Page 79
“We must retrieve it. If I am to unite all the bones to save these realms from falling in needless battles, then so be it. But in truth, I want to find them merely to keep them from Fadey.”
“I hid it quite well, but I will say again, not all is as it seems,” Nivek said. “Go over the Ledges, to the River Clan. You will learn what you need to know. What comes after will be up to the Norns.”
Vague. Not exactly helpful, but with Fadey invading the mirror, it wasn’t unwise to speak in such a way.
“Will you tell me where you hid the bone? What it looks like? How large?”
“I cannot say. I hope the bone has grown strong and sturdy after all these seasons. When you find the one who now holds it, tell him I wait for him in Salur. Tell them both. Won’t you?”
He left the bone with someone over the Night Ledges? Perhaps two people? “I will tell them, if they even trust us.”
“Wise thought. Tell them this and they should trust you: memories are always inked on my heart, my bones, and my soul.”
Elisabet studied her son with a touch of uncertainty, as though she wanted to press him for more, but bit her tongue.
Skul Drek trailed a cold finger down my arm. “Time grows short.”
The mirror would need to fade. Roark could not remain divided for so long. Already, Nivek wore the same whimsical smile, like his thoughts were drifting elsewhere. “Brother.”
It took a nudge from my hand to draw Skul Drek’s attention from me to the soul of the prince.
“Remember the tale I have told you tonight. It would be wise to recall that you will need the firstborns of craft. Don’t forget them, for they have a part in this fate, and if it fails, they will not survive, much the same as the kingdoms.”
“Wait.” Panic tightened in my throat. “Are you saying Thane and Yrsa are in danger?”
Nivek took a step back. “Just keep them in mind as you go. Mother.” Nivek waited until Elisabet looked to him. “Father misses you and saves a place at his side for when you meet again.”
She pressed a hand to her heart, and the faintest glimmer of something golden burned from the second bone in my palm to the queen. Dozens of silky threads from her head to her foot, much the same as mine to her son.
My breath caught.
As the rot and decay of the mirror faded, as the playful gleam of the prince who’d saved me returned to wherever he rested, I knew the truth—the Draven queen carried with her a soul bond.
One that had never broken.
25
Lyra
Three days since meeting his fallen brother, Roark’s fatigue still left him sleeping like the dead each night.
Each day after the nightly meal, I could see the exhaustion settle in and insisted he let his craft recover. The control needed to hold our souls in the mirror for so great a time made him come damn close to collapsing.
Sleep abandoned me well before dawn. Seated on the edge of the bed, I brushed a lock of his dark hair to the side.
He slept with a furrowed brow, like he might be in pain or still locked in the constant rage of Skul Drek. With my thumb, I rubbed away the tension until he sighed in his sleep.
Pain lived in the gold of his eyes when we emerged from the trance. Roark tried to hide it, naturally, but it was there. An ache, a longing, one I only saw in his features when Thane was mentioned.
Doubtless, Roark—this part of my husband—yearned to speak to his brother without the rage, the obsession, the bloodlust of the crueler layers of Skul Drek.
I leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to his temple.
In the corridor, Emi was there, braiding the end of her hair. “I feel this is retribution for all those mornings I woke you before first light in Stonegate.”
I snickered. “Don’t feign like you were sleeping. You, Emi Nightlark, are the only soul I know who greets every sunrise.”
“How is he?” she asked when we emerged into the outer courtyard.
