My cheek struck the soil, grass coated my tongue. I scrambled to my knees, desperate to get back on my feet.

A strong, gloved hand curled around my ankle. “Melder Bien, stop. What has come over you?”

I screamed when the Stav Guard yanked me back. I kicked and thrashed. One arm was pinned behind me as the guard climbed over my back. Too strong, too tall. My sob cracked against the soil.

He reached for my hair. My elbow knocked into his jaw.

“Damn you.” The Stav gave up any attempts to be gentle.

I rolled onto my hip, facing the courtyard, and my heart skipped. Sword in hand, his dark hair like the gloss of a crow, Roark stood, flanked by Thane and Emi.

“Roark!” I cried his name, the sound of it cracked. “It’s Fadey!”

I wasn’t certain if he could even hear. But there was strange relief knowing he was there. Hands still pawed at me, I was still in danger, but the sight of him was a lull in a storm. The Sentry saw me, and I’d been witness to what his rage could do.

Roark bent forward, like he’d been struck. His shoulders heaved for a few heartbeats. When I thought he might fall, Roark straightened.

“Lyra!” My name cut from his mouth, but it was stretched and prolonged, like an echo.

The jagged sound pulled away from Roark at the same time something dark, like black blood, spilled from the side of his neck, his shoulders, his ribs. A gruesome, coiled shadow billowed until it took shape with wide, broadened shoulders, long, strong legs wrapped in misty shadows. A phantom with a blade that gleamed like real steel had been the one to shout my name.

Wind and breath slowed to nothing. The guard gripping my body went still.

By the gods. Roark, my safety, my calm…he was Skul Drek.

Or he was part of the assassin in the shadows.

I didn’t understand it and foolishly gaped, as though frozen, as Roark straightened again. He rolled his sword in one hand, then raced down the slope, darkness and misty shadows at his side.

Skul Drek lashed through a few Stav nearest to the queen’s wing. Never drawing blood, merely overtaking their minds, their damn souls, until the guards fumbled on their feet, disoriented.

In the next breath, frigid coils of the inky filaments of the assassin wrapped around me and the Stav Guard. The warrior tried to flee, but the moment he turned over his shoulder, he aligned with Skul Drek’s hooded face. Colorless flesh, copper-flame eyes, the sneer that could slice through the heart.