Damir’s eyes darkened. “Elsewhere? Is there anywhere else more important than protecting my strongest crafter?”

This would be a mistake. I did not need to know or see Lyra as anything other than a tool used by the forces of Stonegate. Melders worked in soul bones. To disrupt the resting place of the dead to collect their bones always left a mark of corruption.

It wouldn’t be long before her own magic turned her into a greedy, wicked creature. The same as Fadey.

“I’ll do it, sire,” Baldur said. “I’m as skilled as Ashwood with the blade, and there will be no confusion with the woman understanding what I say.”

His words were the slice of a blade. No, that wouldn’t do at all. Baldur would torment her and try to bed her. The melder was my find; if anyone were to ruin her, the right belonged to me.

The captain has units of Stav to oversee. I will guard the melder.

King Damir grinned. “As I thought. I’m told you already did. Had an encounter with a wolf, did you? Not that I’m surprised. Dravens like to send their little pets after us anytime a soul bone is used.”

The king was not wrong. When he used Lyra to fasten more bones to grow his twisted empire, more attacks would come.

Baldur slurped the last drops of ale from his drinking horn, then sloppily wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “How’d it feel, Ashwood, killing one of your folk’s pups?”

I did not kill the wolf.

“Ah, did you flee like a little, frightened girl?”

“Watch yourself, Captain,” Thane snapped. “You speak recklessly toward my Sentry. Continue and I will enjoy taking out your tongue.”

It was not often the prince showed the darker edges of his soul, but when he did it captivated the whole of a room.

Baldur’s sun-roughened cheeks flushed. “Apologies, my prince. It is the drink and the long journey talking.”

He dipped his chin and stepped nearer to the inglenook, recoiling beneath Thane’s scrutiny.

Damir shook his head as though bored and looked back to me. “If the melder is harmed, remember, Sentry Ashwood, I will hold you responsible. I never want to see another death—not of craft or Stav—inside my walls again. Now go. Wash, rest. You look pitiful.”

Out in the corridor, Baldur knocked my shoulder as he stormed away.

Thane leaned against the wall and blew out a long breath. “What was all that?”

I furrowed my brow and shrugged.

“Don’t play the fool. You hated Fadey, though I don’t know why, and you returned from Skalfirth so twisted in your snarl I thought I might never unravel it. Not to mention, every time Baldur opened his damn mouth about her you looked ready to gut him.”

I waved him away and started my trek to my chambers.