Flight of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

Selene rounded the corner in surprise. What happened? Where did the light go—?

  Hands grabbed her feathered body. Selene cawed and fought back with her wings and talons.

  “You are mine, little raven,” the Dark Lady hissed. “You always will be.”

  “Never! Damien, help me!”

  Selene sat up with a gasp. Her covers were tangled around her body and drenched in sweat. The wind rattled the windows and moaned outside. Grey clouds filled the sky, accentuating the chill inside her bedroom.

  She leaned forward and gripped the front of her nightgown, breathing heavily. She could still feel the Dark Lady’s cold hands around her and the terror that had encapsulated her.

  Why, after all this time, after her supplications back at Rook Castle, was the Dark Lady finally visiting her?

  But I don’t want her. Not anymore.

  She held her face in her hands. Why did she keep dreaming about this? Was this her dreamscape?

  The door wrenched open at the foot of her bed, and Damien burst in, his shirt untucked and his feet bare. “Selene, are you all right?”

  Her eyes went wide, and she pulled the furs up to her chest. “Yes. Why?”

  He leaned against the doorway and ran a hand through his untidy hair. “I heard you yelling and I thought . . .” He looked back at her and dropped his hand. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. It was only a-a nightmare.”

  “A nightmare? Do you want to talk about it?”

  Selene turned away. “No. Not really.”

  There was a pause. “I understand. Some things are too hard to speak of.”

  Her head snapped up. Was he referring to the death of his family?

  “If ever you want to talk, just let me know.”

  She had half a mind to tell him of the Dark Lady and her fears, but something stopped her. Was it shame?

  “I’ll see you soon.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  Selene frowned. See you soon? She pressed a hand to her forehead. She had forgotten Damien had invited her to break their fast together this morning. Something about sharing a family tradition with her.

  She dropped her hand and pushed the heavy quilts and furs aside. The cold air helped clear her mind as she stood to her feet. The floor was icy to the touch, sending another jolt of awakening through her body. The thought of spending the morning with Damien lightened her heart, banishing the images from her most recent nightmare. The Dark Lady could not have her. Her mother and sister might worship the Lady of the Night, but not her. She wanted something more. Something new. And her life with Damien could give her that chance.

  Selene shivered from the cold, reaching for the wrap that lay at the end of her bed. As she pulled it across her shoulders, she paused. She remembered screaming Damien’s name in her dream. Had she yelled his name in the physical world as well?

  He had obviously come from bed to check on her, given his state of undress. The thought touched her heart, and warmth spread across her body, reaching her fingers and her toes.

  A half hour later, Selene sank down on the rug beside Damien inside his room. Snow fell gently outside the windows, and the fire popped and crackled within the large fireplace a couple of feet in front of them. She eyed the silver platter that sat on the floor on his other side. A round of bread had been sliced and lay fanned out on a plate, along with a small-lidded crock, a pot of tea, and two cups.

  Damien grabbed what looked like a poker out of a vase near the fireplace, only there were three metal prongs at the end instead of a metal hook. He took one of the thick slices of bread, pressed the bread into the prongs, then held the poker near the fire.

  “Are you cooking the bread?” Selene asked.

  “Toasting it. On snowy mornings, my mother would invite Quinn and I into this room, and we would toast bread together.”

  Selene glanced over to find Damien smiling wistfully. The smell of warm bread began to fill the room, causing her stomach to gurgle. “Sounds like a nice memory.”

  “It is. And it’s a memory I wanted to share with you.”

  Damien pulled the poker back a minute later. The bread was golden brown now, and crispy along the edges. He blew on it a few times before pulling the toast off. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

  Selene took the toast with a frown. “Now what?”

  Damien grinned and reached around. He picked up the small crock and the accompanying knife and lifted the lid off to reveal creamy white butter inside. “Hold out the toast.”

  Selene held up the toast. Damien dipped the knife into the crock, then spread the butter across the top. The butter melted across the surface, leaving the bread glistening and golden. The smell of toasted bread and butter made her mouth water.

  “All right, go ahead and eat it.”

  Selene took a bite and chewed, savoring the flavors. “This is good!”

  Damien laughed as he speared another slice of bread and held it near the fire. “It’s one of my favorite foods. Such a simple thing, and yet so comforting and delicious.”

  Selene munched away on the bread while Damien finished toasting his own. Then they sat in amiable silence, enjoying the simple fare and sipping their tea.

  “How often did your mother do this for you and your brother?” Selene asked as she wiped away the crumbs from her dress.

  “Many times. We would laugh and talk and eat toasted bread together.”

  A lump filled her throat. Selene leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees while she watched the flames dance across the logs. Time with her mother meant training and discourses on Ravenwood’s history and importance. She couldn’t even imagine sitting on a rug with her mother and Amara, laughing and enjoying toasted bread. The thought almost made her laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, except for the sudden tightness across her chest.

  “What memories or traditions do you have with your family?” Damien asked, spearing another piece of bread.

  The tightness grew. “My memories . . . are not like yours.”

  “Explain.”

  Selene had half a mind to ignore his request, but another part of her wanted to share. “We never laughed. And we rarely spent time together, other than for training and House Ravenwood affairs.”

  “By we, you mean . . .”

  “My mother and Amara. Everything we did had one goal: to further the interests of House Ravenwood. If it didn’t benefit House Ravenwood, we didn’t spend time on it. Ophie, however, is four, and so she has yet to be trained.”

  “Ophie?”

  “Opheliana. She is my youngest sister. She cannot speak, or at least has chosen not to. I think that’s part of the reason Mother keeps her sequestered in another part of the castle with Maura, her nursemaid.” Selene smiled softly as she gazed at the fire. “She is the sweetest little girl you will ever meet. And so kind.”

  “I had no idea there were three Ravenwood daughters.”

  “Most people don’t know about Ophie.”

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  Selene tightened her grip around her legs. “Yes.” She could hardly say the word.

  “I understand the feeling.”

  Selene glanced over. Yes, Damien understood the feeling all too well. The only difference was she might be able to see her sister someday. Damien would never see Quinn again, at least on this side of the veil.

  “So the only memories you have of Amara and your mother are ones of training?”

  Selene swallowed. “Yes.” The more she grew to know Damien’s family, the more she wished she could have experienced what he did, instead of the cold upbringing she had been forced to endure. At least Ophie was free of the weight of House Ravenwood. In some ways, her muteness was a blessing.

  “You know, we have a chance to make new memories.”

  Selene raised one eyebrow.

  “Together, you and I. Good ones.” He glanced down at his bent knees and spread his hands across the tops. “We both carry heavy responsibilities
as leaders of Great Houses, but I don’t want that to be the only thing we remember when we are old. I want there to be other memories too. I hope we laugh together, cry together, and enjoy the little things.” He motioned to the few crumbs that lay around his boots, alongside his empty teacup, and smiled.

  Selene stared at him. It was as if he had offered his hand to her, inviting her to a place of warmth and sunshine. A place like his dreamscape. She bit her lip, her chest aching at his words. “I would like that.”

  Damien looked up and his smile spread. Her heart fluttered strangely at the subtle shift in the way he looked at her. “Selene, may I ask you something?”

  Her heart began to thud inside her chest. “Yes,” she said, grateful her voice didn’t crack.

  Damien paused and leaned in. His eyes grew dark, like the sky at sunset. She could see every tiny scar, every line across his face. The firelight played along his skin, reminding her of the luminescence of his dream world. His face stirred her soul.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

  Her heart missed a beat as her mind went into a free fall. He was asking her for a kiss? Her mouth went dry as her thoughts scrambled for a foothold. “Why?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

  “I mean . . . we’re already married. Most couples have already kissed and . . .” Her cheeks lit on fire.

  That same gentleness spread from his mouth to his eyes. “Because I will never do anything without asking you first.”

  Was he saying he would wait if she said no? But did she want to say no? Eventually, if her desire was for this marriage to flourish, she would need to say yes.

  She curled her fingers beneath her palms. She wouldn’t do that to him. He had committed himself to her. She would not let fear rule her or her relationships.

  Selene worked her jaw and lifted her chin. He stared back with such conviction that she felt like she could draw on that alone for strength. If there was someone with whom she could be vulnerable, could open up her innermost heart, who already knew her and still wanted to remain by her side despite her past, it was him. “Yes,” she said quietly. “You may kiss me.”

  His eyes darkened further as he reached up and lightly brushed her cheek with his fingers. His touch sent tingles across her face and down her neck. Then he leaned in, slowly. She felt his breath across her lips and inhaled the earthy scent of tea.

  His lips touched hers.

  A torrent of feelings flooded her body, filling her with heat. His mouth lingered only for a moment before he pulled back, but it felt longer. And she wanted more. It was as if he had opened up a secret door inside her heart, one she had closed away, never letting anyone close. Until now.

  “Thank you.”

  Selene blinked, and Damien’s face came into focus. “What for?”

  “For your kiss.” He leaned away, a grin on his face as he turned his attention back to the fireplace.

  A bold spirit enveloped Selene. She smiled shyly and reached out her fingers, brushing the top of his knuckles. “I liked it.”

  His head snapped around. “You did?”

  She grinned back. “Yes.”

  It was Damien’s turn to look as if the rug had been pulled out from beneath him as he stared at her with his mouth open. She brushed his hand again, almost laughing. It was odd, and yet thrilling, to know she could make him look as stunned as she had felt moments ago.

  He leaned back toward her. “Then may I do it again?”

  Selene smiled as the fire danced across the logs and snow fell outside the windows. “Yes.”

  25

  Damien couldn’t stop thinking about Selene as he stood inside the massive hall inside Brightforest Citadel days later. The way she had looked sitting beside him in front of the fireplace, the way she smiled as they shared the toasted bread and tea, the way her lips felt when he kissed her the first time. And his surprise when she kissed him again. His whole body warmed at the memory, driving away the chill.

  And yet, he couldn’t dismiss the fact that he still wasn’t sure about the extent of her power. That same morning, a dozen servants and guards were found collapsed across the castle. Healer Sildaern had been able to revive them, but what were the chances this happened at the same time Selene was experiencing a nightmare and had called out to him?

  Was Selene using her dreamwalking gift on others around the castle? Was there more to her gift than either of them realized?

  Were his people in danger?

  He pressed two fingers to the middle of his forehead and closed his eyes. Light, what do I do?

  He breathed in deeply before dropping his hand. I said I would give her a chance, and I will stand by that until proven otherwise. He had five days before he headed back home to Northwind Castle, just in time for the Festival of Light. Time to think, reflect, and pray. And time to come up with a gift to give to Selene for the festival.

  Damien took a step closer to the crackling fire inside the fire pit and glanced around. Like Northwind Castle, Brightforest Citadel was made entirely of light grey stone and stood on a cliff overlooking the sea near the forest for which it was named. However, the building was functional, with none of the decorative etches or stonework of Northwind Castle. It had been built as the headquarters for the Northern Shores navy, the protecting force of House Maris.

  The air was frigid except for near the fire pits that lined the floor, one every thirty feet, with three total in the main hall. Thick wooden beams held the ceiling two stories above the room. Banners with the colors of House Maris hung from the beams, light blue with indigo waves enclosed in a white circle.

  “I don’t remember a winter quite this bitter.” Taegis stood beside Damien with his hands fanned out toward the fire and a scowl on his face.

  “Neither do I, but it does give us more time to prepare.”

  “That it does, if the men don’t freeze first.”

  “A little bit of frostbite never killed anyone,” a deep voice chimed in.

  Damien and Taegis turned to find an older gentleman decked out in leather and the colors of House Maris approaching them. Leather bracers were wrapped around his muscular forearms and thick boots covered his feet and calves. His chestnut-colored hair was pulled back and held in place with a leather cord. The rest of his face was clean-shaven.

  Taegis snickered. “Admiral Gerault.”

  Admiral Gerault bowed. “Lord Damien. Taegis.” He lifted his head and grinned at Taegis. “It’s been a while, my old friend.”

  “I still can’t believe someone thought it was a good idea to make you an admiral.”

  “And I can’t believe anyone listens to your advice.”

  “I still have a few good ideas.”

  “And apparently someone thinks I’m respectable.”

  The men laughed while Damien looked on and smiled. He didn’t know Admiral Gerault as well as he knew Taegis, but he did have fond memories of the older man at Northwind Castle, visiting with his father and sparring with Taegis. He’d lost his entire family during the plague, and yet the man could still smile. He was an inspiration.

  “Thank you for coming. While my captains assemble the men, please follow me to the meeting hall so we can speak privately.” Admiral Gerault turned and headed back toward a door at the rear of the cavernous room.

  Damien followed, with Taegis beside him. Inside the next room stood a long wooden table, benches, and another fire pit built into the stone floor. Along the top of the table was a map etched out in ink across cream-colored vellum. “I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a map of the lands here so we could speak first.”

  Damien stopped in front of the map and peered down. It was detailed, with every location labeled down to the last stream and trail.

  “Do you know what the other Great Houses have planned?” Admiral Gerault came to stand beside Damien.

  “I don’t. I hope with the break between storms that another set of carrier birds can be sent out. But this is what I have in mind:
First, every house mobilizes their military and readies their forces to move at a moment’s notice. Second, the Great Houses meet again at the end of winter. I am proposing the meeting to take place at Lux Casta.”

  “Lux Casta?” Admiral Gerault tugged on his chin. “Wouldn’t the capital city of House Vivek be a better choice since it’s near the wall and border?”

  Damien shook his head. “I’m not sure yet where the new grand lord’s alliances lie.”

  “So they found a replacement for Lord Rune and Lady Runa amongst the lesser houses?”

  “No. Lord Rune’s son is the new grand lord.”

  “Lord Rune’s son?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t realize he had a son.”

  “Very few did.” Apparently he would be having more of these discussions as the knowledge of Lord Renlar spread. Damien continued on. “And it is better for the Great Houses to meet farther, not closer, to the wall and the lands of House Friere.”

  Admiral Gerault frowned. “Then I take it House Friere is not an ally.”

  Damien sighed. “No. Not only did Lord Ivulf refuse to sign the treaty, I was made aware later that both House Friere and House Ravenwood are working with the empire.”

  The admiral’s head shot up. “What do you mean?”

  Damien glanced around. “It means the Great Houses are divided, and Friere and Ravenwood are our enemies.”

  “And what about your new wife? Isn’t she from House Ravenwood?”

  New wife. His heart gave a strange warble at the words. “She’s the reason I even know of such matters, as she’s defected from her own house.”

  His eyes widened. “I see. That’s quite a risk she took.”

  “Indeed.” Damien smiled softly down at the map. “The more I come to know her, the more I am convinced she will be a capable ally in the upcoming conflict.”

  “That is high praise coming from you, my lord.”

  Across the table, Taegis smiled.

  Yes, Damien missed Selene. But now was not the time to dwell on her. He needed to focus. “Going back to the map, here is what I need from you, Admiral Gerault: I will be bringing the sea barrier down. It has been siphoning my strength, and I will need my power elsewhere in the coming months. I also require the barrier down in order to travel to Lux Casta. So I will need the naval fleet to start patrolling our shores. I will also need our forces to be ready to move inland when the empire invades.”