“Father.” Thane stepped beside Kael. He walked with a limp, but no visible wounds were on his skin. “This is not a council to question the melder’s motives. Every soul she values was fighting, and she believed she could protect them. Simple as that. What we ought to be asking is, Who betrayed us and opened the gates for ravagers?”

“The Berserkir no longer had the melded bone,” said Hundur. “You think such a thing could be done by anyone but a melder? She is not to be trusted.”

Emi’s touch was the only hint that I’d shifted at all. One step had been taken toward the dais. Gods, what was I planning to do? Attack a king?

“Keep your head,” Emi said through her teeth.

“You are still angry over your dead seneschal’s son, Hundur,” Thane shot back to the Myrdan king. “But if we’re going to continue leveling accusations, all right, let us make accusations. Strange how the gates opened after your arrival. Could it be you are displeased with your daughter’s betrothal?”

“Enough.” Damir held up a hand, stalling the arguments. “Myrda and Jorvandal will be united as bonded allies sooner rather than later. By tomorrow’s moon you will wed the princess, Thane.”

Thane shifted, uneasy, but gave a nod.

“But”—Damir’s lip curled into something vicious—“to see the ceremony safely concluded, I am instating mandatory rank melding come morning. Every Stav.”

My blood went cold. Baldur’s eyes gleamed with delight, but Emi shrunk back.

King Damir lifted his gaze to me. “Including you, Sentry.”

“Father. Ashwood answers to me.”

“And you answer to me!” King Damir roared. “If he serves Jorvandal, then he serves me. My Stav Guard will be melded with every last soul bone. We will show the Dravens what becomes of fierce warriors when they are made fiercer. We will take the power of the gods until the ravines of Dravenmoor run with blood.”

“You plan to empty your stores of soul bones?” Ingir said, a quiver to her voice.

Damir looked back at her. “All of our forages will be melded before the vows. Not a single Stav Guard will go without.”

“That could kill Lyra,” Thane shouted. “One meld nearly brings her to her knees.”

“Then I will see to it she is well rested.” Damir plucked a horn of honey ale off the table and sloppily drank before tossing it aside with a clatter.

“You believe her to be this strong?” Ingir asked.

“She has abilities not even Fadey could match.”

The queen rubbed a green pearl in one of her rings. “Well, I stand by your choice, husband. The gods have provided us with a way to restore the kingdoms to what they once were.”

With open arms, Damir spun around. “Blessings of the gods must truly be upon us, my wife and I see eye to eye.”