Already the soul bone was bolstering his broken ribs, and his chest appeared more intact. Soul bones healed and strengthened the living by absorbing pieces of the soul from the dead. The trouble was it was impossible to know if a healing body would take on the honor of the dead, or the darker desires.

When the melder shoved against Baldur’s chest, the captain yanked her hair to reclaim his control.

Unbidden, the touch of his hands on her skin, the wince of pain on her features, brought another shock of rage to my blood.

I forced my steps to a halt, gathering my damn senses. What was I planning to do? Take her from Baldur and…what? Protect her? Shield her?

The sight of me so near brought her panic to a pause. Her silver-scarred gaze locked with mine, as though she could see every vicious thought in my head. Until a flash of something darker burned through and her lips curved into a sly sort of grin.

Dammit.

I lunged to stop her, but wasn’t fast enough.

Lyra dropped as though her legs went boneless, managing to slip Baldur’s grip. Before he could take hold of her wrist, she snagged a slender knife from the side of her calf.

Baldur recoiled when she slashed at his face. Lyra scrambled to her feet, swiping the blade at any Stav who approached, then pressed the edge of the knife to her throat.

I held up a fist to stop the men approaching her from every side. The melder and I would speak in our own way.

Her eyes were wild, the scars like falling stars in the velvet night.

“Leave them,” she spat at me. “Leave my people. Take me, but you leave the rest.”

A grin—for the first time since arriving—cut over my mouth. I’d been wrong. I thought her delicate; there was nothing delicate about this one.

She would not understand my words, but I asked the question all the same. Meaning?

“Lord Ashwood asks for your clarification,” Baldur grumbled, no doubt irritable he’d been bested. “Who, exactly, are we to leave behind?”

“All the crafters.”

My grin widened. Treason has been found here and we cannot ignore it.

“Treason can’t be ignored,” Baldur translated with effort. He was too haughty to take the time to learn how to deeply communicate with me.

I was glad for it and cared to speak with him as infrequently as possible.

I tilted my head to one side. Because of the actions here, craft of this land now belongs to Stonegate.

When Baldur finished the broken reply, defiance blazed in her features, and I wanted to keep the fury she hid beneath the simplicity of her station and appearance, burning like a wildfire in the wood.