The Crow Rider

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The Crow Rider Page 18

by Kalyn Josephson


  He let the flames go and the shadows settle, let the rain fall and the wind quiet. Then he alighted effortlessly behind the growing crowd beside where Estrel had just arrived.

  Queen Luhara stepped forward. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Your Majesty.” I inclined my head. “I intended to submit a formal request in the morning for another meeting to discuss our kingdoms’ alliance, but I never have been very good at political conversation. You were concerned about Res’s abilities; it seemed more fitting to show you.”

  Res screeched again, flaring his wings to their full impressive width. Even in the dim light of the storm, they cast a shadow over the gasping crowd.

  “The Ambriels are with Rhodaire,” Estrel said with a nod to Samra, who returned it. “As is, recently, Jindae.”

  Queen Luhara looked to Elkona and Auma, who bowed their heads.

  “I’ve learned from my mother’s mistakes,” I said. “She tried to close Rhodaire to the world, thinking that would keep it safe. But in the end, it only made us weaker. I want to be better than her. I want to do better. Let me show you that I can. Ally with us. Help us defeat Illucia.”

  The snap of Res’s energy faded as he let the storm dissipate, his eyes returning to their normal gray as the sky outside thinned, blooming cobalt once more.

  In the resounding silence, the air felt alive.

  The queen surveyed us with scrutinizing eyes. Then she lifted her head, her strong voice carrying across the courtyard. “Trendell has been a nation at peace for as long as our history remembers. We have striven hard to remain neutral, to be a place of learning and growth, not destruction.”

  I stilled.

  She inclined her head. “But we recognize that a change is upon the world. If we do not act, we will be acted on. Trendell will ally with Rhodaire.”

  * * *

  I felt like a cloth someone had wrung dry, every ounce of emotion spent and gone. It left me feeling strangely light, as if a gentle breeze could carry me away. I’d be half-inclined to let it. After the queen had pledged Trendell to the alliance, we’d agreed to meet again the next morning to begin planning our defense. In the meantime, messenger birds were sent to Rhodaire as well as the soldiers waiting in the Ambriels and Jindae. One was even sent to Korovi in a plea for them to reconsider their position.

  Then the courtyard emptied, leaving me alone with Kiva, Estrel, Caylus, and Res. I sprawled out in the grass, releasing a breath it felt I’d been holding for a lifetime.

  “I can’t believe it worked.” My lips twitched, spreading into a grin. The feeling was infectious, matching smiles filling Estrel’s and Kiva’s faces.

  “Well done, Little Peep,” Estrel said, and my heart swelled.

  Twenty-Two

  I’d never seen such an amazing feast.

  The long corridor table had been laden with food and drink for the second of the three Belin’s Day feasts, from roasted lamb in a blackberry glaze to vegetables marinated in rosemary and oil and platters of fresh cheese and grapes. A three-tiered stand held everything from dark chocolate cake to creamy fruit tarts sprinkled with cocoa, and pitchers of wine sat beside jars of Rhodairen talcé. Vines of purple and white flowers wound up the table legs and draped across its surface, glowing in the light of hanging lanterns.

  A deep, sonorous string instrument intertwined with a lively drumbeat from out in the courtyard, and the chatter of people hummed in the air. Res scurried from person to person, gobbling down treats and scraps and dropped morsels.

  Caylus arrived late, his auburn curls tossed askew, his golden skin flushed as if he’d run up the compound’s many stairs. He dropped into the empty seat across from me.

  “Been out at more lectures?” I asked. He’d spent nearly all the time since our arrival down at the city’s university.

  “They’re amazing,” he replied, slightly breathless. His tunic pockets practically overflowed with trinkets. “I’ve been attending some on man-made materials, like the glass arrows the Illucians use. Did you know that different types of glass shatter with different sounds? They called it a resonant frequency, and—” He paused, realizing he’d begun to ramble, and I bit my lip to hold back a laugh. He smiled sheepishly. “Anyway, I’m working on a project I want to show you later.”

  “I’d love to see it,” I replied, relishing in this familiarity in everything around me. The sights, the smells, the sounds—they washed over me like a wave of sunlight, warm and full. Weeks ago, this moment had seemed incredibly far away. This morning, it had seemed impossible. Now it didn’t feel real.

  I’d made it to Trendell. I’d forged an alliance with the other kingdoms. I had a crow whose power transcended any I’d ever seen before.

  Now, I had a chance of protecting Rhodaire.

  Tomorrow, we would begin planning. Tonight, I relished in the simple feeling of being alive.

  I sat beside Elko, who was in the process of regaling me with a tale of how she’d once stolen the sword of a Korovi Miska warrior who’d come with a visiting ambassador. She was several cups of wine in, and her boisterousness had only grown.

  “She found me in the palace courtyard cutting down moonberry stalks,” she exclaimed. “She was so angry, she challenged me to a duel. Apparently touching a Miska’s sword is punishable by death.”

  I smirked, thinking of Kiva’s run-in with Shearen back in Seahalla. She’d wanted to run him through for stealing Sinvarra.

  Reflexively, I scanned the courtyard for her, but she still hadn’t arrived. Auma was also missing. Caylus sat across from us, his head buried in an ancient-looking tome on glass working, and Estrel was deep in conversation with Samra, Aroch lounging across her shoulders.

  “Anyway,” Elko continued, “I thought my parents would talk my way out of it, but they made me fight.”

  “Did you win?” I asked.

  She laughed. “I was soundly thrashed. I think I still have a scar on my ribs.” She touched a spot on her side, looking far too wistful for someone describing an injury from a near-death experience.

  A flurry of sharp whispers preceded Auma and Kiva stepping into the corridor. Though I couldn’t make out a word they said, it was clear from Auma’s mollifying gestures that she was trying to get Kiva to listen, and Kiva wouldn’t even stop walking.

  “The least your friend can do is hear my sister out.” Elko’s voice had settled into an uncharacteristic graveness. “Auma had her reasons.”

  I sighed. “And Kiva has hers.”

  She snorted, her lips curling wryly. “Is that not how it always goes?” She shook her head. “It is too easy to forget how to talk to one another.”

  “You’re assuming she ever knew how,” I muttered as Kiva broke away from Auma, leaving the princess behind. I set my talcé glass on the table, but it was as if Kiva could feel my intentions. She met my gaze from the far end of the table and shook her head. She didn’t want to talk.

  Spotting her, Aroch leapt down and scurried over to her.

  All our lives, Kiva had put duty before all else. She’d spent years pursuing her mother’s respect, honing herself into the weapon Captain Mirkova wanted—a shrewd, loyal, honorable weapon. Now she’d finally found something else she loved as much as being a guard, only to discover she’d been lied to.

  It made my heart hurt.

  Elko leaned forward, voice low. “Talking to people seems to be something you are good at. You seem to actually be friends with the murderous prince.”

  “Son of a murderer prince,” I corrected, then winced. I didn’t actually know if that was true. All I knew was that Ericen hadn’t been involved with Ronoch or the demise of Jindae or the Ambriels.

  Elko waved a hand, dismissing the distinction. “And what do you plan to do when you face the Illucian queen on a battlefield? Talk her into forgetting that your crows tore her family apart? Forgive her and convince h
er to be friends?”

  “No.” My hand closed around my glass. I could never forgive her. Not after what she’d done. “I intend to make her pay.”

  “How?” Elko pressed, leaning closer.

  “What do you mean?”

  “She killed my parents. My brothers. My friends. She burned my kingdom down and stole children from the ashes, turning them against their families, their nation. And still she strangles what little life remains. The effects of her actions will be felt for generations.” A dark fire glinted in the princess’s eyes. “She deserves to suffer as we have suffered. She deserves to die. Slowly.”

  That quiet, burning heat in my veins stirred in response to Elko’s words. It riled and rose, and I closed my eyes against the memories of blood and fire that came with it, letting the familiar pain wash over me.

  You want revenge, Ericen had said. You have every bit the potential to become a monster as I do.

  A chill prickled at the back of my neck. Was that the Sella side of me that wanted that? Estrel had said I wasn’t one of them, but that thought did little to comfort me. If my thirst for blood and revenge didn’t come from my Sella side, then that only meant it was me.

  I heard Elko lean back in her chair and opened my eyes to find her downing her wine. She slammed the empty cup on the table. “If I get the chance, I will extract every drop of blood owed from her body before I kill her. She will regret ever stepping foot in Jindae.”

  Those words were a promise, and I believed them.

  So much death. So much destruction.

  And only more to come.

  * * *

  After dinner, I left Res asleep beside Caylus as he stroked the crow’s head and followed the winding stone path down to the cells, a slice of chocolate cake in hand. My conversations with Elko and Auma turned over in my head as I spiraled back through memories in Illucia. Memories of Ericen fighting Razel in my place, of him letting me fill a box with pastries to the brim, of him standing in the stables, his forehead pressed against the night-black face of his stallion, Callo.

  Whatever everyone else believed, Ericen was not my enemy. I was sure of it.

  And now, surrounded by my allies in celebration, I’d felt like something was missing. Someone. I wanted Ericen on my side, by my side, in moments like these and through whatever we faced next.

  I’d just reached the plateau below and started for the cells when a searing orange light washed over the courtyard. Someone screamed, and I whirled, dropping the plate as my hand went for my belt knife.

  Atop the highest plateau beside the main complex, fire cut across the grass, eating its way through plants and wood and stone alike with an unnatural ferocity.

  I felt Res come alive in a panic. Fear thundered through our bond as he sought me.

  Armor up! I screamed down the cord even as I sprinted back up the stairs. Monks swarmed alongside me as council members and dinner guests rushed past us away from the fire.

  The flames licked along the outermost building, the stone crumbling like paper into ash. It was the same as the fire that’d burned Cardail, the same that’d torn through Aris on Ronoch.

  The dining corridor was in chaos. Whoever had started the fire hadn’t come alone. Elkona and Samra dueled someone, Auma engaged with another alongside Kiva. Estrel and Res fought beside each other, his metal wings flashing like knives as they cut and slammed into bodies. Two monks rushed the king and queen inside.

  I recognized these people. They had kingfisher tattoos on their arms.

  These were Malkin’s mercenaries.

  Rain, Res. We needed those fires out.

  Res dove forward, slamming his head into a mercenary and knocking him hard into a pillar at his back. His head came away bloody as he crumpled to the ground. The crow was beside me the next moment as clouds swallowed the starlight.

  Rain fell in a downpour over the flames, hissing as it struck. Then something flashed at the corner of my eye. The scream had no sooner formed in my throat than it died as the arrow plunked harmlessly off Res’s armored body. The archer who’d fired it gaped at the uninjured crow. Then I was beside her, drawing a line up the side of her arm with my knife. She dropped the bow with a yell, stumbling back—and straight into Elko’s incoming attack.

  The archer dropped, and for an instant, I stared at the blood blooming at her side where Elko’s moonblade had slashed deep, at the yawning emptiness in her green eyes. Then someone jostled me from behind. I lurched forward, seizing the bow from the ground and a handful of arrows, and came up beside Elko.

  “Have you seen Caylus?” I asked.

  She deflected a knife strike. Then a metal wing curled around us, blocking a sword a second before Res slammed the mercenary back.

  “Toward the fire!” Elko yelled. Then she was at Auma’s side.

  Res and I pushed toward the edge of the corridor where the flames had been reduced to wisps. A man stumbled back, clutching his jaw. Behind him, Caylus spun, driving his elbow into a second attacker’s sternum.

  Then something snapped through the air. It struck Caylus in the back, sending him to his knees with a cry. A line of red traced down his exposed skin.

  Malkin stepped forward. I nearly stumbled as I stopped running. He couldn’t be alive—I’d seen the ocean take him.

  The copper-haired crime lord grinned down at Caylus with all the menace of a rabid wolf. He raised his whip.

  In a breath, the scene played out before me: the opening between Caylus and one of the men as I nocked my arrow; the choice between putting an arrow in Malkin’s leg or in his chest; the reminder that my mercy was what had brought Malkin here. What had caused this battle to begin with.

  I would not make that mistake again.

  I loosed. The arrow slammed into Malkin’s chest. He dropped to the ground, his men turning too late to help him. Caylus drove his fist into one’s nose, breaking it. Then two monks were there, detaining them, and the last of the fire flickered and died.

  Caylus stood panting like a wild animal, his hands closed tight into fists. Res rushed to him, cooing as his armor faded back to feathers and he nudged Caylus with his beak. I slid past them to Malkin, who clutched at the arrow in his chest, blood flecking his lips as he coughed for air he couldn’t get.

  Even dying, he grinned at me. Blood coated his teeth. “Razel didn’t—” He coughed again. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “That’s what she doesn’t understand,” I told him. “I’ll do anything to protect the people I care about.”

  He laughed, a wet, wheezing sound. “And you almost succeeded.”

  The words came out with a final breath, and Malkin fell still.

  Almost? I looked to Caylus, but his jade-like eyes were only for Malkin. I spun, taking in Res, then Estrel, Samra, Kiva, Auma, even Elko, who’d cornered the last of the mercenaries. All here, all okay.

  My eyes went toward the prison cells down below. “No.”

  I bolted across the courtyard and down the stairs. The monks outside the building had gone to help in the fight, but two had remained behind inside. They lifted weapons as I bounded inside.

  “Open the prince’s cell!” I ordered.

  They didn’t hesitate. One slammed a key into the lock, wrenching the door open. My bow dropped to the ground with a clatter.

  The cell was empty. A smoking hole gaped in the back wall. Malkin’s attack had been a distraction.

  Ericen was gone.

  * * *

  Pandemonium flooded the grounds. Small groups of soldiers traversed every path, and monks slipped by in the shadows, searching every inch of the hill. They poured down into the city, lights filling the night sky like fireflies as they knocked on every door.

  I left it all behind. Singed grass crunched underfoot as I curved around the edge of the outer building with Res at my side, the note I’d found
in Ericen’s cell clutched in my hand. Its words replayed in my mind.

  Thia dear,

  I have a theory. Do you want to know what it is?

  I think you care about my son.

  I’ve witnessed what you’re willing to do for the ones you care for. Follow the instructions contained in this letter. Do it now. If you don’t, Ericen will die at sunrise.

  I told you caring is a weakness.

  Queen Razel

  Armed with my black gold bow and arrows, Res and I made for the back of the palace compound. We slowed before a small, ornately gilded shrine, its walls painted a muted spring green. It rested in the center of a ring of stones that each weighed more than me and cast long shadows across the blackened garden surrounding them.

  Razel had said this would be here.

  Carved into the building’s dark wood door was a symbol I recognized from Saints and Sellas: two straight, ridged horns, like notched spears, connected by a curve.

  An aizel’s horns.

  “Sellador,” I breathed. The lost Sella kingdom’s name felt like magic on my tongue.

  I brushed my fingers over the carving. The world lurched. The shadowy greens and blues of the moonlit night flared into bright tones of emerald and sapphire beneath a noonday sun. Voices echoed, sharp and heated and familiar.

  I turned, my head spinning, and the world teetered and blurred. Res was gone. In his place stood Estrel and my mother, so much younger than I remembered. They passed without seeing me, stopping before the shrine. The edges of their Corvé tattoos gleamed against their brown skin in the bright sunlight.

  They were arguing about something, though their voices sounded like someone talking underwater. The vision shuddered as my mother’s fingers brushed the Sella symbol on the wood. Her fingers curled into a fist.

  In a burst of light, the vision came apart at the seams. I stumbled, and Res let out a low cry as he appeared at my side, holding me steady. Air rushed into my lungs as I breathed quick and deep, trying to clear the last of the receding fuzziness from my head.

 

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