Our eyes locked. There, buried in the wild gold, was pain, fear. He looked at me with a desperation I’d never seen before.

I pulled my hands away, stepping back, hurt and betrayal like venom in my blood.

“Attack at the palace,” Emi cried to three fellow Stav who patrolled the outer edges of the grounds. “Sentry Ashwood was wounded. We’re to evacuate the melder.”

She kicked at the horrified guards. Roark’s neck was sopping in blood, and his breaths came heavy. With effort, he gestured at the men to follow Emi’s command, to defend the royal house.

They were taking me. No. I couldn’t leave. “Wait, no!”

“Lyra, get on the damn horse.” Emi shoved between my shoulders, nudging me toward a tall, black gelding. “You are the melder and must be protected. King’s orders.”

Good gods, she was playing such a role. Shouting loud enough any Stav would hear and ignore my frenzy, while heeding hers.

Betrayal stung.

“They have Kael,” I sobbed when Roark hooked an arm around my waist, heaving me toward the horse. “They have Kael!”

A rough gasp sounded in Roark’s throat, like he was choking on the blood coating his neck, or angry to think Kael was taken from me. His shoulders heaved with heavy breaths.

“Roark. Make your choice,” Emi snapped. “We are out of time.”

He faced the walls, then turned to the mists that looked too reminiscent of the mirror world. Sweat dampened his brow. His skin was pale. When his arms tightened around my body, my heart sank.

“No.” I shook my head, fists curling around his tunic.

You above everything. His words moved against my face. Burn it all if it means you still live.

Roark was not gentle when he bent me across the flanks of the horse. Emi moved even swifter. She reeled around, forcing me upright in a position on the back of the horse.

“Emi, gods, stop!” I tried to shove her back as tears bled down my cheeks.

“Open your eyes, Lyra! There is no place for you here, not a place where you survive long enough to tell whatever it is you know.”

Roark kicked a leg over the horse, settling behind me. I was half wrapped in his arms, half clinging to the mane of the horse.

“Go.” Emi smacked the flank of the beast. “I’ll meet you at the willow!”

Without a word, Roark fled toward the gates. Stav Guard were frantic, most rushing toward the palace, others preparing to seal the gates.

He sat stiff and powerful. To those watching the Sentry race away with the melder, no mistake, it would appear like a sanctioned escape to protect the king’s prize. To me, I heard the rattle of his breaths, felt the heat of blood on his skin, absorbed the tremble of his hand pressed possessively on my middle.