Kael snorted. “I think you take pleasure in my pain.”

Emi shook her head and turned Kael’s palm upright, so it faced the ceiling. With a small paring knife, she cut a slit in the top of one of his fingertips. After she dabbed away some of the blood, Emi took the tip of his finger between her own, like she was pinching the nailbed.

Kael grimaced and blew out a few ragged breaths through his nose, but no screams, no horrid agony was written on his face. More discomfort and irritation.

When Emi slid her fingers off his, a shaving of something pale and blood-soaked followed. Kael clutched his hand to his chest until the second Stav Guard handed over a linen cloth to stop the blood.

Pinched between Emi’s fingers was a piece of bone so thin it was nearly diaphanous.

With care, Emi handed the sliver to King Damir. Prince Thane approached his father, saying nothing, but made a small gash behind the lobe of the king’s ear with his own knife.

The king didn’t flinch, simply chuckled at my widened eyes. “You can understand why I only trust my own flesh and blood to draw a knife so close to my throat.” Damir held out Kael’s bone in his palm. “What you did in the jarl’s house, do again. It will not be so overwhelming, for this is no soul bone.”

“You will sense Kael through his bone?”

“At times.”

“Is it not maddening? To feel so many others, I mean?”

“It takes a great deal of focus to sense another soul through the binding, but it is not impossible.”

“Even though you are not a crafter?”

Damir smirked. “Yes. Something about the melding power connects me to these slight pieces of my Stav, creating a sort of bridge between us. I can choose to access it if necessary, or burn it should they betray me.”

Skalfirth was small, secluded, but I thought we understood more than all this. Never had I heard of such a thing being done before. Jorvandal’s Stav Guard was the envy of the kingdoms. Strong, formidable, and some of the most fiercely loyal warriors across the lands.

Because they’d given pieces of themselves.

I laced my fingers together to hide the tremble. “How do I bind the bone, sire?”

The king slid half the shard into the gash in his neck. “Touch it, and your craft should lead you from there.”

The weight of every eye fell over my shoulders. My fingers were unsteady, but with care I reached out to the sliver of bone.

A bite of something sharp, almost like a thorn, pricked my skin. The roar of a furious tide filled my ears and soft light wrapped around the shard.