Flight of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  He yanked his hand back and opened his eyes. He glanced to his right and found Selene staring at him, her hand stretched out, her fingers mere inches from where his had been.

  “Selene?” he whispered, frowning. Had it been her fingers that touched his hand?

  She quickly drew her hand back to her chest.

  “Are you all right? Do you need something?” he whispered.

  “No.” The word came out strangled.

  “Did you touch me?”

  There was a pause. “Yes.”

  “Were you trying to wake me up?”

  There was another pause. “No.”

  His frown deepened. Then why had she touched him?

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” She began to shift around.

  “Selene. Stop.”

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  Damien spotted Taegis on the other side of the camp. Either he could not hear them, or he was ignoring them. The other men slept on. Damien looked back at Selene. “Is something wrong?”

  She lay down on her back, her face toward the sky, her fingers curled around the edge of her blanket. He could barely see the contours of her face in the dying firelight.

  Just when he thought she wasn’t going to answer, she whispered, “I can’t sleep.”

  Damien blinked. That didn’t explain why she had reached over and touched him.

  “The nightmares won’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, they’re there. I’ve barely slept since we left the Hyr River.”

  Damien knit his brows. “What about the inn? You seemed to sleep fine there. Is it the strain of traveling? Or the newness of everything?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She still hadn’t explained why she had reached out to him. Did she find comfort in touch? That was the last thing he would have expected of her. Or had it been an accidental brush of her fingers? “Can I do anything to help you?”

  He heard her quiet intake of breath.

  “Selene?” he whispered.

  She rolled onto her side so she was facing him. “Can I . . . touch your hand?”

  His eyes went wide and every notion of sleep disappeared. Selene wanted to hold hands? His heart started thudding inside his chest and his mouth went dry. Why was he nervous? He’d touched the hand of a woman many times. He’d even held Selene’s hand when they were running toward the river. Was it because they were now married? Because she was his wife and unlike any other woman to him?

  Slowly he pulled his hand out of his oiled cloak and reached forward.

  Selene lifted her hand, then hesitated. “Damien,” she whispered.

  “Yes?” he answered, surprised at her use of his name.

  “You know what I can do.”

  What did she . . . Oh. Her dreamwalking gift. He started to say the word but found no sound came when he moved his mouth. Apparently he was too close to the other men to speak of it. “I know only a little.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot explain it here. But I want to be honest with you. I . . . that is . . .” She sighed. “I’ve held your hand every night since the inn at Rone.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. I should have asked before I did it. But I was desperate. And so tired. You . . . you help me sleep. The nightmares cannot follow me there.”

  “I don’t underst— Wait.” He sat up and stared at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Taegis turn in their direction. He leaned toward Selene until there were only inches between their faces. “You mean when you hold my hand . . .”

  “Yes.” Her eyes turned downward. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

  He didn’t understand what being a dreamer meant or how her gift worked, but however she did it, she just admitted she had been doing it to him. He tried to recall the last few nights. Could he see her inside his mind? Was that how it worked? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember any of his dreams since leaving Rook Castle.

  He ran a hand across his face. He wasn’t sure what to do. She had entered his dreams without his consent. Part of him felt betrayed. How could she use her gift on him? He would never do that to someone else. The very thought made his pulse beat faster. An overwhelming desire to turn around and lie down with his back to her surged inside of him.

  But another part of him felt for her as he gazed at her shadowed face, full of fear and vulnerability. He had seen how exhausted she was. And she’d been honest about what she had been doing the last few nights even though she could have kept it a secret. Was it really that bad that somehow, someway she had found it possible to find rest through him?

  If only he knew more about what she could do . . .

  Selene withdrew her hand. “I understand,” she said quietly. Then she rolled over onto her side, her back to him, and pulled her cloak up around her neck.

  Damien lay back slowly. No, this was not the kind of man he wanted to be. If it helped Selene—if it helped his wife—to hold his hand in order to sleep, then he would do it, even if he didn’t yet understand how or why.

  Damien reached out and ran his fingers over her shoulder. “Selene.”

  She tensed at his touch. A moment later, she twisted her head around. “Yes?”

  “You can hold my hand,” he whispered.

  She froze. He could almost see the battle inside of her, the same one he had experienced moments ago: to turn around or to turn back. Just when he was sure she was going to keep her back to him, she turned to face him instead.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered back.

  “Yes,” he said, drowning out his own concerns and focusing on her needs instead.

  She hesitated again, then pulled out her hand. Their fingers meshed, his warm ones between her cooler ones. He laid their hands on the edge of her blanket, right between them.

  He let out a long breath and relaxed. This felt right. “Good night, Selene.”

  He swore he heard a strangled sob from her. “Thank you,” she said, almost inaudibly.

  Damien rolled onto his back, keeping his hand in hers. Her fingers were so small compared to his, but they fit perfectly in his hand.

  He stared up at the canopy of darkness, then closed his eyes. He had no idea what the future held for them. And he still hardly knew the woman whose fingers were intertwined with his.

  But perhaps reaching out his hand was a first step in getting to know her more.

  7

  Selene slowly woke to a clear sky above and something warm between her fingers. She blinked and looked over to find Damien still asleep, his hand in hers. She listened to his soft breathing while studying every contour of his face. Her throat tightened. She almost didn’t tell him last night. He would never have known she dreamwalked inside his mind to find peace.

  But the longer she was with him, the more the guilt of her deception had grown until she finally spoke last night. If she was going to put the past behind her, including the Ravenwood secrets, then she had to speak up, even if he turned away from her.

  But he didn’t.

  She swallowed as she gazed at him. More than anything she wanted to know this man. Damien was unlike any other lord she had met. And his soul . . .

  Sten sat up and rubbed his eyes. Grey stubble covered his chin, and his hair was even messier than usual.

  Selene yanked her hand away and tucked it inside her cloak, hoping he didn’t see. Her gaze traveled across the rest of the camp. Karl sat on the other side of the camp with a bored expression on his face, his dark hair almost covering one eye. Cohen snored near one of the trees. Taegis sat with his back against a nearby tree trunk, his arms folded and his eyes closed.

  Damien blinked and shifted onto his back. Cohen started moving as well, which meant soon everyone would be awake and it would be time to get on the road again.

  Selene stood. After smoothing out her clothes, she reached for the blanket and headed for the trees to shake out the dirt and leaves. Behind her, she could hear the men speaking in soft tones. When she returned, she found
Damien sitting up and conversing with Taegis, while Sten dug around in their supplies. Karl stared at her from across the camp, his lips tight.

  “Good morning, my lady,” Cohen said as he walked in her direction.

  “Good morning,” she replied as he passed her and headed into the trees.

  At the sound of her voice, Damien turned.

  Her heart leapt into her throat as he gazed at her. Her body alternated between hot and cold, and adrenaline raced across her nerves. Selene swallowed nervously. What was wrong with her?

  Sten broke their connection as he passed out small loaves of brown bread and a waterskin to share. After a quick meal, the horses were loaded and the small party was back on Trader’s Road. The air was muggy from yesterday’s rain, but already a cool wind was blowing the humidity away, leaving a fresh, clean feel to the bare forest. Small insects thrummed beneath fallen leaves, and the occasional squirrel chattered overhead.

  Sten led the way, Cohen beside him. Selene rode alone between the men, the beige mare rocking gently beneath her saddle. She knew where Damien was behind her. It was as though every part of her was attuned to him. She could hear his words as he spoke to Taegis and could almost feel his gaze upon her back every few minutes.

  “We should be to Nor Esen by midday tomorrow,” she overheard Taegis say to Damien.

  Nor Esen. The famed capital city of the Northern Shores.

  After hearing her father describe the coastline and the city built along the cliffs overlooking the sea, Selene had always wanted to visit Nor Esen. And if her time in Damien’s dreams was any indication, the coast was lined with white sand, rocky cliffs, and water as far as the eye could see. A country far different than her own home in the Magyr Mountains.

  But these were not the circumstances by which she had ever thought to visit Nor Esen. She would have come as an envoy of House Ravenwood on some diplomatic mission. She would have enjoyed the luxury of a visiting dignitary. And afterward, she would have returned to Rook Castle.

  Instead, this city would be her home.

  Selene gripped the reins tightly between her fingers as her stomach began to churn. What would the people of the Northern Shores think of their new grand lady? She had a feeling she was not what they were expecting. It was likely thought that House Maris would align with a more agreeable house, like House Luceras, or that Damien would marry someone from a lesser house within their own nation. Not the Lady of Ice of the mountain people. What would she do if they didn’t accept her?

  What I’ve always done, she thought, lifting her head. She would survive by burying her heart.

  “Watch out!”

  Selene barely had time to register the words when an arrow zipped by her head, missing her by inches.

  Her training took over.

  She was already off her horse opposite the side of where the arrow had come from, using her mount as a shield. Shouts went up between Taegis and Sten as the men went into action. More arrows flew through the woods, this time from the front and back of the road, but still on the same side. That meant that the tree line behind her was the safest place at this moment.

  With a sharp twist, Selene turned and dashed for the trees. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cohen doing the same. Seconds later, she crouched behind a thick tree trunk and pressed her body as close as she could. Her heart thrummed inside her ears.

  Selene moved her head to the right and looked out. Taegis and the other guards had their swords out and were surrounding Damien. From the other side of the road, a handful of men dressed in black stepped out of the forest, with dark pieces of fabric tied around their heads that hid all but their eyes. Each one carried a simple sword.

  “What do you want?” Taegis said, his sword in position, as Sten’s eyes swept the tree line and noted Selene’s and Cohen’s positions. Karl stood on the other side of Damien, his sword drawn, facing the bandits on the other side of the road.

  Selene scowled. They were outnumbered, and she didn’t have her swords with her. And could Cohen even fight?

  The tallest highwayman stepped forward. “We want all your valuables,” he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.

  “Is that it?” Taegis said.

  “Yes.”

  “If that is all, then we will accommodate your request.”

  As Taegis took a step back to confer with Damien, the leader spoke up again. “Oh yes, and one more thing.”

  Taegis’s body tightened as he faced the leader again. Selene pressed closer to hear.

  “We also want the woman.”

  For one second, the world stopped as Selene stared at the man in black. A trickle of fear spread across the back of her mind, but it disappeared in a wave of anger. Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands. Did that highwayman think he could take a lady of Ravenwood? Dart’an! She had come too far, given up too much to be taken by some men hiding out in a forest. These bandits would discover she would not go so easily.

  She barely heard Taegis’s answer before the fight started. Her eyes roved across the forest floor as the sound of clanking swords filled the air. She may not have her dual swords, but she still had her skills. All she needed were two medium branches roughly the size and length of her swords. . . .

  There. She picked up one stick from between the fallen leaves, then spotted another half hidden in the dense foliage. As she bent down to retrieve it, Cohen yelled, “Lady Selene, behind you!”

  Selene jumped to her feet, twisting around with her makeshift swords in full swing.

  One of the highwaymen barreled toward her with a rope in hand, but no sword. Good. That meant they wanted her alive.

  Selene smiled. The man had no idea what was coming.

  She positioned her feet, then brought the wooden weapons in front of her. The moment the man stepped within her reach, Selene swung her right arm down across her body, catching the man across the cheek and sending his face flying to the side. Without stopping, she brought her left one over and struck the area below his rib cage.

  The man went down with a groan.

  Selene looked over her shoulder. “Cohen! Tie him up.”

  Cohen sat frozen, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

  “Now!”

  He blinked, then moved.

  Selene wasted no time to see if the monk was following her orders. Taegis and the others were being overrun and needed her help.

  Selene stepped from the tree line, her weapons ready.

  Taegis was engaged with the leader and another bandit across the road. Karl pushed another man down the road with a flurry of hits, his height and youth giving him the advantage.

  Damien was holding his own against a burly man with thick black hair. The black fabric slipped down from the man’s face to reveal a jagged scar across his cheek and a crooked nose.

  As Sten subdued his man, another arrow flew from the forest. Sten swore loudly and took off for the tree line, no doubt after the archer, his thick, powerful legs pumping as he ran.

  As Sten disappeared into the forest, another bandit emerged from the trees up the road and headed for Damien. Taegis was currently engaged in a fight, and Karl was even farther away.

  Damien needed her help.

  Selene dashed along the road, bypassing Damien, and met the man as he made his way along the dirt path. She stopped halfway between Damien and the approaching highwayman and repositioned her makeshift swords to have her right arm up and across her body, her left ready to swing.

  The bandit stopped just outside her reach. “Move,” he snarled through the black cloth across his face, his green eyes narrowed. “Move and you won’t get hurt.”

  Selene answered by standing still, ready to strike the moment he took another step.

  His eyes crinkled as he studied her weapons and laughed. “You come at me with sticks?”

  Selene remained motionless. Though his voice was muffled through the cloth, she thought she detected an unfamiliar accent.

  His eyes narrowed again, and he gave
out a shout. The moment he stepped forward, Selene swung her right sword down at an angle, catching his jaw with a powerful swing and ripping the cloth away from his mouth.

  He staggered back, but she gave him no time to recover. She moved into the empty space and thrust her left stick hard into his gut, then swung her right stick across the other side of his face, sending his head flying in the other direction. Then she brought her leg up and kicked him in the same spot she had hit moments before with her left stick. The man stumbled back, one arm across his stomach as he moaned and spit up blood.

  There was a shout behind her.

  Selene spun around. Damien was hunched over, one hand on his thigh as he held his sword up to block an incoming hit from his opponent. Taegis was far away now, along the tree line, and Karl down the road.

  Damien’s sword sagged and his face twisted in pain. The man prepared for another blow—

  Breathing hard, Selene sprinted toward the bandit. As she approached, she suddenly jumped and rotated her body, using her momentum to swing her whole body around and bring both sticks in concussive cracks across the man’s neck. If the sticks had been her swords, she would have severed his head. Instead, he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  Selene landed a few feet from Damien and gulped in a lungful of air. It was one thing to practice on a dummy, or her mother, or Amara, and quite another to actually fight. Adrenaline coursed through her body, but already her limbs were growing weary.

  “I’ve been hit,” Damien said through clenched teeth as he clutched his leg. Sweat poured down his face. An arrow stuck out from his thigh, above the knee. It looked like it was lodged in the muscle. Still, it was a wound and—

  He looked up. “Watch out!”

  Selene swung around, bringing her branches with her, and caught the incoming sword on her right stick, directing the sword’s trajectory away from her body. Her stick cracked under the blow, sending a fissure up the wood. Not good.

  “Damien! Toss me your sword!” Selene yelled, glancing back as she threw down the broken stick.

  He didn’t even hesitate. He pitched the sword to her, blade up. She caught it by the hilt with her right hand just as the man’s blade came down on her other stick.