Page 5
“But he hurt you.”
“And made certain much of the clan assumed I was the result of an unfaithful wife, not a true Draven. Who will they believe? The bone crafter who lived half her life among our enemies? Or my father, the late king’s brother? Please find trust for Roark. Soon, he may be all you have.”
A sharp, twisted knot gathered deep in my belly. Emi truly believed she was striding to her death.
A new sort of heat flooded my veins. “Then you stay close to me.”
“Lyra, you can do nothing for me. I left my clan as a fugitive. There is no helping me, but you…you and Roark must find a way to stop—”
“Ready to cross the ravines!” a Dark Watcher shouted down the line.
Emi blew out a rough breath. She reached for my hand, squeezing. “Listen to me: Elisabet won’t kill you, not right away. She’ll want answers for what broke the control of Skul Drek.”
Emi straightened when two Dark Watch warriors drew near. A hand fell to the small of my back. Roark. Unease carved into the sharp lines of his face.
Against my spine, his fingers moved, gently, carefully, gesturing his command. Cross with me.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek and peered over the stony cliffside of the ravine.
The Red Ravines were deep fissures lined with crimson-leaf aspen trees. From warm months to frosts, the bloody shade of the leaves never fell away, only deepened in color from vibrant fire red to rich burgundy.
Between the twisted trunks were sharp, stony ridges the shade of rusted iron. Specks of inky black jutted through the shade, and I knew more than one blade was made from the dark ore. Whether the soil had some element that stained everything from the rocks to the leaves red, I didn’t know. Most lore on the ravines insisted that great claws from the gods’ wolves carved the soil, digging so deep the land bled.
A single unsteady step, and one would fall to their death onto the jagged stones in the river below.
Where the Dark Watch led us revealed five bridges. But not secure, wide bridges. These were made of a rope below and a rope above. Already, Dark Watchers were striding out onto the taut strands.
They fastened blades, arrows, and bows to their belts, then held firmly to the line overhead and walked out over the gaping canyon.
I swallowed against a thick knot in my throat. “We’re crossing? Like that?”
Roark regarded me with an unreadable expression as he spoke with one palm. It is the only way forward unless we take open roads to the shore, where Jorvans may find us.
Naturally the Dark Watch would avoid their enemies and take the most foolish, dangerous path to do so.
Before I could respond, a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, gripping me tightly and drawing me too close to the edge.
A Dark Watch warrior beamed through the gruesome streaks of kohl down his young features. “Melder, seems I’m to see to it that you cross the ravine. Hold tight, now. I’d truly hate to see you fall and snap your pretty neck.”
3
Roark
Gunter Blackvale was going to die.
Forget our history—friends since the time I could walk—too much time had passed and now the bastard was going to split into pieces on the ravine floor.
Upon the first touch of Lyra, I had the knife I kept sheathed above my ankle in hand. In three paces, I was at his back. And in the next breath, I had my blade pressed against the hollow of his throat.
Gunter had the gall to look stunned.
“What are you doing?” His brows tugged together, and his wild eyes were still the shade of lavender blooms, but now they were filled with a strange sort of wounded heat. “Get your knife off me. You were never as swift as me, and I’ll prove that truth remains. What’s with the look? Oh, are you taking some great offense I haven’t addressed you formally? What a snob you are.”
I didn’t understand how the man could have grown so dense, but—still with my blade under his chin—the fool bowed at the waist, his eyes rolled up to hold mine.
“Satisfied, my prince? Now, step back, so I can see her on the rope properly.”
What in the two hells was he doing?
