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Heir of Twisted Lies

Page 118

by L.J. Andrews

Because of me. My eyes narrowed. I am her prince, Yrsa. I was the only soul willing to save her when her father prepared to sell her to a damn brothel in Myrda. To keep my curse hidden was a debt she felt she had to pay.

Yrsa winced. She knew why Emi had fled Dravenmoor, why she had tried to slit Virki’s throat before the traders found her. She had run and not stopped until she reached the Phantom Forest, where she had sent word to me.

I crowded the princess, my gestures slow, almost threatening. If you wish to blame someone, place it atop the shoulders that deserve it. Mine. Not the woman who loves you, soul deep.

Without another word, I turned away from the princess.

Emi studied her boots in the dirt, but Lyra stood beside the tall gelding we’d share. A faint grin teased her lips, a secret knowing; she squeezed my palm three times, then took her place just past the withers.

I settled behind her, one arm around her waist. With a simple signal at Thane, he nodded and we tore through the northern wood, the looming slate peaks of the Night Ledges in our view.

—

We were nearly to the pass. Twice we’d made camp for the night, and twice Lyra tossed and thrashed in her sleep.

Our mismatched crew spread out across the wide paths honeycombed across the land. Kyrre could not help but pester the horses, nipping at their hooves, and found a bit of enjoyment bothering one of the Stav. The fool kept cursing in pitchy old-language dialect, and the wolf found it delightful.

I never called him off.

Gunter, Auki, and Thane did most of the hunting. Strange how quickly the Jorvan prince got on with my childhood playmates. Then again, proud as Thane was about his Jorvan blood, he never let something so small as borders change his opinion of others.

Show him their character, and the prince would accept people or not.

Brynn and Emi kept close to me and Lyra, trading tales of childhood and growing up in different lands.

Nights were spent with watch duties while the rest of us slept huddled together for warmth. No flames. Not this near the ledges, not when Jorvans and Myrdans would be tracking their missing royals, no doubt.

On the second night, Yrsa even handed Emi one of the fur mats without recoiling immediately. Still, she had not spoken to my cousin, and the weight of a rejected soul bond was evident in the pulpy circles beneath Emi’s eyes.

Time. All there was to do was hope that in time the princess would at least hear her out.

This far north, Dravenmoor was a land of knolls and hillsides topped with frosted evergreens and dark-leafed oaks.

“If Selena were here, she’d force us to don totems to ward off troll folk from stealing us away to their caverns beneath the knolls,” Lyra said.

I chuckled. My father took me hunting here in my eighth season, when his mind was not so divided. He told me the hills and valleys were made from the first pawprint of the gods’ fara wolf. The enormous beast howled and shifted the whole of the realms until new, smaller wolves clawed through the cracks of the soil.

Lyra leaned into me with a sigh, letting her head fall to my shoulder. “You were close with the king?”

I hesitated, speaking against her heart. For the first seasons of my life, yes. The deledan took him farther away from us as time went on. Near the end, it seemed as though he could only speak with the queen.

“Is that why you resent her? Because her craft split his soul, but hers was the only one who could still reach him?”

Resentment had built against Elisabet for seasons. From sending me away, using me as a pawn in bloodshed, for the loss of my father. I grew up in Stonegate never truly understanding my past. But I am beginning to see that as ruthless as her actions have been, they were done to protect what was left of her family. I am not so certain I wouldn’t have done the same.

Lyra tilted her head to look at me. “You already have. Before we even left Stonegate, you have shown there are no lines you will not cross for me, Roark.” The silver in her eyes flashed as though a fiercer piece of her craft awakened. “I hope you know, there are no lines I would not cross for you.”

I pressed a kiss to her hair and tightened my hold around her waist.

“Roark.” Thane materialized beside us, slowing his skittish horse. “The pass is ahead, but the wolves are snarling. And on this, I trust their instincts more than mine.”

Ahead, Kyrre and Òlmr paced frantically, their attention on the bend in the path. Have bows ready. Keep watch on the trees.

Thane gave a curt nod and handed a bow to Lyra with a leather quiver. “Plenty of bone arrows there, Ly.”

He rode to the front, informing the others.

“Roark,” Lyra whispered. “I’ve dreamed of Fadey these last few nights. In every dream he speaks like he knows where we are, what we’re doing.”