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“No.” Lyra reached for Emi, who’d gone pale as the frosts.

The queen’s face did not flinch. “You still claim her after she left that scar on your throat?”

“I’m sure I’ll find uses for her.”

I would kill him before he harmed Emi again. The memory of finding my bony cousin outside Stonegate—five of her fingers broken, bruises across her jaw, both eyes so bloody in the whites I could not make out her true color, and gaps of her pale hair missing—was still burned across my brain.

One spot still did not grow new hair, and Emi had learned to braid it in such a way that her scalp was concealed.

Elisabet let her shoulders slouch. “She is of your household, and it is customary for daughters to live in the houses of their birth if they do not have one of their own. Unless, of course, she was positioned elsewhere.”

Gods. Was the queen truly relenting to this?

Brynn held up a hand. “There is no lady for the prince’s new wife, my queen.”

Virki shuddered in unbridled rage. “You would be wise not to speak again, Oakbriar.”

“And you would be wise to not threaten my daughter.” Kaysar glared at Virki over the lip of his drinking horn.

Kaysar was brutal, but so was Virki. Brynn was taking a fierce risk. When she looked back, I shook my head. My uncle would retaliate against her.

Brynn held my scrutiny and whispered, “A vow to protect your bond with my life. Remember?”

Damn her. She knew exactly what she was doing to protect not only Lyra, but also Emi.

“A lady.” The queen hummed as she considered the proposition. “Not all find such a position necessary, but perhaps it would suit the melder since she is unfamiliar with our lands.”

“No,” Virki snapped. “Emi is of my house, unwed, and I have need of her.”

“I would be honored if Emi Nightlark served as my lady,” Lyra blurted out. “I am so out of sorts here, and I have few doubts Roark will be taken for meets and…and such. It would be of great use to have someone familiar with the territory at my side.”

I scoffed. I doubted there would be many meets and councils where I would be wanted, but Lyra knew what she was doing.

“If Nightlark agrees, then it will be done,” said the queen.

Virki shot a threatening sort of glance at Emi.

There was no pause before my cousin squared herself against him and said, low and steady, “It would be my honor, my queen. I accept, gratefully.”

Elisabet dipped her chin. “Virki, Emi Nightlark is now part of our household.”

My uncle turned his ferocity toward his queen. “I do not know when you lost your spine. Not everyone will wait for its return.”

Without another word, Virki abandoned the council room and a wave of relief filled my veins.

“Lyra.” Elisabet approached.

Lyra stiffened at my side. “Your highness.”

Whatever the queen was feeling, she did not show it on her features. Stern. Collected. Unmoved. Almost soulless. “My husband’s brother spoke true. You sealed this bond in the shadows, and it has left you wholly unprepared for life as Draven royalty.”

I rolled my eyes and looked away but caught the crack in Elisabet’s mask. For a moment she looked like the mother who’d scold me when I’d grown too raucous.

She turned back to Lyra. “We will have a feast to bring you forward to the clan. I will expect you to learn our customs and your position as the wife of my son.” The queen lowered her voice. “I may have made a vow that I cannot end your life, but I assure you, many here will be waiting to find every fault to use against you. Be wise, and do not let them.”

I waved a hand, gesturing for the queen to look at me. We will not be here long, don’t you remember?

“I suppose we’ll see if an opportunity presents itself,” Elisabet said once Lyra repeated my words. “But the úlfur ruled she will not leave the borders. As predicted. Be on your guard until then.”