“You want to scream.” Baldur’s deep, slimy voice heated the curve of my ear. With slow steps, a true fox cornering a hare, the captain stepped around to face me. This close, it was simple enough to make out the sun-worn calluses of his skin, the slight freckles beneath the coarse hairs of his beard. “Tell us your story, how you came to be here, and perhaps he will greet the sunrise, Melder.”

Sweat beaded between my fingers as I curled my fists. The longer I insisted I was not the melder they sought, the more Kael would be put at risk of harm.

“If it is blood you seek,” I began, voice low and dark, “take it from me. Clearly, that is your aim. Leave the innocent alone.”

“Innocent? I see no innocent here. Darkwin has known about your craft, a man I thought was made of honor.”

Kael had never been one to recoil from a battle. Even as a child, unwanted and alone, he would stand firmly against drunkards in the hall who tried to harass servants, me, or Astra. He was unafraid to strike the jaw of cruel boys from nearby farms who’d taunt me for the nervous way I twitched my fingers, or the small gap between my teeth.

I’d always admired Kael Darkwin for his boldness, until this moment. My friend, my damn brother, sat back against his heels, spine straight, and a flare of rebellion in his eyes. “What do you want me to say, my lord? As Lyra told you, if you’ve come for blood, get on with it.”

“Do you confess you know this woman is a melder and you willingly concealed her from Stonegate?”

“I see no silver in her eyes.” Kael wore a smug sort of look. “And if I did, I certainly would not admit such a thing to you.”

“Kael.” Panic tightened my throat.

His pale eyes flicked my way, too swiftly for anyone to notice. He was afraid.

Two Stav took hold of Kael’s arms and pinned him facedown on the floorboards. They cut through his tunic, exposing the strong planes of his back. By the gods, they were going to flay him here; they’d peel the flesh off his bones, leave him to bleed out or rot with infection.

Jakobson looked pale, but did not protest. I could not say the same for Mikkal. Kael’s half brother shot to his feet, shouting loud enough his mother commanded the very Stav Guard invading her damn home to remove her son from the room.

Kael was stalwart. Calm as the morning sea. He did not cry out, he did not move.