He thought it was a kindness, a way to give me some respite, but waking to the missive left a darkness in my chest, a dread that prickled over my scalp. Wretched things happened after a melder used craft. Thane knew my beliefs on this, but did not feel the same.

I felt out of control and I could not rid myself of the tension of why and what might come of it.

Sleep evaded me and my temper heated the longer I paced my chamber.

Soon enough, I bit into a strap of leather, securing it around one wrist, and trudged toward the training field off the east wing of the palace.

Long lines of racks with silver-bearded axes, longswords, seax blades, bows, arrows, and throwing knives were there for the taking. Wooden round shields all bore the white wolf of Stonegate and the clank of dull steel over the boards echoed across the morning mists.

Morning, the moments when dawn was pale and weary, seemed to be the only time I could train.

After last night’s feast, I’d not been able to sleep long. Unrest at the sight of Lyra locked in the strange craft-induced trance kept sleep from ever settling fully. The way she’d sobbed against me, more broken than before, cut through me to the marrow of my damn bones.

Fadey never stayed under the control of his craft so long. For a moment, I was not convinced Lyra would wake. More unsettling than her stupor was the jolt of concern for her if she did not pull away.

I finished wrapping my wrists and selected a practice seax from one of the racks, then rolled the blade, testing the give and weight.

Frustration over my misplaced interest in the melder was like a slow bleed, yet I couldn’t find the wound.

In the weeks since she arrived, I’d followed her every step under the king’s order. Whether it be from a corner during the queen’s many luncheons, or in silence while she studied books on craft, I kept aloof, agitated.

But my resolve was failing.

Lyra was skilled at masking, I’d give her that. The woman was well practiced in smiling and nodding, while slowly dimming the light in her eyes. She knew how to become faceless in a crowd, never drawing the eyes of too many.

She kept drawing mine.

I thought I might hate her for it. Never had I been so unraveled. Now I was having damn nightmares with her face.

Since building my life in Stonegate, I kept my focus on my duties, my strength, and keeping our people safe. Mere weeks after bringing a stubborn woman into these halls, I slept less, thought of the way her lips twitched as she read, and I’d grown a bit of smug pride with how she took to heart learning the language of my hands.