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Sindri was not welcomed to the battlefield. His protests matched his youthful age, the way he looked ready to stomp and kick his feet. In the end he complied. Now he would be shielded in the camp until the Dark Watch found a moment safe enough to get the boy to the palace.

“He looks like Nivek,” the queen said.

I nodded.

My mother faced me. “You seem better this morning.”

I lifted the totem. Helps.

“Roark.” Elisabet hesitated. “I do not know what lies in store today, but I must tell you something. Trust me or do not, but I love you. I love your brother. I love my king. I did not have a way to save your life, and your father willingly gave his so you would have a chance to restore what was lost. I never betrayed my bond.”

My teeth clamped. Did you know my bond wouldn’t break with the deledan?

I repeated the question until understanding flashed in the queen’s eyes.

“Yes.” She stared at the grass. “I thought I would lose my bond when your father volunteered to be rent in two. I did not speak to him for weeks. I could not believe he would ask me to do such a thing. But when it was clear our sons might be at risk should the Jorvans succeed in their plans to continue crafting their vicious warriors, I made my first impossible choice. Perhaps the gods are kinder than I know. Our bond did not break.”

You could still speak with him?

My mother grinned. “Yes. When he could not speak to others, he could pull me in through our bond, and we could communicate clearly. I counseled with him there. It was how I knew his desire was to give you the chance to live. The deaths you were commanded to bring to the Jorvans, I admit, came from hatred. I’m sorry for falling into the bitterness over the seasons. I embraced my own darker pieces too fiercely at times. But never truly against Lyra. I knew you would never kill her should she be found. Your soul bond would not allow it.”

I did not know what to think. The queen admitted to using my darker soul to slaughter. True, she might’ve desired for Thane to die when I attacked him, but she knew I would not harm Lyra. She knew, eventually, that we would be reunited. It meant Elisabet Foxglen always anticipated the melder living within her borders.

Since I’d returned, pieces of the past had fallen into place, and I questioned my bitterness more and more.

To know that both my mother and father knew of my infantile bond and gave up everything so I might keep it—the truth was almost too much to carry. The weight of resentment and bitterness I’d shouldered all this time grew heavier with emotion. With a debt to those who’d given me life that I could never repay.

Thank you.

Elisabet returned a small smile. “I would save you again and again. Live today. Be free, son. That is how you can thank me.”

A horn broke the stillness of the morning.

In the valley below, soupy mists pulled back. My blood quickened. Darkness boiled in my brain.

Rows and rows of Stav Guard units marched through the trees. Shield Riders took the edges, their gilded round shields in position atop their tall, bulky horses.

The whole of the front lines was made of Berserkirs. There were more now than when I’d left. Men clad in tunics with tassels marking their kills. Bones bulged across their shoulders and legs, their thighs thicker than was natural, their necks wide and bulky.

At the head was Fadey.

The melder was clad in black, the white wolf of Stonegate the only contrast on his attire. Unlike the Shield Riders, Stav Guard preferred to attack on foot. They were trained to be swift and brutal—I’d trained them. Fadey took his place in front of the Berserkirs. Men he’d corrupted over the seasons. He still wore the face of Baldur the Fox, auburn hair braided down his skull.

Did anyone behind those blades and shields realize who they followed into battle?

Near the back, on the peak of a smaller hill, Hundur was perched atop a fine stallion and next to him was Ingir.

Hate thrashed in my veins. The presence of the blood crafter queen was a signal for the trapped darkness to bleed out again, to break me apart to be free.

I held the talisman. I thought of Lyra’s face. The silver in her eyes. The words she whispered before she woke each morning, her silent hopes for how the day might go. It was my most favored part of the morning. My wife, sharing her thoughts with me, admitting she looked forward to seeing them through with me at her side.

“Even though you’re still surly, Ashwood.” She’d always whisper the final line before kissing my head and leaving our bed.

This morning had been no different, only her voice was hushed, trembling. Fear was there. Still, Lyra spoke of her hopes for the after. We’d all be dining at a weary table tonight, sharing our bloody stories and celebrating that we all survived. Then, she would fall asleep in my arms and she’d wake to a world where, at long last, we were both free.

“So it begins,” the queen whispered at my side.

I rolled my shoulders back and looked at my mother. I will meet you on the battlefield.