Raven Song: Shifters Bewitched #4

by Tasha Black

  His entire body was covered in tiny, diamond-shaped blisters from the iron, but he had chosen to use the last of his strength to save Hobbes.

  I fell to my knees beside him, tears blurring my vision.

  “Anya?” he murmured.

  “Thank you for saving my boy,” I told him. “But now who will save you?”

  “You will,” he told me with a weak smile.

  “How?” I asked. I would do anything to save him, I knew that now. All that had been said about the king beyond the veil’s cruelty was false. He was kind and good. I was proud to be one of his subjects.

  “Love me,” he whispered with a wicked half smile.

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “Tell me you love me,” he clarified.

  “I love you,” I told him plainly.

  His smile was as sunny as a child’s.

  “Put your hands on my chest and tell me again,” he instructed.

  I knelt by his side again and placed my hands on his chest. It felt almost like when I spoke to the tree earlier. Instinct took over, and I reached out to him with my mind.

  I love you. Please don’t leave me.

  I could feel his heart throbbing beneath my hands. I pictured his skin knitting together again, healing so that the painful blistering wounds were closed, and he was whole again.

  I let go of my doubt, and my magic filled him, flowing back to me tinted with his pain.

  I pushed on and on, until the magic coming back to me was clear and sweet as spring water.

  “Anya,” he murmured.

  I opened my eyes to find him gazing at me, enraptured.

  His eyes were the palest blue, and the circles under them were gone. His hair was lustrous, his skin luminous once more.

  “That’s enough,” he said. “I’m still weak, but that will fade in time.”

  “I can keep going,” I offered.

  “You’ve never done this before,” he said. “And although you’re a natural, I won’t push you too far.”

  Too far? I thought I had limitless magic, without a price…

  But he was trying to stand, so I stopped worrying about magic to focus on the more practical matter of getting the king to his feet without wounding his pride.

  “Go look for evidence of the blade,” he said.

  “I don’t want to leave you,” I told him.

  “I’m going to take my time,” he said, waving me away.

  I bit my lip, but did as he said. And I didn’t miss his cocky grin when he saw me scurry off.

  The hurrying was only to get me back to him - not because I was eager to be obedient. But I didn’t begrudge him the pleasure he took. He had saved Hobbes instead of using his magic to heal himself. I would always be grateful for that selfless act.

  The area around the trees seemed basically untouched except for the signs of our skirmish. There was no sign that the Order had unearthed anything here, or even tried to.

  I placed my hands on the wisteria vines and spoke to them, then stepped back and watched, awed, as they untwined themselves gracefully from the great tree.

  But when I stepped forward and investigated, I knew at once that the blade was not hidden here. There wasn’t the faintest trace of its magic buzzing.

  I lifted my hands and murmured my thanks, and the vines twirled back into place.

  “The blade isn’t here,” I told the king sadly as I approached.

  “Now that they have my magic at their disposal, I suppose they would have found it if it were here,” he said thoughtfully. “But this is good news overall.”

  “How is this good news?” I asked.

  “It means they don’t know where it is either.”

  21

  Anya

  Though the king seemed to be healing nicely, he didn’t suggest transforming to ride the ravens home.

  Between his injury and what had happened to Hobbes, I was secretly relieved. His power was unsteady. What if he made us small, and then wasn’t able to restore us?

  We made our way back to the castle slowly and carefully, the birds circling overhead.

  I knew the wards would be up by the time we arrived. But I had to believe that we could make it through them.

  After all, the king was right, we weren’t human.

  Every time I thought I had my head around the fae thing, it hit me hard all over again.

  I had talked to a tree today - not to convince it to shed a leaf, as if I were in Plants class or something. I had spoken to a tree, and it had lifted itself out of the ground and gone to war in response.

  You had to drop the Raven King’s name to make that happen, I reminded myself.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” the king said lightly.

  His pale eyes twinkled, and I noticed with relief that the trek through the woods didn’t seem to be tiring him. He actually looked healthier than before, as if the time spent among his denizens had strengthened him.

  “I was just thinking about the tree,” I told him.

  “Magnificent being,” he said in a satisfied way. “It was good to see that skeleton and his beast flee like the cowards they are.”

  I nodded.

  “It suits you,” the king said after a moment. “Your confidence is attractive, a rún.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked. This was the second time he had used the phrase.

  “An endearment,” he said, shrugging.

  Oh.

  “Will your friends have more ideas about finding the blade?” he asked, before I could form a follow-up question.

  “My friends always have ideas,” I said with a smile. “That’s their whole deal.”

  “You are close with these mortals,” the king observed.

  “They’re my family,” I told him simply.

  “It is the same with soldiers at war,” he said, nodding. “The brotherhood forged by shared blood trials is more meaningful than the water of the womb.”

  “Blood is thicker than water,” I murmured.

  “The mortals know this phrase?” he asked, looking surprised.

  “It is used differently here,” I told him. “It means that the blood ties of a biological family are more important than those of friendship or romantic love.”

  “I do not think that is true,” the king said simply.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I replied honestly. “But those women are my life, and they won’t stop coming up with ideas until we figure this out.”

  “Then you are fortunate, indeed,” the king said.

  But his eyes were sad.

  I puzzled over it as we walked through the last of the trees and the late afternoon light filtered through to greet us.

  The labyrinth was the only thing that lay between us and the courtyard and castle beyond. It was already in shadow, its hedges like a sleeping animal.

  But the moment we stepped out of the woods, the labyrinth began to shiver and shift.

  “Should we hike around?” I asked the king.

  “You should be able to go right through it,” he told me with a lazy smile.

  “We have to get back as quickly as we can,” I said.

  “The labyrinth is the fastest way,” he told me.

  I looked out over the shuffling, roiling hedges.

  “If you know how,” he added. “And I’m going to teach you.”

  I was surprised to find that in spite of every reason we had to hurry, I really did want to know how to conquer the labyrinth.

  We stepped forward and the hedges suddenly stilled.

  “Go on,” he said.

  I entered the first opening and was immediately faced with a choice.

  “Okay, we’re at an intersection,” the king said, "Which way are your instincts telling you to go?”

  “Well, it seems like it makes sense to go right,” I said, looking at the labyrinth in relation to the school.

  “Then go left,” he said.

  Was that supposed to be an insult? He gazed at me, those pale eyes unblinking.r />
  I turned left and the hedges opened for me, allowing me to go deeper than I expected.

  “Again,” he said, pointing at the choice ahead of us.

  “Same as before?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “But now that I know to go the opposite way that instinct tells me, won’t it work the other way?” I asked.

  “What in the world do you mean?”

  “I mean, now that I know to think about which way feels right and choose the other direction, now that other direction feels right,” I told him.

  “You’re overthinking it,” he said.

  “So which way do I go?” I asked. “The way I thought was right, or the way that I now think is right? I can’t go in the opposite of both!”

  The king threw back his head and laughed.

  “It’s not funny,” I told him. “You’re asking me to go against my instinct, but how many times?”

  “It’s just a hedge, child,” he told me, clearly trying to swallow back his laughter. “Not a chess opponent. Choose a direction and go the other way.”

  I buttoned my lip and chose a direction.

  Then I marched off the opposite way.

  I found myself deeper still. As senseless as the king’s method was, it worked.

  “Are you ready for your next lesson?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Close your eyes,” he told me softly.

  I closed my eyes.

  I could sense him stepping closer to me. A shiver of electricity went down my spine.

  “Picture where you want to be,” he whispered in my ear.

  I pictured the school. I wanted to be at school.

  “Try again,” he said. “Really see it, see every detail.”

  I pictured the building, the great hall, my room…

  “What are you picturing?” he asked, his breath tickling the nape of my neck.

  “The school,” I told him.

  “Be specific,” he said. “Choose one thing about the school. Something you can picture in great detail. The first thing you think of.”

  The first thing I thought of when I thought of Primrose was the fountain in front of the school. I remembered Headmistress Hart leading me out of the carriage on my first day at the school, past that enormous marble monstrosity.

  I pictured the two angry-looking mermaids that were meant to be lounging, but always looked to me like they were about to crawl out of the fountain. One of them held a rusty trident, and mildewy stains like tears ran down their marble faces.

  I could see the stallion at the center of the fountain, rearing up as if it were about to explode out. Its hooves were worn down from years of fountain water, but its nostrils were still visible in perfect detail - wide and furious.

  And at the base of the fountain was the hastily painted graffiti of a black raven with the words HE IS COMING.

  Whoever had spray painted the words had been right. Against all odds, the Raven King was here.

  In my mind, I traced a finger along the cool, wet marble of the fountain’s edge. I could feel the slimy texture of the surface and the sheer weight of the structure pushing back against my hand.

  There was a rumbling all around me.

  “Look,” the king breathed.

  I opened my eyes to find the whole labyrinth opening itself, unfurling like a flower, forming into a path that led straight to the fountain.

  “But… the fountain is on the other side of the castle,” I murmured.

  “Then your powers are strong indeed,” the king told me.

  Another shiver went down my spine. For once, not because of his deep, beautiful voice, but in awe of my own magic.

  22

  Anya

  For one glorious instant I celebrated what I had done. I turned to the king, radiant with happiness.

  And then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

  It shouldn’t have been possible, but the mermaid lounging on the left side of the fountain was moving like something out of a bad horror movie.

  She cocked her neck to one side and then the other as her mossy stone fingers wrapped around the edge of the fountain and her lifeless eyes settled on me.

  I tried to speak, but no words would come, only a low, desperate moan.

  The mermaid on the right side, with the trident, dragged herself through the water.

  “Anya, don’t you dare cower,” the king’s voice was low and urgent. “This is not for you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I managed to spit.

  “The wards are up,” he said. “I can taste it on the air. All that manufactured witch magic. And this is part of it.”

  “Wards are invisible,” I hissed. “Those are moving stone statues.”

  “They’re not for you,” he repeated. “They’re for mortals.”

  The mermaid with the trident pulled herself out of the water and casually knocked aside a concrete bench that stood between us.

  The bench exploded onto the walkway as if it had been made of plaster, and the mermaid kept coming, her trident making a horrible scraping sound against the flagstones.

  The first mermaid dragged herself out of the fountain and crawled along the walkway to join her sister, leaving a trail of slime behind her as they both approached.

  Something about their unnatural, jerky movements chilled me to the bone, rooting me in place.

  “Keep walking,” the king instructed me.

  “I’m not going any closer,” I told him.

  “You will go closer,” he said sternly. “And you will walk right past them. You are not a mortal.”

  But my eyes were drawn to the stallion. It was enormous, and it seemed to be filled with fury, even in its inanimate state. If it came to life, it might kill me without even meaning to.

  The raven painted on the front of the fountain flapped its two-dimensional wings once and fluttered into the sky, a slender shadow.

  The mermaids were only a few feet away now. I could smell the musty water that ran off them in dark rivulets.

  Their time-smoothed marble faces were even more terrifying up close.

  “Stop,” the king murmured. “Stand your ground. If you believe they won’t hurt you, they will not.”

  If I believed it? I wasn’t the boy from the fairy tale trying to fly. These massive stone beings had weight, one had a nasty-looking weapon.

  But the king’s words had already infiltrated my soul, bolstering my confidence.

  In spite of my feverish thoughts, my body held perfectly still.

  You will not hurt me, I said to the statues without speaking. I am not mortal. I stand at the side of the Raven King, and you shall do us no harm.

  The mermaid with the trident paused, her weapon raised over her head.

  I held my breath.

  Slowly, she lowered her weapon and slid her stone form past me, each scraping movement ending with a thud that shook the ground.

  Her sister dragged herself along behind her.

  I was about to let out my breath, when a splash and a clatter drew my eye back to the fountain.

  Just as I’d feared, the stallion had come to life at last.

  At first, he crashed around in the fountain with violent effort, his timeworn hooves too smooth to find purchase on the slimy marble bottom. But after a moment, he found his footing and exploded out of the water, thundering toward me, hooves clattering on the stones.

  I willed myself not to move a muscle.

  He galloped straight at me, stopping only at the last second.

  As I stared through him, he lifted his stony muzzle as if to sniff at me.

  After a long moment, he turned his head and galloped off in the direction of the woods.

  Suddenly, my legs felt like they were made of cooked noodles, and I stumbled.

  The Raven King caught me under my arms just as a loud whoop came from the direction of the castle.

  I let myself rest against the king’s broad chest as he carried me toward
home.

  “Incredible,” he murmured into my hair. “Rest, my warrior queen. When you wake you shall have anything your heart desires.”

  He couldn’t have known that I was awake, or he would never have said those words.

  And I wished I wasn’t awake. Because in this moment of wild relief, with my body weak and my heart pounding so hard I couldn’t stand, I only wanted one thing.

  I wanted the Raven King.

  I wanted him so badly I thought I might die.

  23

  Anya

  “What in God’s name were you thinking?” a familiar voice boomed across the castle lawn.

  “She’s fine, Madam,” the king said in a tired way.

  “Don’t you Madam me,” Headmistress Hart retorted. “Anya, are you all right?”

  I opened my eyes to see the headmistress’s familiar brown face, her beautiful eyes filled with worry.

  Tears sprang to my own eyes at the sight. Headmistress Hart was stern and businesslike - to run Primrose Academy she had to be. But I loved her like a mother for finding me and bringing me here - for looking out for me ever since I had arrived.

  Knowing she cared about me enough to be scared and furious on my behalf was almost too much for me to bear.

  “I’m f-fine,” I managed, but a tear escaped and slid down my cheek.

  She turned her gaze to the king’s eyes and her expression went cold and steely.

  “You seem to think you have some claim to this child,” she said after a moment. “But she is my student, and my responsibility. You may be the king beyond the veil, but at Primrose Academy, you are my guest. And you will not endanger my ward again, at the risk of breaking the laws of hospitality. Do I make myself understood?”

  My ward.

  I struggled to hide my smile as the king swallowed audibly.

  “Understood,” he murmured. “And please know that I would never endanger her—”

  “Yes, yes, she is under your royal protection,” Headmistress Hart said dismissively. “But what good is your protection, when it brings her home limp in your arms?”

  No one had a good answer to that question.

  Instead, the Raven King followed her, meek as a kitten, through the massive front doors of the castle and into the grand foyer.