The Raven Heir

by Stephanie Burgis

  ‘I can’t hear anyone.’ Rosalind had found herself a new and thicker stick while Cordelia was sleeping. She held it like a club as she drew closer to the other two, standing between them and the nearest trees.

  ‘The animals can. They’re hiding.’ The world had rebalanced itself around Cordelia while she’d slept; the ground stayed perfectly steady beneath her feet this time as she stood, without any need for a stick’s support. She rubbed hard with one foot at the bent grass where she’d lain, trying to hide the evidence from their hunters.

  Then her eyes narrowed.

  There hadn’t been any flowers growing there before. Now a curving arc of small white starflowers blossomed like a map, outlining exactly where her body had curled.

  Goosebumps prickled across her skin as her left hand rose instinctively to touch her waist. Her injury wasn’t burning any more. In fact, she could have sworn that it had actually healed.

  What sort of dream had she just had?

  Giles was jittering nervously in place, a distraction in the corner of her vision. ‘If those knights are back and heading our way—’

  ‘Can you tell how many of them are coming after us this time?’ Rosalind asked Cordelia.

  There was something tingling at the edge of her hearing, almost like a whisper – more than one? – trying to reach her from far away, but—

  ‘No.’ She tore her eyes away from the white flowers and let out her held breath in frustration. ‘I just know they’ll be here any moment.’

  ‘Then we need to go. Now.’ Rosalind thrust out her old sword-stick. ‘Here. Use this again—’

  ‘No. I don’t need it any more.’ It felt like a wrench to turn her back on those starflowers. They meant something; she was sure of it. But there was no time to explore that mystery now. Cordelia waved off her sister’s offer and pointed. ‘The forest ends that way. It’s our closest path out.’

  ‘Connall really let you explore all the way to the edge of the forest?’ Giles frowned.

  ‘Of course he didn’t! I just …’ I just know it was the honest answer, but none of them had ever seen a map of the forest. She couldn’t know.

  And yet …

  ‘Well, it has to end eventually, no matter which way we go,’ said Rosalind, ‘and that direction leads away from home, so it should take us away from the knights too. Let’s do it.’

  Squaring her shoulders, she lowered her head like an angry goat and waved her stick-club threateningly at her siblings. ‘Go!’

  They went. Cordelia’s side didn’t even twinge as she launched herself forward. The ripped sides of her gown flew out around her as she ran. Giles’s legs were the longest by far and the fastest too, but he slowed more and more after the first minute, staring at her instead of at the trees and brambles that blocked their way.

  ‘Why aren’t you bleeding through your bandage?’ he demanded. ‘How are you even—?’

  ‘Run!’ Rosalind snarled at both of them.

  The whole forest was urging them on now. Cordelia could feel the air thickening behind her, trying to press her further from the danger. A sudden cacophony of angry birdcalls sounded behind them.

  ‘They’ve reached the stream,’ Cordelia panted to her triplets.

  ‘How do you know?’ Giles’s whisper sounded like a shriek as he leaped over a fallen tree trunk, gangly legs flashing in mid-air.

  ‘Faster!’ gritted Rosalind.

  Up ahead, bright golden light lanced through the canopy of leaves, painting long, vivid stripes along the ivy-covered tree trunks. There was more space between those trees ahead; more room for light to fall. The air tasted different too: like distant smoke and strange, enticing new scents.

  They were nearing the end of the forest. They had to be.

  Not far behind them, something crashed.

  ‘You two, keep going.’ Rosalind skidded to a halt and swerved around, brandishing her stick-club. ‘I’ll slow them down.’

  ‘No!’ Giles staggered, eyes wild and long legs tangling as he spun around mid-leap. ‘Mother said to stay together, remember? We’re family!’

  ‘I’m defending the family,’ Rosalind growled, ‘and this time, no one is stopping me. Go!’

  There was no use talking to Rosalind when she was in a battering-ram mood. Cordelia didn’t even try. She just lunged forward and grabbed, ready to change shape in an instant if she needed to force her stubborn sister forward.

  Before her hand could land on Rosalind’s arm, though, a sudden trill of music lanced through her.

  It wasn’t coming from the air. It was a flute piping directly through her veins – high, eerie, and hauntingly familiar. As if—

  ‘Mother!’ Cordelia grabbed both of her triplets at once. ‘She’s here. Run!’ She swerved to the left, tugging them with her. For once, they didn’t even try to resist.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Giles panted.

  ‘She’s here?’ Rosalind’s head swivelled as she ran. ‘Where—?’

  ‘It’s her song!’ That was how Cordelia had recognised the melody. How many times had it rocked them to sleep when they were little? It was the same song Alys had hummed in the garden only yesterday – but Alys couldn’t send songs by magic. Only Mother could.

  ‘I don’t hear anything,’ Rosalind said.

  ‘Just trust me!’ Those other messages had streamed through the trees and the earth, as if the forest itself were whispering through her skin, but this song was different. It came through her bones with a magic that felt inescapably familiar. She knew it every bit as firmly as she knew that their hunters were nearly upon them now.

  ‘Wait.’ Giles was panting for breath. ‘I can hear it now too. Cordy’s right. It’s—’

  ‘Our lullaby!’ Rosalind finished on a sudden gasp – and sped up to run by Cordelia’s side, no longer waiting for directions.

  Another five feet, over the brink of a large, grassy clearing, and—

  Snap! The air closed behind them.

  Rosalind whirled around, raising her stick-club. ‘What was that?’

  ‘We’re safe.’ Cordelia slumped to a halt, breathing hard. ‘Can’t you feel it?’ A blurry, translucent wall of air had formed at the edge of the large clearing, closing them in. ‘We’re shut off from all the rest of the forest now.’

  Giles poked one finger at the shimmering air, eyes wide. ‘I can’t break through this.’

  ‘Neither can they.’ She hoped not, anyway.

  Six bear-knights hurtled into the trees they’d just run through, followed by a thin, panting man in a strange crimson robe. Cordelia braced to find out if she’d been right.

  Their blurred heads turned, visibly searching. Their voices were muffled by the wall of air. The man in the crimson robe shook his head, his gaze skating past the triplets without a single pause. One of the knights scowled and slashed an arm furiously through the air.

  All six knights and their companion turned in unison … and ran in the opposite direction.

  ‘You see?’ A warm, confident voice spoke just behind the three children. ‘You’re perfectly safe now, my dears.’

  That wasn’t Mother’s voice.

  Every sense prickled with warning as Cordelia turned.

  In the centre of the clearing, where she’d seen nothing but green grass before, a small white cottage rose up before them. Ivy climbed up its plastered sides; wide, dark timbers framed the open door.

  Standing in that doorway, a tall dark-haired woman smiled out at them.

  She had Mother’s eyes and her hawk-like nose. But silver threaded through her hair, which was perfectly smooth and sleek, not wild and curling like Mother’s. It wasn’t even trying to burst free from the beaded net that held it back.

  Giles gulped audibly. ‘You – what—?’

  ‘Oh, really.’ Tsking disapprovingly, she took a gliding step forward, like a swan crossing water. ‘You poor children. Hasn’t your mother told you anything about me?’

  ‘We thought you were Mother,’ Cordelia
said hoarsely. ‘That song – the one you sent us—’

  ‘That was always her favourite lullaby, wasn’t it?’ The woman’s full lips curved wider. ‘She sang it to Connall so often, I knew you’d recognise it too.’

  ‘But … how?’ Rosalind’s stick-club sagged along with her shoulders, her whisper a bare thread of sound.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been waiting for years.’ Her voice was rich with satisfaction as she looked from one to the other in turn. ‘Finally – finally! – I’ve been allowed to meet my youngest grandchildren.’

  Giles led the way to the cottage while a stunned-looking Rosalind took rearguard. She left her stick-club abandoned on the ground, but she shook her head again and again in tight wordless jerks, her harsh breaths snorting against Cordelia’s unbound hair.

  Cordelia could hear chickens clucking somewhere nearby, but she couldn’t see any of them. All that she could see past their grandmother’s commanding figure was those bright white cottage walls latticed by nearly black beams in a pattern that looked horribly like bars on a grate … A grate that was about to close all three of them inside.

  She couldn’t have spoken even if she’d wanted to.

  As always, Giles more than made up for his sisters’ silence. ‘Are you really our grandmother? Well, of course you must be. Look at you!’ Half laughing, he ran one hand through his thick red hair until it stood up like the feathers of a startled chick. ‘But why didn’t Mother ever tell us about you? And why didn’t you come with her and Alys and Connall into the forest in the first place? If—’

  ‘Shh.’ She shook her head, an indulgent look in her dark eyes. ‘You’ll have answers to all your questions soon enough. But you children have been lost and alone and afraid, haven’t you? You’ll want food and drink before anything else.’

  ‘Cordelia’s been hurt.’ Rosalind spoke abruptly, coming out of her daze. ‘She has a wound that needs treating.’

  Cordelia shook her head sharply – it didn’t need treating, not any more, and she didn’t want to talk about that at all – but it was too late. Their grandmother’s head tilted, eyes sharpening. ‘Are you hurt, my dear? I thought that stain on your gown looked like blood. Shall I look at it now? Or would you prefer a bite of breakfast first?’

  Cordelia had to force her lips to relax enough to speak. ‘Breakfast,’ she said tightly. ‘Nothing else.’

  Giles’s eyebrows soared at her tone; she ignored him.

  Alys had taught them all better manners than that. But Cordelia’s muscles were braced to run, and she couldn’t loosen them no matter how she tried. Of course they were safe here. Anyone who looked twice at their grandmother would know she must be family. Yet it took all Cordelia’s strength to keep herself standing at the edge of the waiting cottage instead of fleeing outright for the freedom of the forest.

  She felt as wild and irrational as the feral beast her triplets sometimes called her. But no matter how senseless it seemed even to her, she wasn’t letting anyone look at her definitely healed wound … especially not their newly discovered grandmother.

  ‘Breakfast would be wonderful,’ said Giles loudly. ‘We’re all hungry, aren’t we, Ros?’

  ‘Starving,’ Rosalind agreed. Her shoulders relaxed, and she stepped to Cordelia’s side, smiling at last. ‘Thank you, Gra—I mean—’

  ‘Oh, it’s perfectly all right to call me Grandmother for now.’ Their grandmother nodded graciously and turned to lead the way into the house. Her voice floated back to them over the shoulder of her faded green gown, which showed the signs of multiple mendings. ‘Of course, if we were at court in front of onlookers, you’d have to address me as “Your Ladyship” or “Lady Elianora”, but—’

  ‘At court!’ Giles pulled away from his sisters to hurry after her. ‘Do you usually live at the royal court?’

  ‘Not … for some time. But here – see for yourself.’ She stepped aside, gesturing at the single open room that filled the cottage. ‘My humble abode.’

  It might have been small, but it didn’t look humble to Cordelia’s eyes, not compared to the plain stone rooms of their own home. This one glittered, from the sparkling embroidered tapestries that covered the plastered walls and hung from the wooden rafters above their heads, to the heavy-looking golden goblet that sat on the table in the centre of the room. A polished cedar chest hulked in the far corner, so big that Cordelia could have curled up inside it with plenty of room to spare. Several glinting silver bracelets lay arranged in a wide arc across its lid.

  ‘Is that real gold?’ Wide-eyed, Giles pointed at the goblet.

  ‘Oh, you poor child. You’ve never even seen real gold before?’ Grandmother tskd again. ‘Your mother! Well, we’ve had our disagreements, of course, but those are long in the past. This is a moment for celebration. Come, sit.’ She waved them to the small, oddly shaped table. ‘Tell me all about yourselves! This is my first chance to know my own grandchildren. I can already tell that you’ll be full of surprises.’

  Every animal sense in Cordelia’s body screamed for her to back away. But Giles was already loping across the rush-covered floor, and Rosalind took her own place at the table half a minute later, rubbing her hands and looking eagerly towards the big black pot that simmered on the fireplace, sending sweet tendrils of scent throughout the room.

  ‘Come on, Cordy!’ she said. ‘What are you waiting for?’

  Cordelia had no reasonable human answer … and she wasn’t a mindless animal, no matter what anyone else said. So she lifted one foot and then the other, gritting her teeth with effort, until she stood in their grandmother’s cottage and the door fell closed behind her, shutting out the green forest and the world beyond.

  Her vision blurred with panic. Her breath shortened.

  ‘There, now. We can make ourselves comfortable.’ Their grandmother’s voice curled around her, tugging her gently across the room. Cordelia barely even felt her legs move. Her vision only began to clear again as she sat down at the table. It must have been the base of an enormous oak tree, once. It had been polished to an astonishing sheen, just like the golden goblet at its centre.

  ‘You must be thirsty.’ Grandmother was suddenly just behind her; the wide, draping silk sleeve of her gown brushed against Cordelia’s shoulder as she poured a sweet-smelling liquid into the big goblet. Steam rose from its golden lips. ‘Why don’t the three of you share this while I prepare your porridge?’

  The drink that she’d poured smelt like summer sunshine in a goblet. It smelt like comfort, drawing all of them close together. In fact …

  Tears burned at the back of Cordelia’s eyes at the scent-memory. It smelt just like the herbs that Mother gathered to increase her own protective magic back at home. And Grandmother had been right – Cordelia was thirsty, desperately so, although she hadn’t noticed it before. She’d been too busy running through the forest, following the call of family.

  Family!

  ‘Mother needs your help.’ Her voice was hoarse; she had to yank herself away from that enticing smell as Giles and Rosalind tussled over who would take the first sip from the big, heavy goblet. ‘Those knights who were chasing us – they’re with the Dukes of Lune and Arden. They’re all keeping her prisoner, and they’ve got Connall and Alys too. They were trying to catch us, but—’

  ‘You needn’t worry about them.’ Grandmother’s long, slender fingers brushed gently against her shoulder. ‘No one outside can even see this cottage. Remember? I’ve been preparing for this moment for twelve long years. I haven’t left any room for accidents.’

  Cordelia blinked, trying to focus through the distractions beside her. Rosalind had won the battle with Giles and was gulping down liquid from the goblet in long, luxuriant swigs that sent waves of delicious scent washing through the air. Cordelia swallowed over her parched throat and forced herself to keep her eyes on their grandmother. ‘So you knew—’

  ‘That they’d eventually break through all Kathryn’s spells? Of course. I devoted years of my
life to your mother’s training. I know her magical limits as well as I know my own.’ With an indulgent smile, Grandmother put one hand out to stop Rosalind from taking another sip. ‘Do leave enough for the others, dear.’

  ‘Sorry, Grandmother. It just tastes so good!’ Rosalind gave her a happy smile, looking as sublimely relaxed as if they were home already, with everything sorted and back to normal. Her voice slurred into a yawn as she finished, ‘It’s so good to be with family again and finally know the right thing—ohh!’ Her strong fingers slipped on the goblet’s stem. She blinked in surprise at her own misbehaving hand, and Giles grabbed the drink just in time.

  ‘You need more sleep, ninny.’ Tipping his head back, he took a long sip and closed his eyes in appreciation. ‘Mmmm!’

  A low whimper of envy escaped Cordelia’s throat; she cringed at the sound, but Grandmother chuckled.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘He’ll leave enough for you. Won’t you, dear?’

  Giles didn’t answer. He was too busy gulping down even more, his face slack with bliss. Next to Cordelia, Rosalind had slumped in her seat, abandoning her usual stiff-backed knightly posture to rest her chin on her fist and let her eyes fall closed; she looked as if she could happily forget everything else and snore all day now that the three of them were finally safe again.

  But safety had never been enough for Cordelia. She needed freedom, and for that, she needed answers.

  ‘Why didn’t you move into the forest with Mother and the others?’ she asked their grandmother. ‘And why is it so dangerous for anyone to sit on the Raven Throne? And—’

  ‘My goodness!’ Grandmother shook her head ruefully, rattling the black beads in her hairnet. ‘You’re as full of awkward questions as your mother, aren’t you?’

  ‘Mother?’ Cordelia’s brows shot upward in disbelief. ‘She won’t even listen to any questions!’

  ‘Well, I shall,’ said Grandmother, ‘but first –’ she slid the goblet out of Giles’s fingers and, reluctantly, he let it go – ‘have a drink, dear girl, before you do any more talking. Your throat is terribly dry, isn’t it? This will make everything so much easier, I promise.’