The clatter of steel over the stones drew my attention. With the same stance as in the mirror, Skul Drek held the Berserkir in his inky tethers, only now the warrior was bloodied and misshapen. His skin was shredded like claws scraped over his skin.

All gods. I’d torn him apart. What appeared as unraveling gilded threads in the mirror was slaughter in reality.

Blood bubbled over the Stav’s lips. “P-please.” His foggy eyes looked at the blade in my hand.

I clutched the dagger against my heart, holding the Berserkir’s gaze. “Dine in Salur tonight.”

On the next heartbeat, I thrust the point through his heart.

The feeling of carving through flesh, bone, the shudder of his body, the wet gasps as he fell, all of it was sickening. It was merciful. It was a death I caused.

The dagger caught in his chest and took me forward when the Berserkir toppled to the side. Cold, harsh hands caught me again.

I looked to Skul Drek, pulse frenzied. He said nothing for a drawn-out moment, then all at once shoved me in the same direction Krisjan had fled. One foot caught on a raised cobblestone, flinging me forward onto my knees.

I whirled around, but by the time I looked back, Skul Drek was already gone.

42

Lyra

When the horns sounded with the retreat of the ravagers, Mikkal—steadier from Hilda’s bone tonic—insisted he escort me to the palace before anyone noticed my absence.

Once I was properly placed outside the doors of the healer’s wing, I nudged him forward. “You should let them see to your wound.”

“I am quite well,” he said.

“Then return to your mother and father, before they fear the worst.”

Mikkal hesitated. “Thank you.” He clenched his teeth and stared at the woven rug under his boots. “Thank you, Lyra. I-I am filled with shame, for I do not even know if I was cruel or kind to you while you served in our household.”

I scoffed, exhausted, terrified, hands still coated in blood. “I did not wish for anyone to notice me, Mikkal. If you ignored me, it was my desire.”

“Because you knew, right? You knew you were a melder.”

I nodded.

“So did my brother?” Mikkal winced when the bandage over his wounds caught. “I hope I am as honorable as Kael. I stand with you, Lyra. For how you have defended him, and now me, I will stand with you should you ever need it.”

It was endearing. So young, hardly able to grow a damn whisker on his chin, but Mikkal puffed out his chest, declaring his fealty in such a way that he seemed merely a younger Kael.

With a squeeze to his arm, the boy finally abandoned the wing.