“It becomes more natural.” Kael nudged my arm. “We might have different craft, but if you give in to it, if you let it flow when it roars within you, I’ve found it becomes as natural as a draw of air. Craft is yours to command, Ly,” he said, voice soft. “No one else commands your power, even if it feels that way being here. Stand firm, do not fear it. I believe the magic in our blood can sense it and will not trust us in return.”

I considered the idea for a pause. Fear was potent and sour the few times I’d used my magic. I’d been terrified when Kael was dying, terrified to prove my worth to the king. What if fear made the shadow? A projection of my terror.

With a forced smile, I squeezed Kael’s arm. “You seem at ease, at least.”

“I miss home, don’t mistake me, but I was made to be a Stav, Ly.” Kael looked at the crowd almost wistfully. “No one cares I’m the unwanted son of a jarl. No one cares that I come from nothing. They see me as one of theirs, a part of a great warrior clan.”

Selfish of me, but there was a stab of envy at the awe in Kael’s voice. We’d grown together, and I never cared that Jarl Jakobson disowned him, I’d always seen him as mine.

We kept close to each other, me the silent one at his side, Kael the boisterous Stav who’d earned respect for his skill in the battle of the wall.

When some of the young Stav Guard surrounded us, I wanted to sink into his side, but he’d been pulled away by his fellow guards, leaving me alone, cut off from the crowd.

A young officer, not much older than me, eyed me over a wooden goblet. “Súlka Bien.”

He approached, his broader body like a shield against the revel. All at once, I felt cornered, intentionally trapped.

I dipped my head in response, one arm across my middle, and looked away, praying he wouldn’t want to converse much.

The guard stepped closer, scents of leather and wine on his skin. “May I ask a question?” He didn’t give me a chance to respond before his finger tapped the center of my chest. “What does the king make you do to earn his trust? Melders do not give their bones of fealty, some say they can’t. Doesn’t meld properly, I hear. Fadey got on his knees for the king’s delight, I wonder if you do the same.”

I stepped back, eyes narrowed. “Wonder all you like.”

“Hmm. I can’t help but think of the things this mouth might do. It’s been so long since the melder was a woman.” He gripped my jaw, hard enough my teeth cut into my cheeks.