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“You allowed your own son to threaten you?”

Elisabet did not falter beneath Virki’s scrutiny. Truth be told, the queen seemed to stand taller. “To prevent bloodshed, we made a compromise. I intend to see it through.” With that, the queen looked to Roark. “The melder will be kept out of sight and under guard. Watcher Blackvale suggested these watchers to see to her.”

Elisabet opened one arm, welcoming two new faces to her side.

A woman stepped forward. Her features were lovely and sharp. She stood taller than the queen, and her chestnut hair was shorn close to her scalp on one side, and on the other, it was intricately braided over her shoulder.

At her side was a man whose face was nearly a mirror to hers, save for his eyes, which burned in a vibrant shade of green while hers looked more like the coral shells that would wash up from the Green Fjord back home.

I was not certain I trusted Gunter Blackvale, but there was a touch of relief hearing that he’d suggested these new Dravens, until Emi’s father laughed.

“Well thought, my queen.”

Roark shifted in front of me, his attention on the two newcomers, and I did not think they were welcome.

“We will see to the melder, my prince,” the man said, a sly sort of grin spreading beneath the russet stubble on his face. One fist pounded over his chest. “She will be unharmed when you find her, on my honor.”

No. Roark gestured and shook his head, once, twice, three times, until the queen let out a sigh.

“Brynn and Auki will take her to a secure chamber. You will stand before the úlfur.” The queen lowered her tone. “I kept her alive; now you keep your end of the bargain.”

Roark would not have a chance to protest again.

With a quick clack of his teeth, Roark’s uncle signaled his pack forward. I cried out when three fara wolves, tall enough that their heads reached my ribs, herded me away from the prince.

Roark made a move to reach me, but five more wolves circled him. In the next breath, darkness bled from the scar on his throat.

“Roark.” Elisabet’s voice rose over the chaos. “Control yourself or we’ll put an arrow through her heart.”

Roark spun around, looking to the balcony of an upper level of the royal house.

Shit.

Beneath cowls of fur and wool, a line of Draven archers aimed dark onyx arrows straight at me.

The man Elisabet called Auki drew me against his chest, a grin still written on his face. The woman took my other arm and guided me toward a narrower doorway on a side of the palace that was opposite the direction Roark was being led.

Frantic, I looked over my shoulder. Roark was made of dark rage. He looked nowhere but at me when he raised one hand and gestured, words only I would know: They touch you, be ruthless.

I swallowed and shouted, “Just like Tomas!”

Roark’s mouth quirked in a bit of wickedness, the last sight I saw before the door slammed between us.

“Knew it’d be interesting when she showed her face,” Auki murmured, guiding me toward a coiled stone staircase.

“Didn’t think we’d ever get a chance to see her until Gunter showed up,” said the woman.

“Who are you?” I snapped.

She chuckled and spun me around. “I am Brynn Oakbriar. Virki is quite pleased I’m the one to guard you, for you see, Melder, you stole my crown when you fell for the man I was sworn to wed.”

7

Roark

When the doors snapped shut, separating me from Lyra, I spun on the queen.

Elisabet would not understand my gestures, but when I pinned her with a sharp glare and a finger pointed at her face, the queen sniffed.