Baldur spent the night after my ranking by drunkenly mocking me, as though I ought to be disappointed.

As though I had not been placed exactly where I wanted to be.

“I wish I could be there,” Thane said. “But with the attacks, I doubt I will ever be permitted to leave Stonegate again. Not unless my father sires another son, but alas, my mother would need to allow her husband into her bed if that were to happen.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the prince paused and shuddered.

What does the king wish us to do if it is confirmed the lost melder is alive? I gestured the question slowly, already anticipating the reply.

“Deal with the traitor who sold her out first, then use your methods to bring the melder home. Roark.” Thane’s voice lowered. “I know you don’t always care for the craft of melders, but you must admit it has its uses to keep our people safer.”

Debatable. My jaw pulsed.

Thane chuckled and rested a hand on my shoulder. “The king plans to increase patrols and move his ceremonies to more private locations. In fact, that is the other piece of this. Only select Stav will join you, guards who are sworn to secrecy. They will not speak of what you find in this village.”

It wouldn’t matter how the king tried to keep craft hidden behind the walls of the fortress. Blood and death always found melders.

The magic that ran in the veins of a melder crafted abominations that left souls and bodies corrupted, altered, and vicious.

Last harvest, the king’s personal melder had been slaughtered. I felt nothing but relief with Melder Fadey’s death. I thought, for once, there might be peace if melding craft were not here.

Gods, I’d almost allowed myself to forget the past wars, to forget lives had been lost trying to reach a small girl with silver in her eyes. Perhaps, I hoped, the Norns of fate had already cut her threads of life and sent her to Salur.

Maybe to one of the two hells to burn or freeze.

No mistake, now blood would spill again.

“We do this discreetly for as long as we can. We don’t want another raid,” Thane said, soft and low.

I closed my eyes against memories of distant screams, of smoke and burning flesh.

No kingdom escaped without loss. Thane lost his uncles. The smaller kingdom of Myrda lost its loyal seneschal and the queen’s nephews.

Me—I lost my homeland and voice.

“You’re to leave at first light,” Thane said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Be careful, my friend. This woman will not be Fadey. I’d hate for her to bespell that dark heart of yours.”

I scoffed. I’d slit her throat if she tried. I have no love for melders, and that will never change.

2

Lyra