by E Hall
Later, Trotter treats us to a hearty dinner. Cider flows and a game of tiles starts, in which I win, giving my dukhs to Trotter as repayment for his generosity. He refuses them.
Afterward, Kiki and I excuse ourselves to the shed to check on the raven. On my way, I sneak into Trotter’s office and leave the dukhs in the drawer of his desk.
We settle in a nest of leftover straw, conferring in whispers, going over our respective roles in the plan, and trying to find loopholes, weak spots, and problems. As Gerda said, no one person should know the entire plan, but we trust each other.
“Aren’t you tired?” I ask. I am and cold. I blow onto my fingers and rub them together.
“A bit,” she admits. “But I’ve only been in Raven’s Landing a short time. I imagine the people here are more tired of the king’s tyranny than I am missing a night’s sleep. It’s a small price to pay.”
“What about your magic?”
“It’s unexpected,” she whispers in the near darkness. “It seems like the more I use my fae powers, the more energy and power I have.”
“You aren’t scared,” I say. I am.
“He wants us to be afraid. Right now we have the opportunity to rise above our fears and do what’s right.”
“Freedom is right,” I say.
“Love is right,” she adds.
My lips land on hers because despite her courage, this could be the last time. I tangle my hands in her hair, drawing her mouth to mine again and again, kissing her lips, her cheeks, the smooth places behind her ears. Our hands link together.
I promise myself to her, to our future, leaving no room for fear. We’re committed to freedom, maybe even to love. We melt in each other’s arms, pressed together, a wordless vow that no matter what, we’ll never let go.
Her lips part slowly and she says, “Soren, my name is Ineke.”
“Ineke,” I repeat, feeling the sound of it on my lips. In her eyes, I see not just possibility, but infinity.
“I feel like I know you now and you know me. My name is a promise to you. Only you. I won’t leave your side.” She pauses and then adds, “Not until this is over.”
“What about after this is over?” I whisper as we lean closer. “What if I won’t leave your side?”
“Then you’ll make me very happy.” Her smile warms me.
I’m so close to her lips I notice a little crescent-shaped scar on her chin and I kiss it.
I fall into a restless sleep, my dreams violent, and desperate. I try to grasp hope—that we’ll make it, save the people of Raven’s Landing from the king, the Shadow Army, and that I’ll have the opportunity to remain by Kiki’s side. I hesitate to use her full name. It holds power I’m not sure I’m ready for.
It’s still dark when Kiki gently nudges me awake. “It’s time,” she whispers, still wrapped in my arms. I reluctantly brush off sleep, wishing we could stay in the safety and warmth of this straw bed for days.
Trotter helps us roll the raven onto the street. We avoid torchlight, but several seers surround us, watching for demons. Ten members of the Rising hide in the raven’s belly, including Gerda and Grunk.
The light behind shuttered windows flickers. Overnight, Raven’s Landing didn’t seem to fall into a deep slumber while the rumors about the return of the ravens trickled like a stream of water, growing into rushing rapids.
The sky weighs heavy with clouds, masking the moon and likely, within the next hours, the sun. We move slowly through the town and toward the castle.
The ashpit, just outside the castle gate, smolders with the reminder of the king’s cruelty. Patrols assemble on the far side of the moat, standing guard. The king’s mage, Glandias, the same bald, robe-wearing woman who greeted Kiki in the daylight when she first tried to meet the king, waits for us as we proceed along the icy ground.
“You returned.” Her voice is like sour milk.
“We have a gift for the king,” I announce.
“A gift?” she asks suspiciously, her laughter liquid. “Are you turning yourselves in for breaking the law?”
“We broke the law to bring him the ravens he seeks,” I say.
Kiki’s shoulders rack with a harsh cough.
Glandias appraises her and then warily at the wooden construction at our backs. “Quite a large enclosure for such small creatures.”
“We have quite a few.”
On cue, a cacophonous kraa kraa slips between the slats. However, it must be convincing enough because the rattle of the chains to the gate clink. If the bridge hadn’t lowered, we’d be able to cross the moat on the tension floating between the patrol, the king’s mage, and us.
Glandias says, “Before I grant you an audience, I must see the birds.”
“That’s not possible,” I say, having prepared for this. “They’re not ordinary birds, as you’re likely aware. If we open the hatch, they’ll attack, again.”
I point to the scratch on my cheek, opposite the scar, courtesy of Gerda and some pig’s blood.
Glandias balks. “You expect me to allow you to present aggressive birds to the king?”
I smile, knowing this was going to be his query. “I trust the king is not afraid of a couple of little birds.” My appraising glance suggests he’s a fool for acknowledging her own fears and doubting her king.
The mage nods and then says, “Of course.”
The bridge lowers, and we cross. The water in the moat rushes over the rocks below and despite my winter layers, a chilly unease coats my skin.
The patrol takes our weapons, including the sword Kiki got from Vespertine.
Invisibly, she uses her powers to move the heavy, giant bird, filled with ten of Raven’s Landing’s strongest fighters, up the cobbled path. As we make progress, she coughs intermittently, the ravens call, and their wings brush against the cage, keeping up the charade.
Torches burn low as we wind toward the central court at the foot of the main entrance to the castle. The towers stab the sky. The windows are dark and the wide, wooden doors remain closed.
The patrol flanks the raven and the mage walks ahead of us with her hands folded behind her back.
Fjallhold looms more massive and imposing with each step. The walls lining the path to the central court swirl with sooty carvings: beaks and wings, mountains and trees, the sea and sky. Fjallraven must have once been brilliant: a beacon of strength and abundance.
Instead of balking, a surge of energy rises inside of me.
We come to a stop at the foot of the stone stairs, leading to the carved door. The birds’ wings beat against the inside of the wooden cage and their frantic calls compete with Kiki’s barking cough as part of our ruse.
The patrol nearest us surreptitiously shift away.
“She’s been sick. There was a storm during our journey and she fell ill,” I explain.
Kiki leans heavily against me. The cough shudders through her, agitating the birds, and masking the pattering of feet on the cobbles as a few of the Raven’s Rising make their escape from the cage.
“We were hoping, in addition to the sum for the birds, the king could also provide her with a healer.” We play the roles of innocent young lovers quite well.
Glandias scoffs and then says, “You’ll wait here and not bring your pestilence upon the king.”
I expect the doors to sweep open.
We wait for him to appear.
The dim gray of morning creeps across the sea on densely packed clouds. The black raven, camouflaged under the blanket of night, takes shape against the lightening sky.
I listen for footsteps as the members of the Rising tread lightly over the cobbles to grant access to the other members through storm drains and unattended guard shacks. I glance into the corners, seeking the assuring blink of an eye, telling me everyone is in position when Kiki coughs violently. I grip her hand.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
The clouds roll closer. Sparse snowflakes whirl in the sky and drift smoothly down.
Someo
ne shouts, breaking the relative quiet.
Guards shove four of the Rising onto the stone steps who were hidden inside the raven. They don’t search the wooden bird, so they must not realize where they came from, but this doesn’t bode well.
All at once, King Leith emerges from the castle doors. He is a thin, gliding shadow, veiled in black and appearing behind the guards and captives like a specter. His silver crown with its glinting stone is the only thing breaking the darkness ensconcing him.
The snow falls harder now, painting the black raven white.
Chapter 26
Ineke
My first thought: Scriv betrayed us, informing the guards of our plan.
My second thought: since the mage and patrolmen haven’t seized us, then they don’t know the extent of our trickery.
My third thought: I’ll fool them all and deceive the king myself.
The ravens flap, the sound thrown from some secret place inside me to the wooden enclosure, reaching the ears of the king and his men.
I slip my hand from Soren’s and step forward.
From behind me, Soren gasps physically rather than audibly.
Walking up the stone steps to address the king was not part of the plan. We agreed that Soren was to do the talking. During the long hours that I fought sleep, I avoided the drop into dreams, concerned that the king would see the strategies and secrets woven into my thoughts. Instead, I picked over and pulled apart everything that’s transpired since I arrived in this realm, including Vespertine’s comments, Soren’s dreams—ones he may not even remember—and the message from the demon.
Demons shadow thieve, while the fae court grieve. Four sisters to find. One compass to bind. Four crowns to take. One curse to break. Before twelve moons turn, else the realm will burn.
I will find my sisters and rid the realm of false kings and demons. I have the compass. I need the crown with its shimmering jewel. I will break the curse. But first, these people need their rightful leader.
“Your majesty,” I say, feigning respect.
“At last, you’ve come,” Leith replies from beneath the gauzy black fabric. His tone is a delighted thrill at my appearance within his stronghold as though I’m bendable to his will.
Our voices are strangely amplified; either through some construct of the castle and the walls funneling toward Raven’s Landing or through his power, I’m not sure. But I do know everyone can hear us by the way they stare, attentive at the scene unfolding on the castle steps.
Leith dips his head and I sense his probing energy trying to get into my mind. “You’ve been brazen fae girl, first coming to Raven’s Landing without so much as a proper hello and then escaping these walls with a young, inked criminal.” His head shifts subtly in Soren’s direction.
Raven’s Landing is like a giant cage.
The people are flightless beneath a sky laden with snow.
There is nothing I want more for them than freedom and an end to Leith’s violence. I may have wanted to be a Police Officer, but in this instance, I’ll turn to my training as a Peace Officer to prevent more carnage. Then if all else fails, I’ll fight. But I don’t want it to come to that.
I still my thoughts, but for one: the panicked flapping of the purported birds, keeping up the charade and the prison Leith will soon find for himself.
The veil twitches over the vague outline of the king’s lips. “What is this gift you bring me?” he asks, his attention drawn to the giant wooden raven.
“Something you desire very much,” I say.
“Ah, then we are of like mind.”
“If by that you mean victory then yes,” I say.
“I like the way you think,” Leith replies.
You are so off base, and creepy, dude. But the longer I keep him distracted and talking, the better chance we have. Villains from movies always seem to love to brag about how evil they are so maybe he’s no different.
“I appreciate you bringing these traitors to me...and yourself.”
“Yes, myself. I’ve come to enter into your service, king.” I try to avoid Soren’s shocked gaze, but my eyes land hard and I say with them what I can’t out loud. Forgive me.
“I’ll gladly use your abilities to my advantage. The Shadow Army needs capable leaders, but—” His attention curls around the way my gaze lingered on Soren a moment too long. “But I see the way you look at him. I’ve seen that look before.” He clucks his tongue. “You either think you’re mighty tricky or you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for his safety. Admirable but foolish.” The fingers of one gloved hand wrap around the other. “So we’re clear, I always claim what is mine.” He laughs darkly.
More like what isn’t yours to take, but not for much longer. And I want Soren to claim what’s rightfully his.
The patrol jostles the four members of the Rising that snuck in with the wooden raven.
“Yes, I know that look and I don’t trust it—love, a sign of weakness. Why do you wish to be in my service?” he asks.
To steal your crown. To make you pay. To clear the throne for the true king.
When I don’t answer right away, a guard’s hands jostle me hard and point blades toward me, daring me to try to struggle or run. Another group of guards train their blades on Soren who backs closer to the giant bird.
I lift my chin defiantly but continue my attempt to win Leith’s favor and get close enough to seize the crown. “Because I know the truth now. I’ve seen what you desire in your dreams. Yes, I can lead the Army of Shadow Fae.” I could, but I didn’t say that I would.
I imagine him smiling grimly under his veil. “And in your dreams, I’ve seen your potential. Yes, you could lead the Army, but what of—?” He gestures vaguely toward Soren.
“It’s nothing,” I grind out. I’ve never been good at lying. It ordinarily almost pains me to do so, but this is agonizing. My mother was incapable of telling anything but the truth when asked, in fact. But the crown means everything and I’ll do what I have to do.
The grim-faced members of the Raven’s Rising that were captured stand in a rigid line, also guarded with weapons.
Leith faces them and hisses, “Make no mistake. I will leave you begging to be thrown into the ashpit.” He wheels in my direction. “Let’s test your loyalty.”
My chest craters because I can only imagine what he intends for me to do.
The patrol dutifully encourages him with a chorus of dark laughter.
“If you’d like to pledge your service to me, you will take a life. Think of it as a trade...”
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll take his.” He points at Soren.
Soren’s eyes widen.
“I’m not afraid,” I say defiantly, feeling the familiar chill sweep over my skin as the snow blows from the sky.
He stops. His veil crimps when he says, “You will be.”
If I were anyone else, I’d believe him. Almost all of the people in Raven’s Landing have bought into fear. He’s persuasive, scary even, veiled in black. His guards obey and follow his command, but I won’t.
He assesses each of the members of the Rising and then selects a husky sized guy I only vaguely recognize from the tavern. “You. Come forth.”
I don’t move.
The guard shoves the man forward.
I can’t meet his gaze.
Leith paces between us. “Years ago, when I came into power, I offered a reward to anyone who captured Torsuld’s ravens. It wasn’t because I was fond of the birds. It wasn’t because I’m charitable and wanted to look after the dreaded things. It wasn’t because I was hoping two young fools would someday bring them to me. Do you know why I wanted the ravens?”
I’m as silent as snow.
“Because I wanted revenge.”
“As do I,” Gerda says, appearing from behind the big wooden bird. Her eyes are as dark as an extinguished hearth.
The patrol remains coiled, awaiting the king’s command, but it doesn’t come. After a long pause,
he lets out a gritty laugh. “You, again?” However, his robes billow as though he stumbles with surprise over who he sees.
This wasn’t part of the plan either.
Gerda steps closer to him, her muscles tensed. Her words mimic Leith’s. “It wasn’t that I hated my sister. It was that I didn’t know how to love her. Now it’s too late for that, but it’s never too late for vengeance.” All at once, she springs on the king, casting aside his veil and holding him at knifepoint.
I expect her to recoil at his appearance, but she holds steady.
King Leith’s scarred, paper-like skin bleeds with ink. His eyes are empty wells of darkness.
Gerda presses the knife harder against his throat. “I could do it now,” she hisses.
“It would make no difference. I’m immortal.” He leers.
Two guards grab Gerda’s arms. Her blade clatters to the ground. Her moment’s hesitation cost her the opportunity.
“You want to play the game too?” he asks her.
“People’s lives aren’t a game,” she says, struggling to break free.
“I believed that too, once. It’s too bad you weren’t there to convince my family of the same,” he says, throwing the word family like it’s dirty. “I was their pawn. The spare. The overlooked and underestimated heir.” He paces between the line of patrol at his back and me: still planted a step below him on the stairs and flanked by two guards with blades drawn. “They sent me north to Innsbruck—to hide my fae powers from favor, from the kingdom. I wasn’t good enough for the castle. But the mages there saw my potential.” He glances at, Glandias, the grim mage in the red robe.
“Now, who bows before me? All of you,” Leith says.
I sense Soren watching from the foot of the stairs and am sure to make the would-be birds in the cage rustle every few minutes. I want to drag this on as long as possible, give the others a chance to get into position, and apologize for going off the map as the king reveals the truth of his lies, at last. As brave as the Raven’s Rising is, seeing that they were outnumbered and outmatched, I wanted to prevent more fighting by appealing to the king. Now, we’re all backed into a corner.
