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“He is not the Sentry.”

I sighed. “Roark uses soul craft. He’s speaking to Thane. If the Dark Watch lowers their blades, will you stay yours?”

The Stav flicked his eyes to me. “Are you mad, Melder Bien?”

I rolled my eyes. Emi held the other Stav Guard still. Her brow was twisted in pain, and I understood why.

Yrsa had not moved from the front flap. Frozen, locked in a tangle of rage and heartbreak, she looked at Emi.

“Yrsa,” I said softly. “Let them explain.”

Tears lined the princess’s lashes. “Whatever there is to explain, it will never excuse such lies.”

Emi winced as though she’d been struck.

Gods, I did not have time for this. “I’m going to bring them out.”

“Find those connections.” Gunter winked. “You’ll be all right.”

I’d drawn up the bond in the tent, felt the pull to the prince. Now I merely needed to find the crueler threads.

One palm to my chest, the hum of craft was there. Solid. Firm. Flesh on my fingertips glowed in fibrous tendrils. Golden and hot to the touch, filaments spilled off my palms, weaving into a taut rope.

I curled my grip around it, pulling, tugging, drawing the end nearer to me. Each pull and light faded. Smoke burned the back of my throat. A cold breeze flitted my hair about my cheeks.

Murky trees bent and curved. Leaves dripped from the branches like they were made of slime on the banks of swamplands. But in the darkness, the forms of the Stav, of the Dravens, even the two wolves were starlit beams, keeping the shadows at bay.

There, in the center of them all, were Skul Drek and the prince. They were not lashing at each other. Truth be told, Thane looked a little defeated, a little weary.

Skul Drek, the most brutal shards of my husband’s soul, stood near the prince. His expression was almost…compassionate. Between them lived a glittering silver thread, weak and delicate, but the longer they spoke, the brighter it gleamed.

Brothers without blood. They were the same as Kael and me. If only they would not remain too damn stubborn to see it.

And we had little time to spend bickering about the past. They would need to accept what had torn us apart, so perhaps we might move on together.

I took the first step forward.

—

My vision had hardly refocused on the small camp before I was crushed against a broad chest. Roark’s fingers dug into my hair, tilting my head back. Those furious golden eyes bounced back and forth between mine for a heartbeat, then another, before he slammed his mouth to mine.

There would never come a day when I grew tired of this man’s kiss.

I dug my fingernails into the back of his neck, my tongue brushed over his, and I arched against his body.

The rough skin on his palm patted the side of my cheek, once, twice, three times. Mine.

I bit down on his bottom lip, consumed with the need for more, a need to nestle beneath his ribs and never break free again.

“My prince, what would you have us do?”

The voice broke through the spell. Brow to Roark’s, I breathed him in for a moment.

Behind us, the Stav Guard looked to Thane. The Jorvan prince slowly rose from the dirt, brushing off his trousers. Sweat dampened Thane’s brow, he wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hand, and he gave Roark a strained look.

Yrsa broke through her resentment of Emi and hurried to the prince’s side. She gripped his arm. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

Thane swallowed. “I’m fine.”