The great hall was laden in tension and Queen Ingir still dabbed at her swollen, damp eyes. She had not stopped since word of Thane’s injury spilled through the corridors of Stonegate.

“A dozen Stav in Salur, five in the healer’s wing, one with a missing eye, and a prince nearly sent to the gods.” Damir’s features were ruddy with anger and aimed at his son, who seemed content to remain lost in his cups. “I want to know why you went beyond the gates.”

Only two days since I found Thane bleeding out in the wood and one of his eyes and top lip remained swollen and blackened with bruises; the wounds over his chest were still wrapped in pungent herb presses.

In every other way he was Thane—irritated he’d been forced into the great hall and content to drink his way through it.

“I should think it quite obvious, Father.” The prince filled his horn with more foamy ale.

Damir’s eyes flashed. Somewhere within the Jorvan king, I believed him to hold true affection for his son as more than an heir. But siring only one child left the king more concerned about continuing the Oleg line than Thane’s thoughts, hopes, and attributes.

“You should not have been there for any reason.”

“My lord,” Baldur began, “the prince explained he left with a small unit of Stav to set traps and markers along the roads out of concern for the Myrdan caravan when it brings his bride.”

“Thank you, Baldur,” Thane said through a long gulp of his ale. “I could not have explained my own thoughts and actions better if I spoke them myself.”

The king cursed. “Stupid fool. We will provide Stav aplenty for King Hundur.” Damir paced, his every step drew another whimper from the queen. “You were struck by ravagers?”

Thane shifted in his chair. One of his fingers traced the rim of the drinking horn. “They fought more like warriors, but they were led by Skul Drek. In fact, my numerous wounds are a shrine to the assassin. He could’ve done worse.”

My jaw pulsed in a touch of fear, knowing how truly near to Salur Thane had been.

“Worse?” Ingir wailed. “Look at you.”

“Well, if you must know, Mother”—Thane waved his drinking horn about—“the bastard might have more fear for our rule than we thought. Seemed the moment he saw the royal seal on my cloak, he thought twice about killing me.”

“Dravenmoor would know we’d storm their gates if the prince of the new empire were killed.” A deep grumble broke from Damir’s throat.

No one knew for certain where the assassin hailed from. Attacks against bone crafters and Stav Guard who willingly used soul bones merely left assumptions and suspicions pointed toward the enemy.