My jaw tightened. “Couldn’t be because a father was torn from his young ones, and a new bride was taken from a husband who adores her, could it?”

Emi shook her head. “Do not pretend any of us had a choice in this, Melder. Do not pretend you didn’t nearly make their lives more unbearable.”

I swallowed. The brisk, jagged edges to her tone gave up the first hint at how Emi Nightlark managed to stand as a respected Stav, Draven blood and all.

She stomped across the hut, kicking up dust and a few pebbles as she went. When her chest butted mine, she looked upon me with a narrow gaze. “What I can do for them—if you will allow it—is offer advice as a bone crafter torn from everything she knew. You are not the only ones who’ve lost family.”

The desire to look away was potent. I held steady, giving her the decency of my attention, but a sheepish heat prickled up the back of my neck.

What did I know about the two Dravens in the Stav Guard? They were in a foreign land, serving the enemies of the clan of their births. How did they come to be under King Damir’s rule? Perhaps that was why Roark softened around Emi—they might’ve been all the other had from home.

I looked down, fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of the tunic. “I merely want them safe. I do not know how to keep them alive when I do not know what we’re facing by the day’s end.”

Emi let out a sigh. “Then I urge you to listen to us. Sentry Ashwood is honorable. He said he would get you to Stonegate, and I now believe he will.”

“Did you not believe he would before?”

She smirked. “I didn’t think he would risk his own neck against a fara wolf which did not share a bond to him, no. But like the Sentry, I said I didn’t want Darkwin or any of you dead, and I meant it. I can offer the bone crafters guidance to their new lives in Stonegate. I could do the same for you if you would stop being a damn fool and stop risking your own neck in the wood.”

With one finger, Emi signaled for me to join her near a narrow gap in the wall. “Look upon those trees in daylight.”

I hesitated for a few breaths, then went to her side and peeked through the cracks in the daub between the laths.

Mists glided through the edge of the clearing. The trees were black and silent, gray clouds darkened behind the rich emerald leaves. Bursts of fiery orange clashed against the dreary bark and stumps with sea moss or blooming shrubs. But dripping shadows slithered across limbs and branches like dark serpents. Beneath the morning light remained a heady foreboding about the wood.