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Perhaps it was from absorbing the strength of Skul Drek through our bond, but a depraved need to destroy Fadey flooded my hopes, my thoughts, to the point of obsession.

“I wonder what would happen to you if I took power from the Wanderer’s bones?” I tilted my head, sneering at Fadey. “What could I do to you if I summoned it, even for a moment?”

“Then you kill those you love. Their blood is needed, and you’ll need to take out their bones.” Fadey kicked. He writhed and tugged. He roared in anger when the ropes of darkness would not free his soul.

“No. You’re wrong. You always were wrong. If I have the blood of the god-queen, then I can summon all the crafts. Only the Wanderer needed to use melding to take power. But the god-queen, she united all, shared craft with all.”

With every word spoken, something burned inside me. There was a draw to Fadey’s bones, like I might be able to reshape the whole of his body and bones.

“Bold princes stand near, Melder,” the graveled rasp of Skul Drek breathed across my neck.

To my side, a mere five arms away, Thane’s soul burned like sputtering kindling.

I grinned. The fervor of bone craft was roving off him. Under my scrutiny, the glow of the prince shifted into a shade so brilliant, I shielded my eyes against it.

In all our acquaintance, I’d never felt craft radiating from the prince. But something within my own craft now reached for a tendril of power within him. As though I’d found a new door within my own power and unbolted the latch, awakening something fierce. Something ancient.

I could take Thane’s remnant for my own use. The thought burrowed within my heart like a spreading plague.

Threads to unstitch the bit of the Wanderer’s claim on bone craft were there in his soul, burning and thrashing.

Beneath my touch, I could unweave them. I could take them for myself. I could leave the prince shredded and bled out of the craft he’d unknowingly carried in his bones.

Or I could use it.

Another thought coated the dark thirst to steal Thane’s remnant. No more seriously than asking the prince to pass an ewer of wine, I felt I could reach for the threads spinning in his soul and draw them to me.

My craft could weave his power with mine for something…greater.

A uniter of all the gods’ magics.

Another flash sparked. I turned and could make out the forms of Yrsa and Emi nearby. They both were crouched, with their feet parted, facing away. Like they stood between me and enemy blades.

Much like Prince Thane, the princess burned brighter, sharper, the longer my attention poured into her soul. Unlike Thane, Yrsa’s heirloom craft from the Wanderer sparked in a rich crimson, like fresh blood. Tangled amid the gold of her soul, I could make out the delicate fibers of ancient craft, strands of gossamer webbed around her natural-born blood craft.

Yrsa was wrong. She was a powerful blood crafter. Likely had been all her life. Words of a cruel father, of protective tutors, of the life of a shielded royal, no doubt had led her to think she was of little value save for a marriage alliance with a stronger kingdom.

I reached out my fingertips, and a thick red thread split from the princess, just below her heart. Where her ribs would be.

The tendril was strong and rippled in the darkness like I’d dropped a fraying tapestry beneath the water, flowing and bending on an unseen tide.

Take it. Destroy it.

Or use it.

“Melder.” Skul Drek clacked his teeth. His fists tightened, and the coiling shadows binding Fadey appeared strained.

We were running out of time.

I spun toward the edge of the battlefield. The beat of my heart outside the mirror realm must’ve raced, for the sheen of my soul flickered with urgency.

Between the emerald gleam of two fara souls was the huddled shape of a lanky boy.

Sindri’s body was alight with gold, young and strong. Then, like the others, around his heart—where the breastbone might be—was a tangle of flowing threads of craft the rich blue of a peaceful sea. Brine and smoke filled pockets in my lungs, coating my throat with each draw of air.

Soul craft was heady. I lifted one palm, and a blue thread slithered free of Sindri’s shine, reaching for me.

Fadey roared his frustration and cursed my soul. He kicked and thrashed. He warned me that the power would consume me.