Page 25

“True enough.” Gunter leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. “But I’d still like a bit of credit for not even attempting to kill you, Melder. A mark of good faith, don’t you think?”

“Same for me,” Auki said through a long gulp from his horn.

Much like my first interactions with Prince Thane, when I was certain King Damir would slaughter Kael and bind me in an iron cage, my head reeled at the oddities of their words, their actions.

I turned back toward Brynn—Roark’s betrothed.

Desire for power rotted the corridors of Stonegate. Even in my old town Skalfirth, I’d witnessed more than one hopeful father step into Jarl Jakobson’s hall, attempting to marry daughters to his heir, Mikkal.

True, Brynn had not drawn her blade, but doors were closed and fewer eyes were watching now.

She held my scrutiny with a touch of her own before she spoke. “Our father was a trusted adviser and friend to King Vishon. Naturally, our houses would arrange a bond. My betrothal was decided three days after my birth. The prince had not even met a full season of life.”

“You speak as though it was nothing to you, yet you made your position known straightaway.”

“I simply thought that by telling you, it would explain why Virki Wolfstone was so delighted at the sight of us. By sending you with us, Elisabet was appeasing the bloodlust many Dravens hold for your craft. They will think we are mistreating you.”

“A little brilliant if you think about it. I’ll accept praise for being part of the scheme whenever you wish to give it,” Gunter said, still picking at his fingernails.

They spoke almost…playfully. I didn’t understand any of it.

“So”—I cleared my throat and unfurled my fists—“you don’t desire him?”

Brynn’s lips curled with a new sort of cunning. “I didn’t, until I saw how damn stunning that man has become. Gods, did you see the size of him? The pure feral rage in his eyes? His hands.” Brynn hummed in delight until her brother strode past and shoved her shoulder, laughing.

Something bitter knotted in my chest, something like jealousy. The hands of Roark Ashwood had been mine not so long ago, and for the first time I would admit—to myself alone—that I did not want those damn hands to touch anyone but me.

Now Brynn laughed. “Stop looking at me like you want to pluck out my eyes. I’m not going to seduce the prince away from you.”

“But you do desire him.”

“In truth, woman to woman, I just desire someone.” Brynn slouched in the chair. “Do you know how difficult it is to find a proper man to bed you when you were playmates with most of them? They start to see you as one of the men, not a lover with, frankly, unmet needs.”

“Ahh, stop.” Auki flinched, waving one hand. “You have never been bedded, and if I find out any bastard has ever tried, he will lose his hands.”

Brynn snorted and Gunter made a sensual sort of gesture at her until her brother rammed his fist into Gunter’s chest.

Emi took in her fellow Dravens, a little befuddled, like she’d expected viciousness and instead was met with…this.

At long last, Brynn sobered. “I was eleven when Roark was exiled, Melder. We knew of our betrothal, but our souls never fashioned a bond. Such things tend to make themselves clear.”

“How?”

Brynn lifted one shoulder. “I hear it’s different for everyone who is fortunate to find the other half of their soul. But it’s a feeling, a draw to them, a love so deep you cannot fathom a world without them.”

I hugged my own middle against the rush of heat in my belly. Roark Ashwood had pulled me into his maelstrom of darkness from the moment I met his eyes in the great hall in Skalfirth.

“But not everyone finds a sjeleven,” Brynn explained. “You know what that is, right?”

I nodded briskly. “Most clans have some version of mates of the soul.”

“Good. The prince and I made a vow as young ones that should either of us find a soul bond, then we would be free to seal it if desired.”

“Seal it?”

“It completes a bond,” Gunter offered. “It’s a powerful ceremony and only done to those whose souls connect.”

A shadow coated Brynn’s features. “I was young but understood well enough my prince, my friend, was torn in two because his soul had the misfortune of craving the forbidden.”