Kael, if he did not find a place with the Stav, had already been offered a place in their shop should he desire it.

Again, I had to wonder if Kael would ever allow himself to live a better life knowing I remained here.

Vella rose from her seat, mead lifted. “We are honored with the Stav Guard, and as tradition demands for royal vows, we send with you boons for our prince and his new household.”

Two men approached, arms heavy with furs. Vella gingerly unraveled the fur trappings on bone daggers that would break only if struck with a rare steel, swords made from the ribs of the same whale that would not draw blood should an enemy take it, silver rings, armbands, and crops from the harvest. By the end, Baldur wore an easy grin as he studied the fletching of one arrow. They were pleased, and soon the Stav Guard—and Ashwood—would be gone from our shores.

Baldur leaned into Roark for a breath, watching the Sentry’s fingers move over the tabletop. The captain faced Vella with a sneer. “We accept your offerings. I am certain our king will be most pleased. Of course, it may take more than a few bone blades to keep his wrath from you after your betrayal.”

Jarl Jakobson closed his eyes and took another long drink from his horn.

I halted the ewer, tipped halfway over a drinking horn of the pelt merchant, and felt heat prickle over my skin.

Vella’s smile faded. “Betrayal?”

Baldur rose from his chair. “I am certain you all have heard the king’s melder is dead, murdered by traitors to the crown who despise the gift of the gods.”

“Fadey’s death was troubling,” Vella said, gently. “But I serve King Damir loyally. Ask Jarl Jakobson: I have not left Skalfirth in ages, not since the Norns told our king to place me within these borders.”

“The Norns?” The captain’s teeth flashed in the candlelight. “You want to give those tricksters the credit? The king sent you here because of your blood craft.”

A few gasps filtered through the hall. Vella was a…seer. It was what we’d all been told. A blood crafter used runes and totems and spells to track weakness in blood.

Or…to find other craft in the blood for the king to recruit.

My insides overturned. No.

Baldur leaned onto his fingertips over the tabletop. “You, like all the other blood crafters the king placed in his townships, were here for one purpose—to find the lost bloodline. And you did, didn’t you?”

Vella’s painted lips tightened until the black edges cracked. “I do not understand what you mean, Captain Baldur.”