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“I hoped from the earliest days this would happen.” Emi patted Roark’s face. “You deserve it, cousin. Perhaps you’ll learn to smile a bit more.”

Roark only scowled in return.

Eyes wet, Emi took hold of my hand. “You are Draven now, Ly. You are my folk. I love you as I’d love any sister.”

A sting built behind my eyes when I embraced her again. Draven. I was not only a melder, not a Jorvan servant. I was now a Draven by bond. To the damn royal house.

Gods, how the twisted Norns spun their webs of fate.

Gunter glanced at our bound hands and wiggled his fingers. “Now let us see.”

Roark unfurled his hand from mine and lifted our fingers. My eyes widened. Soft, nearly iridescent bands of gold flashed over our skin, dainty runes that glowed like the first spark of a flame. When the light faded into my skin, a sharp bite followed, but the rune marks still glistened over our flesh.

I shook out my palms, and Roark clenched his fists.

At long last the sting faded, and Gunter barked a laugh. “Took straightaway. Not that I doubted. Good gods, I have never been connected to such a bond. The only trouble came with that damn deledan. Skul Drek seemed to want you only for himself, Lyra.”

I arched one brow. “I am his if I am Roark’s.”

“He saw it differently.” Gunter lifted our hands to the others.

Brynn beamed at us. Auki gave a small applause. Emi wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm.

Gunter shook our hands. “Sealed as mates of the soul, in this life and the next.”

17

Lyra

I did not know how many bell tolls had passed, nor did I care much. My arm was slung over Roark’s bare chest, tracing the place over his heart, one leg coiled around his beneath the furs and quilts. Naked, sated, sweaty, and blissful.

I never wanted to move.

As though reading my thoughts, Roark brushed his fingers over my cheek. We will need to face them eventually.

I nuzzled into the soft down of the pillow. “Tomorrow.”

A breathless chuckle followed, but Roark said nothing, merely dragged his fingers up and down my spine, watching the cold gray of dawn slice through the small crack in the shades.

“They’re fading.” I held his palm in front of my face, inspecting the strange, inked runes from the sealing.

They will, he explained. But they are always there and can be summoned if needed. They’re unique to us.

“Why do they appear?”

My brother once told me they are written from the hopes of our fallen ancestors. A story they hope our souls will craft while we live.

I studied the runes. Marks of power and strength, of long lives and honor, they were runes of battle and love. I pressed a kiss to the center of his palm and let it fall to the place over my heart.

“What will they do to us, Roark?” My words were soft, the slightest tremble evident, and I hated the vulnerability. If Roark had fears or reservations regarding the rashness of the soul sealing, he did not show it.

With one knuckle, Roark tilted up my chin. He used the same hand to speak against my skin. By law you are not only a melder, Lyra. You are Draven. To harm you, or me even, goes against everything the clan believes about their craft.

House Bien belonged to Dravenmoor, body, heart, and soul.

The tip of my finger ran along the stubbled edge of his jaw. “You ought to know, Kael will be furious with us for not waiting for him. He had grand plans of terrifying anyone who desired to make me a wife.”

I will beg Darkwin’s forgiveness when he is free. His thumb tugged on my bottom lip. And he will be free.