“And for bone crafters to fashion stronger blades. But most are marked as soul bones. They save the lives of our armies, Lyra, like it did for Darkwin. It gave him strength from the fallen once it was melded.”

“What is it about the bones of the dead that add so much more power than the shard Kael gave to you?”

Damir sighed. “Some believe a soul yearns to keep living. To do so, it shares its strengths with its new soul. I will show you areas we’ve already harvested, and you will continue the search Fadey left behind.”

What about the phantom? His rage at my presence?

Before I could press the king again, Damir rose and took a step for the door, clearly finished with our conversation.

“As promised, I will give you time to get accustomed to living within Stonegate. Before the rank melding, I will have tomes sent for you to study and learn.” Damir led me toward the door, pausing before he dismissed me. “This is what the gods have prepared you to do, Lyra. Trust in that, and you will serve your people with honor.”

20

Lyra

“Up.” Heavy curtains skidded across the rod over the window.

The boil of sunlight seared against my eyes. I groaned and shoved my face into the pillow, blocking the light. Craft was tiring. Even melding Kael’s bone shard had left me desperate for bed last night.

“Get up.” Emi’s impatience was felt with every heavy step to the side of my bed. “You’re to learn the borders of the fortress today and you’re going to be late.”

“Be gone.”

“Fine. I’ll get the Sentry. He can toss you into a now-frigid bath. Naked.”

I tossed one of the down pillows off the bed. “I’ve been here mere days and already I detest you the most.”

Emi wore her crimson Stav tunic. Her pale hair was braided in a tight plait down her back. She grinned and threw back the furs guarding me from the morning chill. “Detest me if you must, but we are due to meet Ser Bjorn Stonehands so you can see the grounds by the morning bell. He’s less patient than I, and holds no care if you are the melder. And you’re in luck. With the pleasantries of the upcoming royal vow, the prince has insisted Stonehands deliver his guests to the Boarshead Tavern for a revel.

I arched a brow. “I’ve never been to a revel.”

Emi paused. “You lived in a jarl’s household.”

“As a servant.”

“Well, tonight you shall go as a guest. Wear something nice, but a gown that breathes, if you want my advice. Gets all sticky with so many drunken souls in one room.”

“The king wishes to expose his melder? Just last night he said enemies would want me dead more than him.”