Page 172

I fell back, energy spent, and leaned against him to keep my head upright at all.

Over. The world reeled in my head. It was over.

52

Roark

I helped Lyra to her feet and had her crushed against my body in the next breath. Her arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly. She trembled.

Gods. The relief was suffocating. She was here. Alive. It was done.

I didn’t know how long we stood there, clinging to each other, but Yanson was the one to break the silence.

“My prince.” Gunter’s father clasped my forearm in a traditional greeting. “The battle is Dravenmoor’s. You are the overruling voice on this field.”

I wanted nothing to do with this battle for a moment longer. I wanted nothing to do with being a voice of authority.

Stav Guard were placed on their knees, with Dark Watch blades leveled at those who’d survived. Thane looked at his folk with unease.

I released Lyra and raised one hand. Dravenmoor did not fight alone. Thane the Bold will decide where Stonegate’s warriors are held. Yrsa of Myrda will speak for the Shield Riders.

Lyra softly repeated my words.

Yanson dipped his chin. “As you say.”

I looked at the body of Fadey. How I’d despised the man during my seasons in Stonegate. He also resented me, always looking at me like he knew the secrets I kept.

I always thought it was his craft I hated, but it was his soul.

I knelt beside him, and a few murmurs filtered through the crowd when I dipped my palms in the blood soaking Fadey’s broken chest, the gashes on his throat. I dragged my palms down my face, the hot, sticky blood coating the gore already there.

My chest, my hands, I washed them in Fadey’s blood.

A hand fell on my shoulder. Lyra knelt beside me. Tear tracks left long streaks down her face. Without a word, Lyra followed my motions. She closed her eyes and ran Fadey’s blood over her cheeks, her arms, her heart.

No one moved. No one gasped in horror. Our armies merely watched us bathe in the blood of our enemy. A taunt to his soul forever. He could not touch us ever again.

When we stood, I gestured to no one specifically, Take his head. I want it positioned on the wall.

Gunter stepped forward, a wicked smirk on his face. “Gladly, my prince.”

—

We set out to help gather the fallen. Lyra watched in silence as Thane and Darkwin helped stack my uncle’s body with those for who we would not offer proper farewells.

“You avenged your brother and Emi,” Lyra whispered.

My cousin had said nothing about her father’s death. She stood near the pile of the dead. Somber. Unmoving.

With slow steps, I went to Emi’s side. I do not regret his death, I told her. But he was your father. If you feel sadness for his loss, it would be understood.

“It’s not about him. I feel her, cousin.” A small smile tugged at Emi’s lips. “My mother rests now. I am no longer threatened by him and feel as though she is at peace, at last.”

I dipped my chin. And how is Yrsa?

Emi looked back to where the princess stood between a fallen king and queen.

“She only wants to reach her mother. Yrsa and Thane plan to renegotiate the alliances. They wish to include Dravenmoor and the Unfettered lands.” Emi chuckled. “It was true, you know.”