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I knew what Lyra was doing, hopefully giving Thane a chance to be brought in as an ally. If he did not murder me for my lies first. I could not shake the notion that to defeat Fadey we would need allies within Stonegate.

As fiercely as Lyra needed to free Darkwin, I needed to somehow speak to Thane.

The prince would think me a traitor, he would hate me, no mistake. But Thane was not a fool, and he would not allow the corruption his mother and Fadey desired to go on. He would stand with us, even reluctantly.

There would be no attempt to speak to the prince if war began before we had the chance.

Lyra paused, and I pressed against her spine. Tell them of the hunt. Most will already know.

Gammal had spoken to the úlfur about the melder. They would understand the Jorvan’s desire to have the Wanderer’s bones.

Lyra cleared her throat. “Damir wished to have the Wanderer’s bones melded to him.”

The council grumbled and grunted. Disdain shifted off my wife to the dead Jorvan king for a moment. A king they did not know was gone.

“What caused you to finally flee?” Yanson pressed.

The queen spoke instead. “My son explained this to me already.”

Darkness thickened around me and Lyra from my soul as the tension deepened. The queen couldn’t speak of Fadey, or I had few doubts Lyra would be barricaded away to keep her from the melder and Ingir.

I glared at the queen, ready to slice at her soul should she give up the truth too soon.

My mother merely held my stare as she spoke. “Melding craft is coveted and feared, as we know. My son informed me that the melder had been attacked. He believed the risk was too great to remain, so they fled.”

“Fled,” Virki said in a growl. “But not to us. Your son was not coming home; he was aiming for the Night Ledges. So much like his brother.”

My brow arched. I did not recall when Nivek held any fascination for the Night Ledges.

“Do you blame him for not bringing her to us, Virki?” Yanson asked, interrupting my thoughts. “What am I asking, of course you do. Perhaps you do not recall what a bond is like, but I assure you, there is no god, no army, who would cause me to willingly walk Drifa into danger.”

Gunter leaned through the murky shadows, hardly bothered by the mists of the darker soul, and tapped Lyra on the shoulder. “She’s my mother.”

With a wink he went back to attention, a new look of pride on his features when he regarded his father.

“Royal sjeleven sealings ought to be brought to the council before a weaving,” Sampson snapped. “It is an act worthy of council involvement.”

“There is no law stating permission from the úlfur must be in place,” a frail-looking councilman—Hugo, if I recalled correctly—mumbled from beneath a tattered cowl. A tome bound in pigskin was open in front of him. Histories and Draven law were written in those pages.

Gods, the endless days studying with tutors returned to haunt me with that tome in view.

Hugo opened the front, and pages crinkled and snapped as he riffled through the front few. His hooked finger pointed to a place on one page.

“A true soul bond is a gift from the Norns of fate and the gods themselves. For a bond to seal fully would mean it is accepted by those gods and the souls gone before us. A soul sealing will supersede any tradition, including pomp and ceremony for royal blood.”

“Didn’t say it was law, Hugo,” said Sampson. “Merely said a royal sealing of souls is of note. Puts her in a position to take one of our damn thrones in the future. Shouldn’t we ought to know?”

“The úlfur might’ve been welcomed into such an occasion had you not been vying to take my head all this time.” Lyra’s voice was harsh, almost reminiscent of the ferocity I felt when I was engulfed in shadows. She turned a narrow glare to each member. “If you had but honored a bond I’ve learned this clan holds so sacred, I wonder how much blood would not have spilled over the seasons. I wonder how I might’ve helped stop the soul bones long ago instead of hiding the scars in my eyes. What the world might’ve been if you’d not let pitiful fear and a seer’s words weaken your spines.”

Her fist slammed on the table on her final word. Somehow inside my thoughts, I could feel a different meaning behind her words. No mistake, due to our new connections, I knew Lyra hinted more at the pain I would not have endured if they’d accepted a boy’s word during the raids, if they’d brought the young melder to our gates so long ago.

Nivek would be alive.

As would my father.

I would have a voice.

I would’ve had Lyra all this time.