He said nothing and removed his tunic. A protrusion on one side of his ribs seemed misplaced, along with a bulge over one hip. Other soul bones? He was advancing to a captain of three units—more than fifty Stav would be his to command—and each bulge might be the addition of impenetrable bones under his flesh.

The officer with the knife cut a deep wound into the side of his ribs without the bulge. Blood fountained down his waist, but he didn’t wince in the slightest.

My fingers trembled. Sick burned the back of my throat when I needed to dig at the torn skin to nudge one edge of the bone inside, like a bloody pouch.

“Remember your purpose, Lyra,” King Damir said.

I held the king’s stare until the bursts of golden threads flashing over the new bone pulled my attention. Lovely guides and whispers to the magic in my blood on what it could do, what it should do. Stitch in the bone, meld it, move on.

I would fall to the darkness, face the shadow, if only to prove I could stand before my fear. With my back to the king, I touched the bone and a veil of cold mists coated the world.

26

Lyra

Darkness bled into itself, drawing me deeper than before, consuming me whole. The chamber transformed into inky shadows that slithered from corners like spreading rot. Gentle flakes of wispy snow kissed my cheeks now, and the only light came from the golden bones in every direction.

Beneath my hands the soul bone burned like it was wrapped in flames. Slender threads tugged it deeper against the Stav’s rib cage. My fingers moved without thought, like Kael promised. The more I accepted the power in my blood, the more instinctual it became.

Each movement became a trance.

With one bone placed, I gathered the next, the pale heat of cold alight in my palms, then drifted to the form of the next Stav Guard.

Those present for the melding drifted like they did outside the mirrored land. Bones shifted when folk leaned in to whisper, to gossip. Some people lifted horns and goblets to parted jaws for more wine, and others returned to seats near the front.

Again and again, I stitched the bone to the Stav, forgetting the unease of this place, of the magic here.

Until the cold came—sharp and jagged. I quickened my fingers, securing the bone against the third Stav’s upper thigh.

I’d only pulled my hand away when the darkness coiled around my shoulders. I closed my eyes. There was the urge to flee, to fall out of my own power, but I was here to find more. King Damir required it of me.

The king carried a demeanor of gentility, but there was a cruelness behind his eyes. A man not above threats and brutality to get what he desired.