
In every other way he was Thane—irritated he’d been forced into the great hall and content to drink his way through it.
“I should think it quite obvious, Father.” The prince filled his horn with more foamy ale.
Damir’s eyes flashed. Somewhere within the Jorvan king, I believed him to hold true affection for his son as more than an heir. But siring only one child left the king more concerned about continuing the Oleg line than Thane’s thoughts, hopes, and attributes.
“You should not have been there for any reason.”
“My lord,” Baldur began, “the prince explained he left with a small unit of Stav to set traps and markers along the roads out of concern for the Myrdan caravan when it brings his bride.”
“Thank you, Baldur,” Thane said through a long gulp of his ale. “I could not have explained my own thoughts and actions better if I spoke them myself.”
