Grandmother was humming to herself. It wasn’t the family lullaby this time; it was a tune that Cordelia had never heard before, lilting and flicking like steps in a dance, and Grandmother sashayed across the floor as she hummed it. ‘Almost … almost there … Oh, my goodness, it’s the famous Lord Haldemere, isn’t it?’
She laughed, a low, delighted sound, and flicked out a cloth as she spun around, dropping into a mock curtsey for her imaginary audience. ‘Why, yes, it has been some time since you’ve seen me at court, my lord. But what a pity for you that I’ve returned, because I happen to have an excellent memory! I remember all your plots against me. And as grandmother to the new ruler and greatly favoured by their regents – well! Who knows just what I might choose to do? Perhaps I’ll let you wonder and wait for a time before I decide upon my perfect revenge. Or perhaps, if I’m feeling really generous …’
Fully absorbed in her grandmother’s words and movements, Cordelia hadn’t even realised that she was moving, herself – until she found herself fluttering half an inch below the furthest rafter, well on her way back into full view. The light from the flames in the fireplace had drawn her without a conscious thought. Stupid moths!
She flapped swiftly back upward, every sense still attuned to her grandmother’s vicious stream of words.
‘You don’t think much of my grandchild, my lord? Well, neither do I, to be perfectly frank. But everyone knows that a child-ruler is ruled by their regents, and when their regents can be persuaded – or enspelled – into good sense … well, then, what can’t we do with them, eh?’
The receptors in Cordelia’s wings took in every word, storing them all up to dissect and stew over later.
And then the tip of her right wing touched something sticky. Startled, she twisted in mid-air to yank her wing free … and the glistening, waiting spiderweb captured her left wing too.
Grandmother was still practising her greetings down below, but high up in the rafters, panic flooded Cordelia’s fragile body. Frantically, she wriggled and twisted to get free. Every turn only tangled her deeper and deeper within the web. Pictured again and again in her fractured view, a giant spider raced across the glimmering strands towards her on a rippling wave of giant, hairy brown legs.
To a human, that spider might have been hand-sized. From Cordelia’s perspective, it was overwhelming.
Her tiny moth-body was frantic to escape, and panic gave those instincts full control. No matter how hard she tried, Cordelia couldn’t stop the useless thrashing of her wings. But she was still a girl inside, and she knew the truth: no moth could possibly escape from this.
Even if she turned herself into a spider, tangled as she was now, she might still be prey to the web’s guardian. But if she changed into anything strong enough to break free, how could Grandmother not notice what was happening right above her?
Cordelia’s wings whirred frantically within their trap. The spider’s hairy brown body settled into place just above her, filling every facet of her compound vision. Its jointed jaw cracked open. Dark fangs flashed. Venom trembled at their tips …
And the web broke with a snap as Cordelia lunged upward. Her tiny, helpless moth-body had shifted into a massive black crow, whose claws ripped the web around her to hapless shreds. Her long, sharp beak seized the big brown spider and swallowed it whole with a harsh ‘Cawwww!’ of defiance.
Grandmother’s voice cut off abruptly below.
Too late to be stealthy now! Cordelia tore her way free of the web-dense rafters and dived down like vengeance with her long claws fiercely outstretched.
Some things are instinctive even for the most powerful people. Faced with a screaming crow diving directly at her eyes, Grandmother flinched, hands flying up to shield her face. It was only for an instant – but that was enough. Cordelia swooped over her dark head and through the high, narrow window beyond, where the wooden shutter had been propped open to let bright daylight inside.
Black feathers scattered in her wake as she squeezed through. Only a moment later, she was a tiny, near-invisible mosquito hovering against the outer wall above the window – and as the front door of the cottage burst open and Grandmother lunged outside in pursuit, she nipped swiftly and silently back in.
‘Run!’ Connall had ordered her. ‘Don’t turn back for anything!’ But she wasn’t running anywhere without Giles and Rosalind. Families were supposed to protect each other, even if her own grandmother didn’t understand that.
Turning back into girl form, she lunged across the room to wrap her arms around the big, round oak table and half shove, half haul it across the rush-covered floor. Groaning with effort, she pushed it hard against the door. There. With luck, Grandmother would take ages to hunt for the bird who’d so mysteriously attacked her and then disappeared. Anyone trained in magic would have to know there had been nothing natural in that attack. She might even think that the bird had been a spy from some rival sorcerer.
But the moment she gave up her search …
Cordelia hurtled across the rushes and dropped to her knees before the cedar chest in the corner, nerves jangling through every breath. With shaking fingers, she turned the heavy copper key and flung open the lid.
‘Wake up!’ she whisper-screamed at her triplets, who still slept tangled in their pile. ‘Wake up now!’
But they didn’t listen to her when they were asleep any more than they did when awake.
Behind her, the door of the cottage rattled. A moan of protest broke from her lips.
Too soon! She hadn’t managed to wake either of them yet. She couldn’t break the spell on her own, no matter what Connall thought. Grandmother’s potion was too powerful.
But maybe there was something else that she could do.
Cordelia’s gaze settled on the cooling black pot that sat beside the fireplace – and the golden goblet that had fallen in her scramble to push the oak table to the door.
‘What a clever child you are, my dear!’ Grandmother carolled through the door. ‘You should have slept for hours yet – but it won’t make any difference, you know. Whatever little tricks you’re planning – and casting a bird illusion to distract me was impressive! – my magic will win in the end. Did your mother even bother to train you properly? Or did she keep her own tricks secret, like everything else she hid from you?’
Gritting her teeth, Cordelia scooped up the empty goblet from the floor and started towards the pot.
‘How many secrets have you ever managed to winkle out of her?’ Grandmother crooned. ‘It was so convenient for Kathryn, wasn’t it, to keep you locked up in the forest for all these years? Utterly safe from interference, with no one who’d ever dare let you know the dangerous truth about yourselves … Did she never drop any hints about who you truly are? Or those other brats either?’
Brats?
No one was allowed to insult her triplets. ‘You don’t know anything about me or my family,’ Cordelia snarled. ‘But if you’re talking about the Raven Crown—’
‘Aha!’ Grandmother let out a pealing laugh of delight. ‘So it is you causing all this trouble, little girl. I had a feeling that it might be! The others aren’t even awake yet, are they? But you were too wild to stay asleep for long.’ She breathed her words through the door. ‘It’s just you and me, now, dear. Do you truly believe you can stand against my magic?’
No. That answer was as obvious as the open window high above, still offering Cordelia one last chance at escape.
Swallowing hard, she took a slow, unhappy step towards the oak table that blocked the door. She knew what she had to do.
‘That’s it,’ Grandmother murmured. ‘Come closer, now. The truth is, my dear, the two of us can work together. I only need the Raven heir, you see.’ Her words purred through the air, soft and tingling. ‘You can go free if you help me now. You’re a feral one, aren’t you? You’d never fit in at court, I know. It would be miserable for everyone involved. But I can make quite certain that you’ll never be chased by any bothersome kn
ights again.’
Cordelia rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘Connall already told me that the dukes and duchesses won’t ever let go of any possible heirs.’
‘Ah, but I know something you don’t about this family.’ Grandmother’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘It all comes down to the mystery of you three children … and your mother’s most unforgivable secret.’ She gave a low hum of anticipation. ‘Don’t you want to know why she’s been so desperate to keep the truth about your past hidden, even from you?’
Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat. All those years she’d spent trapped inside without any explanations …
Two images flashed before her eyes:
Mother sinking to her knees as she sent them away. ‘I love you all so much.’
… And Connall’s face when he’d realised exactly where they were now. She had never understood, until today, why he had spent his life so afraid.
‘I’m not doing anything for you, no matter what you promise me.’ Shifting shape, Cordelia snapped out hawk wings and pumped hard, clenching strong claws around her burden. Too heavy, too heavy …
She had to get higher.
Grandmother’s voice was already chanting outside. Something slammed against the front of the door with a boom. Wood shavings splintered and flew into the room. The oak table slid an inch across the floor.
Faster! Pain shot through Cordelia’s labouring legs and wings.
Giles and Rosalind snored on peacefully behind her.
Slam!
The oak table skidded across the room.
The door flew wide open. Grandmother stalked inside, arms raised to hurl a spell.
With a desperate screech, Cordelia opened her claws and dropped the refilled golden goblet over her grandmother’s dark head.
Liquid splashed everywhere. It soaked Grandmother’s elegant, beaded hairnet and flooded her face. It filled her mouth too, as she gurgled with shock, tipping her head back and spinning around to search for the source of the attack.
Cordelia saw realisation dawn in those too-familiar dark eyes as their gazes met and clashed. Grandmother’s wet face contorted in fury. Her hands rose like claws, preparing to launch more magic. Cordelia wheeled backwards through the air, crying out. She could never fly away in time …
But her grandmother slid to the floor an instant later, arms falling limply to her sides. ‘Stupid girl!’ she moaned. Her shoulders hit the ground with a thud. ‘Fighting me for those two brats, when …’ Her eyes slipped closed with her yawn. ‘You’re not even … their real sister!’
A moment later she was asleep, her hairnet pillowed in the rushes, with a fresh line of drool slipping down her wet cheek …
… Leaving Cordelia hovering numbly in mid-air with those final words echoing endlessly through her.
It was good to be an animal. Good that her triplets – that Giles and Rosalind – were still asleep, not awake and asking unanswerable questions.
Cordelia left them piled in the cedar chest. In bear form, she hauled it out of the cottage, bursting through the doorframe and leaving the entrance in a shambles behind her. She shifted back to a girl only for long enough to put together a harness out of Lady Elianora’s belongings so that she could drag the heavy chest behind her.
Even that was almost too much thinking to endure. She could hardly stand to wait until everything was safely fastened; until she could finally shift and run, straining every muscle with effort, as fast and as hard as she could away from the cottage.
‘Trust me. Trust Mother, trust Alys, and thank all the surviving spirits of the land that you and Giles and Rosalind are still together.’
Did Connall not know the truth about Cordelia either? Or had he been lying to her all along?
Did he even think of himself as her brother?
Her roar sent birds scattering from all the branches ahead. She tipped her head down and pushed herself faster.
Lady Elianora’s wall of air had broken when she’d lost consciousness. Cordelia would have burst through it anyway, in this mood. She wanted to crash hard against something. To break things. She wanted to fight someone with slashing claws and teeth.
She wanted—
She burst through the tree line, panting. The sight ahead of her made all four paws slam to a halt. The heavy chest landed against her with a thump. She sagged to the ground, barely aware of the collision.
The forest had ended. It had actually ended! She was looking outside for the first time in her life … and it looked nothing like she had imagined.
All those books that Mother had read aloud and the ballads that Giles had learned from his books were full of great houses and colourful pageantry – or crowded towns overflowing with adventures. She’d expected to find tall buildings everywhere, flying bright flags and full of people.
What she saw instead was a wasteland.
There were no buildings on the vast plain that stretched before her, only bare brown dirt that spread to rolling, dead-brown hills in the far distance. Long furrows branded the plain like scorch marks. She could make out faded patterns in the dirt where rows of plants might once have grown … but no more. Some disaster had ravaged this place and left nothing alive in its wake.
There was no birdsong in the open, echoing air and no hum of insects to tug her forward. Wildflowers and weeds should have covered the abandoned earth. The forest should have sent forth strong roots to gain new ground.
But her big bear body understood why none of that had happened, because the warning shot up through her paws, the scent and message unmistakable to any animal instinct:
Stay away!
This place smelt overwhelmingly wrong. It was broken.
She had nowhere else to go.
Cordelia wanted her fierce, enraging mother so intensely that she would have howled with pain if she’d only had the strength left. She would have given anything to close her eyes and find herself back inside the protective walls of their stone castle, with no poisonous whispers or hidden truths ever to be uncovered.
Even when Mother’s decisions had been infuriating, Cordelia had always known that she was safe, because Mother was in charge, Mother was all-powerful, and Mother would do anything to protect her family.
Mother was a prisoner now, because of Cordelia.
… And Cordelia might not even be her real daughter.
Was that why Mother had always said there was no point in trying to harness Cordelia’s powers? What kind of magic did Cordelia have, anyway? All four of the children were supposed to have been born with the same magical potential to control the world around them with sorcery … but all Cordelia could ever do was shift her own shape. She’d always been half animal inside anyway.
Why didn’t her magic work like Connall’s and the others’? She had always taken that difference for granted, just as she’d taken her jostling, noisy family for granted … until now.
Even without any real training, when Giles had really needed it, he’d been able to use his natural magic to affect the world around him. Mother had always said that Rosalind could do that too. Cordelia was the only one who’d been deemed untrainable … and not only in the way that her magic worked.
She was the only one Mother hadn’t trusted to know about that tunnel under the moat – because she was the one who had been half feral from the moment she’d been born. She was the one who’d been constantly tugged beyond the safety of their castle walls by an invisible hook in her chest that never seemed to touch any of the others … as if she’d secretly never belonged inside with them in the first place.
Was that why the land was talking to her now and the others couldn’t hear it? The thought made a shudder ripple through her massive body.
Every time she’d ever flown away to explore, she had known that her family, noisy and loving and aggravating, would be waiting for her when she returned. But now …
‘We wouldn’t be here at all if she ever stayed where she was supposed to be.’ That was what Giles had said about
her that first night, after they’d all been forced to flee.
He’d been right.
Had he and Rosalind even thought they’d had any choice about forgiving her? They still thought she was their sister – the only family they had left.
If they ever found out that she wasn’t …
She would lose them right now if she sat thinking any longer! Lady Elianora was still too close behind. Those dukes and their knights wouldn’t give up hunting for them, either.
So Cordelia lumbered back up on to all four padded paws, groaning with the pain of the effort.
She had been waiting all her life to explore outside the forest. Now she picked up one paw at a time and forced herself on to the rough, scarred and broken earth, aiming for those bare hills in the far distance and pulling the heavy cedar chest behind her.
It was almost three hours later, and early evening, when the bumping of the cedar chest against the ground suddenly changed. It was rocking back and forth behind her now, jerking against the makeshift harness and yanking hard. Muffled voices sounded inside.
Finally. Her triplets were awake.
The bubbling feeling that that stirred up inside her felt as much like dread as like relief.
She could still pretend she hadn’t noticed—
‘Cordelia!’ they both yelled at once.
‘Grr!’ Growling with frustration, Cordelia’s furry body tipped to a halt on the dry, cracked ground. She would have stayed in bear form to avoid any awkward questions, but she needed human fingers to unstrap the harness and manage the big key in its lock. She turned it carefully until it clicked—
And they had her.
‘Thank goodness!’ Rosalind surged upward, flinging open the lid. ‘I thought I’d choke in there. Giles’s stink—’
‘My stink?’ Giles’s red head popped up behind her. ‘I’m not the one who—oh.’ He blinked at the vast brown earth around them. ‘Where are we? Where’s Grandmother?’
The Raven Heir Page 7