Page 94

And when I fell asleep that night, I discovered how horridly right I was.

—

My eyes snapped open. Black mists kissed my cheeks. I sat up, strands of my hair stuck to the frosted ground. Smoke and brine danced over my tongue.

Why was I in the mirror?

Last I could recall, I’d fallen asleep with Roark’s body curled around mine and Kyrre sneaking onto the bed to nuzzle against me. This mirror…it was empty of the beautiful gold of my soul bond. It was empty of Skul Drek.

The glow of my palm was strange. Here, the wound from the blood craft burned in a dark amber shade, not the brilliant gold like my limbs and middle. The ache twisted to a phantom pain, a dull throb.

In the next breath, a glimmer in the darkness fastened to my palm, burning from the blight of the wound. Threads of hateful red slithered through the rot and decay until they ended in a wall of darkness.

Through the shadows a figure materialized.

The heat of his soul was darker than others. His face was sharply angled, his body strong, but his smile was horrid. Cruel and wicked. “Hello, Lyra.”

“Fadey.” My eyes widened.

His face was different, not quite the same as the mask he wore as Captain Baldur. But there was a familiar fury to his power.

It felt too much like mine.

Plumes of darkness rolled toward Fadey. He used one of the reddened tethers to work his way through the shadows toward me.

I scrambled to my feet. “How are you here?”

I was not melding. I was not even in the sights of my husband. How did he keep Skul Drek out?

Fadey chuckled. “You won’t find him here. As I told you in Stonegate, blood craft is not always the weakest. Challenging as it can be, I’ve found my way back to your thoughts.”

Shit. We were not in the mirror at all. This was in my mind.

“Get out.” Panic choked off my rational thought. I clawed at my skull, frantic, terrified, furious.

All Fadey did was laugh. “Damir never truly understood Ingir’s potential. You’ll need to forgive her for that nasty business.” He pointed at the harsh glow of the wound on my palm. “We needed to know where you were. Tell me, how is it in the royal house of Dravenmoor?”

I clawed at the wound. The spell tracked me? They would know when we left, know our moves. I wanted to shred the flesh off my own hand to be rid of it all if we could not cast a blood spell to remove it.

“How are you still finding me?” I took a step to the opposite side when Fadey approached. “You don’t have enough of my blood to keep invading my mind.”

“You know, I wondered the same thing. The totems and spell casts were long dried up after you fled Stonegate. But Ingir insisted that she had reason to believe we could find a way in, even without your blood. I daresay she’s right.” Fadey opened his arms wide, beaming. “I’ve found you again, and here we may speak without shadows listening in.”

I bared my teeth. “Skul Drek will never stop hunting you if you touch me.”

Fadey lifted his palms. “I have no plans to harm you here. I merely want to talk. Perhaps you will not be so foolishly stubborn if you understand what is at stake.”

“You want me dead. Why would I ever listen to you?”

Fadey twirled the gnarled thread connecting us between his fingers. “You can’t go anywhere. Might as well.”

I tried to yank my hand away, but whatever craft held me here would not relent.

“Stop this game, Lyra,” he said in a snarl. “You won’t win. This has been too long in the making. Understand, I only wish for all folk to be reunited in one great kingdom as they once were.”

“With you as the king.”

“I assure you, there are more wretched sorts who rule now.”