Page 153
—
Yrsa had her dark braids tied in a knot on the top of her head, her brow was covered with sweat, and she kept shifting her grip on the pestle she ground against spongy, blood-soaked herbs in the mortar.
The line had no shortage of folk, and Gunter and Thane kept pricking fingertips and dropping their offerings into Yrsa’s blood craft. Yanson, Kaysar, the twins, Dark Watch warriors, Elisabet. Even Kael. With the help of Brynn, my brother glared at Roark like he despised him but offered two drops of his blood.
“It’s because of me,” he muttered when he strode past.
“No. Fadey would have been waiting no matter what.”
Jordis and Sindri stopped at the mouth of the tent. Elisabet studied them, head tilted, no mistake seeing a bit of her son in the face of the boy. “Who are you?”
Roark scoffed when he slumped in the chair. His fever had lessened, and he seemed less fatigued.
Mother. Meet the hidden bone of the Wanderer. The firstborn of the firstborn. Your true heir to Dravenmoor.
His gestures were as slurred as a drunkard’s words. I had to repeat them to his mother.
Blood drained from the queen’s face. “Nivek.”
I nodded. “This is Jordis, Nivek’s wife and sjeleven. And their son, Sindri the Wild.”
Elisabet Foxglen was not a woman who ruffled. Never had I seen her uncertain or bothered by the words of others.
The queen went to Jordis first, studying her, like she was memorizing her every feature. “My son’s…wife?”
Jordis dipped her chin. “Death has only separated us for a time.”
Elisabet peered at the boy. “You look like your father, my prince.”
The queen dipped her chin in a bow. A signal to all her councilmen, all the Dark Watchers in the tent, that Sindri the Wild of the Unfettered was the heir to their kingdom. Nivek’s son, the future king of Dravenmoor.
The boy flushed. “I…I might be able to help my uncle, Lady.”
Jordis nudged her son. “She is a queen.”
“I mean, Queen.”
Elisabet’s eyes brightened. “How can you help him?”
Sindri shifted back and forth on his feet. “Well, I got the same stuff as my father. I’ve got soul craft.”
“What is your craft?”
Gammal mentioned the boy was interesting. We’d never thought to ask if Nivek’s son had craft.
“I, uh, I tell souls what to do. It’s not exactly good, I suppose. And it, uh, it makes me wobbly for a bit. Sometimes I retch if it takes too long.”
Yanson chuckled. “Hear that, men? The gods brought us another soul chainer. Haven’t had one of those for a few hundred seasons.”
“A soul chainer?” Jordis draped an arm around Sindri’s bony shoulders.
“It’s what we call someone who can command a soul to do something against its will.”
“Saw my uncle do it.” Sindri flashed Roark a smile. “Convinced old Brokk to burn down his own house.”
Elisabet frowned at Roark. “You possessed a man?”
Roark waved her away. I encouraged an idea.
