Kael filled another horn, then faced me, voice low. “Why would Ashwood be rummaging through a goat cart? Better yet, why would he call you a liar, then leave you be?”

“You’re the one who knows him, so tell me.”

“He wouldn’t, that is what I’m telling you. If Roark Ashwood knew about you, trust me, he would not hesitate to haul you off.”

“I saw the mark on his face where I struck him.”

“Lyra, he would’ve acted by now and I’d be feeding you through bars near the rack.”

My mouth pinched. I used the edge of my smock to scrub spilled ale off the corner of a table. “You never mentioned he does not speak.”

“He does speak.”

“I saw him, he uses gestures.”

“Still speaking, simply in a way that is not the same as us.” Kael lowered his tone. “You must swear you’ll let this go. Don’t draw his attention, Ly. Roark…he’s fiercely protective of Prince Thane. They treat each other like brothers, not guard and royal.”

“Like us.” I forced a smile, a pitiful attempt to lighten the tone, but feared it more or less shone like a grimace.

“Exactly.” Kael frowned. “Swear to me you’ll let this die.”

My shoulders slumped, but I nodded and made my way toward the back of the great hall where the youngest, rowdiest of Stav Guard were placed.

Laughter and chatter echoed over tables alongside the beat of rawhide drums. Sweet hickory smoke floated from a wide inglenook in the corner, hiding the scent of sweat and leather from too many bodies in one space.

Painted clay bowls and plates were set along the numerous tables, and fine horns foamed with honey mead and sweet wines. Vella sat at the right hand of Jarl Jakobson near the head of the long oak table, her silver braids coiled around a headdress of bone and briars. Kohl lined her eyes and lips, but her wool robes were replaced with blue satin.

The jarl was lost in his cups earlier than was typical.

I counted over a dozen Stav seated beside other Skalfirth lawmakers. The Sentry was placed next to Baldur. Without the cloak over his shoulders, Roark’s formidable form was easy to make out.

Before the Sentry could spot me again, I twisted away toward a table stacked in roasted meats, cheeses, and herbs. Through the feast, I kept busy, serving, cleaning, avoiding bawdy offers of Stav who promised to cause me to cry out in pleasure, and for a time worries over plums and deadly scavengers were nearly forgotten.

Selena chattered on with Hilda, a young wife of the local carpenter. Hilda; her brother, Edvin; and Kael were the only known bone crafters in the small village, but the siblings earned a proper living by using bone manipulation to craft whale and boar ribs into some of the sturdiest Stav breastplates and longbows.