I shook my head and went to a personal cart topped with a wide ewer of aged wine and a horn. I filled only one horn when Thane waved a palm, refusing my offer.

“Jests aside,” Thane said, kicking his legs over the edge of the bed, “you’re taking this death too hard.”

He was my charge.

“Roark.” Thane sighed. “Don’t blame yourself for the actions of those bastards. It is not your fault.”

It was. In so many ways the death of the young Stav was entirely my fault.

We don’t know why he was killed, I told him.

“We’ll find out, and when we do, whoever is responsible will pay.”

I used one hand to respond. Why are you here? Isn’t your mother forcing you to plan your own wedding?

“There likely won’t be a wedding if Stav Guard are getting slaughtered.” Thane winced. “Apologies, I’m careless with my words in your state of distress, allow me to try again. Yes, I’ve managed to slip my mother, flee the palace like a frightened child, and come to see you instead.”

I let out a breath of air, a soft laugh.

Thane was a warrior prince from the golden ridge of hair braided down the center of his head to the bones pierced in his ear. He stood just taller than me, and I was no small man. But bony Queen Ingir and her endless revelry was enough to frighten away any man lest he be tossed into the madness of imported satins, silks, and different flavors of fillings for iced cakes.

“I’ve come for a purpose.” Thane reached into the pocket of his trousers and removed a tattered, folded parchment. “You have heard of Jarl Jakobson, yes?”

The jarl obsessed with finding favor from the king?

Thane jabbed the folded parchment in the air between us. “The very one. He’s made quite an interesting discovery.”

The prince handed me the missive. I read it through once, then once more. Thane was no longer smiling.

My fingers gestured swiftly. Jakobson is certain of this?

“Seems my father’s blood casts have finally worked.”

King Damir couldn’t claim the blood-tracking spells as his since the queen was the blood crafter in the fortress. Not that it mattered.

Seasons ago, King Damir took spilled blood from the house of the lost crafter. If any soul from the same bloodline came near, blood crafters would know it. The king’s spells forced every village to have a royally decreed blood crafter within the borders.

All of it was done to find the child who’d disappeared. A child whose magical craft brought three kingdoms against a small village in the knolls.

There was nothing left of it now.

“But there’s trouble.” Thane interrupted my thoughts, pacing in front of my doorway. “Jarl Jakobson’s blood crafter has sold the woman out to Draven Dark Watch scouts.”