Fadey wore the face of a Stav, but he was no warrior. Slow to react, allowing his stun to dull his instincts. I had time to ram the point of the knife through the top of his hand.

A weak strike. He cried out in pain all the same. The blade tore through his flesh. That was all I needed.

My palm covered the open flesh. Craft surged in my nose, my lungs, my tongue, a storm on the sea.

Fadey’s shouts cracked in new fear when he realized what I was doing. Bone snapped, heated.

He tried to wrench his hand away from the table.

Already too many of the small bones in his fingers, his palm, had shifted to molten material, spilling out over the wood. I made quick work of opening another wound on his leg. Fadey cursed me, hissing and spitting, but weakened by the pain of his twisted hand.

I yanked his wrist enough to touch the golden threads of craft flailing off his palm to the open wound of his thigh, where new strands of gold bled off his bones beneath the flesh.

One stitch, two, was all I managed before his opposite fist slammed against my skull, knocking me back.

Still, slivers of bone from Fadey’s hand were melded to the place above his knee, forcing him to hunch.

His skin flushed red with hatred. His eyes flashed like the burn of the molten hell when he tried to remove his hand and stand straight.

“You bitch.” Spittle flung over his lips. “Kill her. Ingir, kill her!”

I ran toward the glass doors that opened to the knolls near the back gates of the fortress. Ingir shrieked and raced after me. I didn’t stop, didn’t look back.

Outside, the sun burned my eyes. I kept running, dodging some wandering guests and curious gazes.

“Stop her!” Ingir’s voice was a broken sob. “S-stop the melder! She…she murdered the king.”

I thought I might retch. Horns blared the longer the queen cried out my crimes. She sank to her knees for good measure. All sides of the sprawling lawns were edged in Stav Guard answering their lady’s commands.

I spun back and forth. No direction was free from the glare of the white wolf symbol.

I was trapped.

48

Roark

Something wasn’t right.

I looked over my shoulder, expecting to see something dreadful. There was nothing but an open door and my cousin softly whispering to Yrsa as she helped pin the last of her braids in place.

My blood began to simmer, like some deeper piece of me could not shake the cloud of unease. It continued to gather like smoke from a doused fire.

“All I’m saying is I would’ve appreciated a word of warning.” Thane fastened a silver arm ring around his wrist, two wolf heads snarled at each other on either end. “Might’ve even gone with you to slaughter the bastard.”