“Your Highness,” Auma said in a low, smooth tone with a bow. She spoke to me, but her eyes were only for Kiva, who’d gone rigid. The unspoken words leaping between them thickened the air.
“Auma,” I replied. “I’m glad to see you’re all right, but what are you doing here?” The last we’d seen her, she’d been fighting Vykryn in Razel’s throne room with a group of Trendellan monks so we could escape. It was thanks to her we were free.
Finally, she tore her eyes away from Kiva, who let out a heavy breath. Auma’s gaze glided over Samra and Caylus, narrowed briefly on Ericen, then paused on Res before settling at last on me. “Your sister sent word that you’d be coming by ship. With the presence of the blockade, it made sense you’d dock here in Terin.” She turned her horse. “You should follow me. Illucia hasn’t been foolish enough to step on Trendellan soil yet, but I don’t want to tempt them.” The soldiers behind her parted, the crowd edging away to grant them room, and we followed.
People muttered to one another as we passed. Most were dressed in layers of sheer, brightly colored clothing, draped over their bodies like flowing robes. Many split in a deep V or hung open like coats, the men bare-chested, the women with elegantly embroidered bands of cloth across their breasts, baring dark skin to the hot sun.
The wooden dock didn’t so much as creak beneath the weight. It was so sturdy and well built that Caylus actually paused to investigate the spot where one of the supports met the dock. I grabbed his arm as I passed, hauling him along. If he stopped and investigated every piece of impressive Trendellan engineering we passed, we’d never leave this port.
Ericen’s eyes followed my hands to where they clasped Caylus’s arm. Reflexively, I let go, then cursed myself. One corner of the prince’s lips turned up in a smile.
“Something amusing?” I asked. Two of Auma’s soldiers had taken over guarding him, leaving Kiva free to talk with her. The guards marched at his back, and I fell into line beside him.
“What? Can’t I be happy?”
“Happy to be shackled and imprisoned by your enemy?”
“Ex-enemy,” he corrected. “And I don’t care if you bind me hand and foot, so long as you’re the one who does it, that is.” A flush tore through my face, and Ericen laughed. “Joking, Thia. But you should have seen your face.” He said it with a smile that made me think that, joking or not, he’d also been serious. His voice dropped low. “Admit it, you missed me.”
“I’ve moved on.”
“Then why are you still wearing my gloves?” His bright eyes appraised them, somehow managing to make me feel exposed despite my wearing the uniform of one of the most powerful warriors in all six kingdoms.
“I meant what I said in that letter,” he added more softly. “I’m on your side. It’s the only place I want to be.” He held my gaze as if he might press his sincerity into it. I hadn’t noticed before, but a little furrow formed between his brows whenever his eyes narrowed.
I wanted to believe him. He’d jumped into a roiling sea to save me, for Saints’ sake! But I couldn’t forget the betrayal I’d felt that day in the throne room, when he’d stood by and done nothing as his mother tortured my friends.
Now he seemed determined to do everything he could to make up for that. But how could I trust him?
Movement on his other side caught my eye, and I found Samra watching me disapprovingly. I stepped back, putting space between the prince and myself. Technically, Samra still hadn’t sworn to this coalition. What did she think of me talking so openly with a boy who was meant to be our enemy? We may have reached an understanding, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still closely evaluating me.
We turned down a broad, open street teeming with life.
Like the clothing its people wore, the town of Terin overflowed with color. Buildings of deep cobalt blue, bright winter green, sunset orange, and buttermilk yellow stretched as far as I could see. Everywhere I turned, there were archways: archways instead of doors, archways beneath a bridge connecting two buildings, archways standing on their own as art, the pillars carved with delicate flowers and vines. Like in the Ambriels, remnants of the Sellas stood in the shape of statues or spread across buildings in brightly painted murals.
It felt peaceful here. Alive. My chest tightened.
It felt like Aris before Ronoch.
A strange feeling pulled me deeper toward the city, tugging like a rope. I wanted to keep walking, but Auma turned into a narrow side street before drawing her horse to a halt. She dismounted, her movements lithe and silent, and an image of her slitting a Vykryn’s throat flashed through my mind. I still had no idea who she truly was.
I glanced at Kiva, whose disquieted expression suggested she was thinking the same thing.
“We can lodge here for the night,” Auma said. “In the morning, I’ll lead you to Eselin. It’s about a two-day journey.”
A line of tension snapped in my shoulders, and I let out a quiet breath. We’d made it.
We filed into the inn through an arched door, a spacious room stretching out before us. Small, neatly organized bookcases leaned against every available wall space, plush couches gathered around them, half-hidden by burnt-orange and saffron-yellow drapes.
A woman wearing brilliant purple and yellow robes rose from behind a low wooden counter, a smile crossing her full lips. It only faltered for a second when she saw Res, who’d had to squeeze through the broad, arched door. Her eyes switched from him to me and back again, and whatever conclusion she came to, it involved not asking.
“Miss Tyshi.” She addressed Auma. “How may I help you?”
Kiva stiffened, and it occurred to me she might not have known Auma’s last name. Yet another reminder that the girl she’d come to care for was full of secrets.
“I need rooms,” Auma replied.
Well, at least that hadn’t changed—she was as blunt with her words as she’d ever been.
The woman ran a finger along a ledger laid out across the counter, then spun about and gathered several keys from hooks hanging at her back. “Follow me,” she instructed, coming around the counter and leading us down a hall to our right.
We followed, splitting up into our rooms. Samra went to one, a few of the soldiers splitting off into several others. The last I saw of Kiva and Auma before they disappeared around a corner was the two of them walking side by side, each curving in toward the other, like a pair of roses stretching up toward the sun.
The sight made me pause outside my door. I looked back to where one of the three soldiers left with Ericen unlocked a door.
The urge to say something else rose and died in my throat. There had always been something between us. Something that shifted depending on the light, leaving me constantly unsure of what I saw. He stared back with an open frankness, as if to say “ask of me what you will.”
“Good night,” I said.
He smiled as a guard opened the door. “Good night.”
I stepped into my room, Res shuffling in after me. With a flap of his wings, he leapt up onto the bed and collapsed in a flurry of feathers, promptly taking over the entire thing, his wings draping off the sides.
“Res?”
He emitted a sound akin to a groan. Emotions pulsed through the connection, flickers of shame and apology and fear.
“Oh, Res.” He looked ridiculous flopped down like he was, his wings askew and his beak buried in the blanket. The bed creaked with his weight.
I lay down on my side next to him, my wounds protesting. One bright gray eye opened to peer at me, mournful and tired.
“I’m okay,” I reminded him. My shoulder and back ached, but they’d heal. “You saved us today. Without you, Razel would have captured our ship and taken me prisoner.” I ran my fingers along the ridge of his neck, and he squeezed his eye shut. “We’ll learn to control your magic,” I promised.
Doubt flooded the
bond, underlain by fear, and he shook his head. The beat of emotion resolved like a chant in my head: no no no no no.
“You don’t want to control it?” I asked a second before understanding settled. “You don’t want to use it.”
Res looked at me, then shut his eye again, curling in on himself. My hand still rested on his back, the coiled tension running through him hard as stone.
I didn’t know what to say.
Without Res’s magic, Trendell wouldn’t listen to us. A six-foot-tall crow, while impressive, couldn’t stop an army. But the steady thrum of pain and fear rushing from Res tore at me, and I knew I couldn’t push him. I didn’t want him to hurt like this.
“It’s okay,” I said again, my voice choked. “It’s okay.”
Res shifted, his head against me. He was far too big to fit in my arms, but I held him as best I could anyway.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered.
Thirteen
Some of Auma’s soldiers had risen early to collect supplies and additional horses. Thankfully, they’d taken Res into consideration and had an entire chicken’s worth of meat for him when we emerged into the common room. I expected him to gobble it down like he always did, but instead I had to coax him into eating every piece.
“Is he all right?” Kiva asked, strapping Sinvarra around her waist.
I shook my head.
A door down the hall opened, and Auma exited, her fingers nimbly tying off a final braid.
I looked from the door to Kiva. “That’s the room you came out of this morning.”
She smiled sheepishly, and I nearly toppled over. I’d never seen an expression like that on her face.
“Nothing happened,” she hissed. “We just talked.”
“And slept. Together. In the same bed.”
She swatted at me and I laughed, dancing out of her reach. My amusement faded as Ericen and his guards joined us. The prince didn’t look to have slept, and an air of tension prickled between him and his guards.
He still flashed me a smirk when he saw me staring. I quickly looked away, reflexively seeking out Samra. Ericen and I needed to talk, but I worried the captain would judge me for it and hold it against me during the alliance meeting. What would the other leaders say if she told them I was friendly with the enemy prince?
We made for a strange group as we set off through Terin’s streets. Res coasted on a current above us, though he kept sending hints of questioning annoyance toward me, as if he didn’t understand why he didn’t get a horse too.
That simple flicker of self-indulgent Res-ness made me breathe a little easier.
Ericen had been denied a horse per Kiva’s argument that it would make escape far too easy. Instead, she’d secured one end of a long rope to his restraints and the other to the saddle of her horse, looking far too pleased with the arrangement.
At the edge of town, we followed a wide, dirt path into green grassland, sparsely populated with bush-like trees. Bright orange and yellow flowers popped up through the long fingers of grass, swaying in a gentle breeze that chased the worst of the heat from our skin.
Auma had given each of us a thin, light scarf to protect our necks and faces from the sun, and by early afternoon, we’d all lifted them into place.
I thought about asking Res to give us a fog cover, but I could still feel his ever-present fear about his powers, a feeling that was beginning to worry me more and more. I’d hoped time would ease his franticness about what had happened, but I could still feel him coiled tight, as if curled around a wound. There had to be a way to help him.
If I couldn’t, this would all be for nothing.
As we rode, that feeling from the day before rose up in me again. A gentle tugging, almost like the cord between Res and me. It would come and go like a breeze, so faint and fickle I was half convinced I was imagining it. More than once, I caught Aroch studying me from Kiva’s shoulders when the feeling evaded me, as if he saw something I couldn’t.
I broke from the cat’s strange gaze by ducking my horse behind Caylus’s and pulling up on his other side. He fiddled with something on the horse’s back.
“Is that a glass arrow?” I asked, surprised to see the Illucian weapon in his hands.
“I took it from the ship.” He turned it over in his hands. The glass shaft had a strange cast to it, as if impure. “They use them so earth and battle crows can’t deflect them, right?”
I nodded. “Wind still works, but it’s hard for a crow to do when they’re being shot at from more than one direction, and it’s not as reactive. Not to mention it’s hard to control where it goes afterward.” I tapped the point. “That’s Alorr metal. It’s incredibly lightweight and durable, and it’s only found in the Alorr Caves in Jindae. It wasn’t until Razel conquered them that Illucia introduced the arrows to their arsenal. Like black gold, it’s too refined for a crow to manipulate.”
“Hmm.” Caylus turned the arrow over without looking at it, his eyes rolled up slightly to the side. Recognizing the look, I dropped back to give him space. He’d be lost in his thoughts for a while.
We traveled until the sun began to set, the terrain shifting from rolling grasslands to patches of wide, sparse trees with bushels of leaves. When the trees began to coalesce, forming a thin forest, we found a shaded spot and set up camp.
Res all but collapsed onto his back, his wings spread wide in a dramatic flourish, as the soldiers set about laying out bedrolls.
Ericen hardly seemed bothered from the trek, though he scowled as Kiva tied his bound hands to the exposed root of a tree, forcing him to sit with them lashed behind his back. I wanted to say something, but I could practically feel Samra watching me.
After tending to the horses, we ate and retired to sleep.
Rolling onto my side, I stared through the canopy at the spread of stars. We were a day’s ride from Eselin, set to arrive late tomorrow afternoon, the day before Belin’s Day. Soon, Trendell would either agree to support Rhodaire against Illucia or leave us to our fate.
What was I supposed to say to them?
Dread crept along my skin like a scurrying insect. The kingdoms’ leaders weren’t the only people I had to face tomorrow. I touched the empty spot on my wrist where a feathered bracelet had once hung.
Estrel.
She’d been like a mother to me, and I’d thought her dead. All this time, she’d been hiding, abandoning Caliza and me with a failing kingdom.
Tomorrow, I would ask her why, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for her answer.
A gentle breeze rustled the leaves. As it settled, I heard something shift, like the scrape of small rocks being ground into dirt.
I rolled onto my back and froze.
Standing above me, the moonlight turning his blue eyes to glittering ice, stood Ericen.
My breath caught in my throat. He was there long enough to meet my gaze, and then he was gone, slipping silently deeper into the forest. I lay there, my heart stuttering back to life in a jagged beat, knowing he meant for me to follow.
As quietly as I could, I laced on my boots, strapped on my bow and quiver, and went after him. The guard who’d been watching him snored softly against the trunk of a tree, and a small knife lay discarded beside the remnants of the rope binding Ericen to the tree. He must have slipped it from one of the guards earlier.
I found the prince standing in a circle of moonlight. The beams flowed like ribbons through the canopy, bathing the forest floor in an ethereal light and creating a dreamlike tableau—the whispering of the leaves, Ericen’s broad shadow on the grass, darker than night, the way he looked at me as if he both wanted to close the distance between us and couldn’t bear me coming a step closer.
“Well, this is certainly dramatic,” I noted.
He smirked. “I try.”
A severed rope dangled from the end of his shackles. I searched the d
ark for the glint of a blade. Despite defending him to Kiva, it still made me uneasy being out here alone with him. Even without the sleek black leather of his Vykryn’s uniform, his sharp features and rigid stance whispered of violence. Except I knew there was more to him than that, more than the training, the blood, and the steel that had consumed his life.
“We needed to talk, and you weren’t going to do it in front of the others,” he said.
“They’ll think you tried to escape.” Convincing them he wasn’t their enemy had already been hard enough.
He almost looked offended. “If I wanted to escape, I’d be gone.”
“I said ‘they.’ I—” I stopped, glancing up. A dark shape circled overhead, and a moment later, Res glided down on silent wings. He dropped something sharp and shining at Ericen’s feet: the knife the prince had used to cut his ropes.
I stared at it. “Res, what in the Saints’ name are you doing? Now is not the time to be giving out gifts.”
Ericen made no move to take the knife. He simply watched me and waited.
“What’s your angle?” I asked, my nerves rising. “Befriend the crow and hope he puts a good word in for you?”
Ericen leaned his weight to one side, giving the impression of a lounging jungle cat. “We do have quite a lot in common.”
“Such as an incredibly high opinion of yourselves.”
“I was going to say we’re both handsome and capable.”
“Like I said.”
He shrugged. “And we both have a habit of rescuing you. Perhaps that’s why, unlike everyone else, the crow seems to get that I’m not here to hurt you.”
Pulses of agreement thrummed along the bond along with several faint impressions. A storm. A figure falling. The raging sea.
Ericen had saved me when Res couldn’t.
“That was one time,” I said.
“Only because you ignored my warning the first time.” His expression tightened. “You didn’t believe me then and you don’t believe me now.”
The Crow Rider Page 11
