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“Thank you for—”

“No need.” The prince shook his head. “Simply honor the bond between you. It is the greatest gift one can have, a true love that burns in the soul.”

Nivek looked about dreamily. Much the same as with his brother, it seemed souls were distractible, hardly there.

I waved a hand, drawing Nivek to look my way again. “The queen said you might have answers. We, uh, we seek the Wanderer’s bones.”

“You’d be wise to take care with your words.” The prince looked to the darkness at one side. “Do you not sense it? There are threads of craft reaching for you, Melder. Always. Enemies hunt you.”

“He’s here?” Ice filled my blood. I looked about for any glimpse of Fadey.

“Not yet.” Nivek’s voice was dark, harsh. “But there are powers seeking you here. We should not talk long lest they find you.”

“I will find them,” Skul Drek bit out. “Their souls will burn.”

A shiver danced up my spine.

Skul Drek grumbled. “The first king’s soul is hunted by the dark melder and my melder.”

“The one you sense is another melder,” I explained. “He hunts me to meld my bones to his since he believes I have the stronger craft to seek out the Wanderer’s lost bones.”

“You do. After all, you are the melder fated to destroy our world. Daughter of the god-queen.”

Fadey had insinuated a connection to the fabled queen much the same way. “I don’t understand.”

Nivek smiled with a touch of sadness. “You summon me now because of what I know, yes? You wish me to aid you on this deadly quest?”

“Queenie says answers are in the souls of princely brothers.” Skul Drek paced behind me.

“Nivek.” I called him by name when his attention fell to somewhere in the distant shadows again. “Your mother believes some of the Wanderer’s bones might be over the Night Ledges. At least some connection to him.” I spoke soft as a breeze and looked around as though Fadey might be standing behind me. Alone, I went on, my voice low. “She said you would have answers. Did you hide a shard?”

The prince smirked. “Not as you might think. Nor, I daresay, are the bones you seek exactly as you imagine.”

“Four bones of the Wanderer,” Skul Drek grumbled. “Four pieces lost. The arm, to swing the sword. The ribs, to wear his armor. The—”

“The breast, to have his warrior’s heart,” Nivek interrupted. “And the skull, for his wisdom. Yes, I know the tale, brother. And I say again, not all is as it seems when it comes to the Wanderer’s bones.”

Damn the cruel gods. Could anything ever be clear?

“Prophecies were seen and written about the dangers you now face,” Nivek said.

“And set the Thief King out to hunt my melder.” Shadows around Skul Drek thickened with his disdain for King Damir.

The man would always be the Thief King to my husband.

Nivek did not acknowledge the outburst. “You wish to know what we were told? I shall tell you, then: Gifts of the Wanderer form within the heirs of bone, blood, and soul when a god-queen’s daughter finds life of her own. Through death, hate, and war, she unites these crafts once thought broken, forevermore. Heed not this fate and leave the divide, then blood will come and three kingdoms shall not survive.”

Cold, worse than the frosted air of the mirror, bit against my flesh. Long, flowing mists curled around my waist, dragging me into the cloak of Skul Drek. He clacked his teeth at the prince, a warning, a bit of rage at the words.

“Those were the words of the seer?” I whispered.

Elisabet hugged her middle. “We interpreted her first words to mean the firstborn heirs of every kingdom would have some connection to ancient craft. But we did not understand how it was possible that war and death were in our futures. Because of this, the clans agreed to meet. Every kingdom in a moment of truce.”

I looked at Nivek. He kept glancing to the shadows as though searching for someone. Roark’s brother was the firstborn. If he knew the perceived connection, if he hid some piece of the Wanderer over the Night Ledges, did it mean he’d known his life was at risk?

I did not have time to ask before Elisabet went on. “By the time the seer came, every clan had a firstborn heir. Each clan took some pride in believing their child had a destiny of power.”

She spoke of Yrsa, the heir of Myrda. Of Prince Thane.