The way his eyes burned in disdain was almost like he’d caught sight of something else—silver in the eyes and deadly craft in the blood.

The feast was held at twilight. Astra, the youngest child of the jarl, leaned close to Baldur, reveling in the captain’s hungry attentions.

Kael’s jaw pulsed in annoyance from where we huddled in the doorway leading to the back corridors of the longhouse. Disowned, unclaimed, and forgotten as he was, his goodness would still see Astra as a sister.

She’d been small when he’d left the family, but as little as they knew of each other, Kael cared deeply about her. And what brother would want a sister who shone like a bright sun to be seduced by a man like Baldur?

“She’s too young,” he said, voice tight.

“Agreed,” I said. “But there is nothing much we can do.”

He grunted, then took up one of the ewers of mead from my hand. “Head down out there, Ly.”

It was what he always said, a sort of promise between us. Alone, Kael told me to keep my shoulders back, to lift my chin. Around so many, especially Stav Guard, he would tell me to disappear.

If it were not my duty to serve the household, Kael would’ve insisted I remain in the back entirely.

Tonight, everyone was expected to keep the Stav comfortable with full bellies and drinking horns and portray House Jakobson as the most hospitable of hosts.

Together, we carried ewers and platters of Selena’s cakes and sugared rolls into the great hall.

I knew this day was loathsome for Kael, knew how much he detested stepping foot into the hall of his childhood as though he had not sat on his father’s left-hand side for a dozen summers.

“Avoid Ashwood,” he whispered.

“You believe me, then?”

Kael scoffed. “No. I think you are uneasy and have convinced yourself your scavenger was the Sentry, but he has a way of sensing craft in the blood. I don’t know how he does it, but keep a distance.”

“You’re saying this now?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the handle of the wooden ewer tighter.

“I did not expect Sentry Ashwood to be here, or I would’ve made mention of it.” Kael offered a nod to one of the noblemen of Skalfirth, who returned a pitiful smile.

I closed my eyes, blowing out a long stream of air. “Fine. I’ll keep to the young Stav and survive their wandering hands.”

Kael’s eyes darkened. “I trained with the lot of them for six months, Lyra. They touch you, I’ll cut off their fingers.”

“Unless Ashwood cuts out my throat first.” I was being childish, but fear and frustration tangled like barbed vines, leaving me stepping about like a rabid hound about to bite.