The Storm Crow

by Kalyn Josephson

  I sat up, leaning close. “Have they seen her?”

  She shook her head. “It’s secondhand information, but I think the attack only proves it. If the princess is trying to organize a rebellion to take back Jindae, the last thing she’d want is for Rhodaire to ally with Illucia in any way. That makes more sense than a random attack by angry Rhodairen citizens.”

  I shoved a book across the table. “Even our allies are enemies then.” I pressed my face into my hands. It was all too much. Too many questions, too many things to do, too much effort. I’d just started getting out of bed every day; how was I supposed to handle all this?

  “We’ll figure it all out, Thia,” Kiva said. “One step at a time.”

  One step at a time. She’d said that to me every day for weeks. I struggled to latch on to the words. We’d possibly discovered who had ordered the attack on me. Now, I needed to hatch the egg. But how in the Saints’ name was I supposed to do that?

  I attempted a smile. “One step at a time.”

  * * *

  I woke paralyzed.

  As I’d slept, each of my worries had climbed into bed and settled on my chest like crows to roost. Late morning sunlight poured through the windows, teasing me with its light and warmth, but crawling out from under the covers seemed too big a task.

  Move.

  Nothing.

  This was how it was. One moment, I was moving forward, and the next, I couldn’t move at all. No matter how important the day or what I needed to do, the feeling came and refused to leave.

  I hated it.

  Why was I so weak? I’d been worthless the last few months. I still was. I couldn’t hatch the egg. Couldn’t help Rhodaire or myself.

  Useless.

  Illucia had taken everything from me, and I’d given up. They’d taken everything from the Jin princess too, and if the rumors were true, she’d organized a rebellion in response. Not to mention to have known about the engagement, she either had spies in our castle or Illucia’s.

  She’d lost everything, and she’d moved forward. Why couldn’t I?

  Someone knocked. I burrowed deeper into the blankets, blocking out the golden sunlight. Staying in bed was so much easier than getting up and facing everything waiting for me.

  The knocking came again, more fervent, which narrowed it to Kiva or Caliza. The door banged open. Caliza then.

  Loud footsteps preceded a flood of light as she tore back my blankets.

  I glared up at her. “Don’t you have more important things to do besides force me out of bed?”

  “You’re late for the tour.”

  Damn it. Pushing my pillow behind me, I slid up to sit against the headboard. “I forgot.”

  “You can’t keep fighting me every—”

  “I forgot!”

  She drew a sharp breath, nostrils flaring. Her words came out taut as a bowstring. “I understand you’re in pain, Anthia, but you’re not the only one, and you can’t keep wasting away your life wallowing in self-pity when—”

  “It isn’t self-pity!” I screamed. “I’m depressed!”

  My words echoed through the room, my chest rising and falling in quick bursts. The anger ebbed out of me, leaving behind a feeling I didn’t recognize. A beast inside me slowly uncoiled, releasing a tension so deeply ingrained, it had become a part of me.

  I’d never said those words before.

  I’d thought them. Kiva had hinted at them. But I’d never actually said them. Even now, repeating them in my head, they sounded ridiculous. I was sad and severely hurt, even angry, but depressed? I’d always told myself that it would pass. There had been good days.

  Good days, but never easy ones. Even now, some days were more manageable than others. Some hours, some seconds, I could handle, and the next, I wanted to let the world swallow me up. There were days where I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

  I’d been depressed. I still was.

  The hard edge in Caliza’s eyes softened. How long had I yearned for that sympathy? Now that I had it, I wanted it to go away. It made me feel pathetic.

  I threw back the covers and sprang out of bed, stalking to the far side of the room and back again. The air felt thick and charged, biting at my skin with implications. My defeat had burrowed under my skin and into my bones. It had carved out a space inside me and hooked in so deep that it smothered everything else I had been.

  I couldn’t remember feeling anything other than pain and misery and fear, all of it overlaid by a layer of guilt thick and suffocating as smoke. I’d shown more emotion in the last two days than I had in the months before.

  Illucia had destroyed my world, and now they’d come to take what I had left, and what had I really done? Snarl a few times at Ericen?

  This wasn’t me. I was a ghost living in my own skin.

  Caliza stood, and I faced her, jaw clenched as I waited for the inevitable lecture. The one where she told me to get over it and control myself. Her chest swelled, then suddenly, she deflated. “I’m sorry.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “I know what you must think of me, but I don’t want this for you, Thia. I’d marry him myself if I could.”

  The river of anxiety rushing through me slowed. Caliza had apologized twice now, and this wasn’t even her fault. Not really. It was an impossible situation. “I don’t want that either.”

  She collapsed onto the edge of my bed, burying her face in her hands. “I know. And I know I’ve been horrible, and I know I’ve been—”

  “Colder than a water crow’s ice?” I offered. She choked out a laugh. I reached out, then hesitated. I was used to seeing Caliza like steel, like our mother. Now she looked small and a little broken. I didn’t know how to comfort her.

  I sat beside her and laid my hand on her shoulder. She leaned into it, the tension in her body melting. “My life changed too, you know,” she said. “When we lost the crows. I had to learn to be queen, to take care of the kingdom and of you. I forgot to be your sister.”

  “I didn’t exactly make it easy.”

  She shook her head. “No. This isn’t your fault. The way you feel isn’t your fault.” Her words pulled loose something inside me, like a coil of yarn unspooling. “I’m so sorry for the things I said, Thia. I thought, if I was like Mother, if I pushed you…” Her lips pressed firm, her throat bobbing. “It was wrong. I was wrong.”

  A shudder racked my body, and I swallowed down a sob. I’d known she hadn’t meant to hurt me with the things she’d said, but it hadn’t stopped the pain.

  She met my gaze. “I don’t want you to go, but I can’t see what other choice we have. Everything I’ve read, everything I’ve been told says this is the right decision. We can’t stand against Illucia. They have the Ambriels and Jindae. If they declared war, they would destroy us.”

  “What about Trendell? Is Kuren trying to persuade them to fight?” My voice came out hoarse.

  Caliza smiled faintly at the mention of her husband. “He’s trying, yes. But the Trendellans are a peaceful people; they want no part in this. I’m sure they don’t want to send their few soldiers to slaughter either.”

  “So you’d surrender without a fight instead?”

  “This kingdom has already lost so much. It couldn’t survive another war.”

  I pulled my knees to my chest. “It won’t survive my marriage either. Illucia won’t settle for a lawful connection to Rhodaire. I don’t know whether they’re forming this bond until they’re ready to attack or what, but this can’t be all they’re planning.”

  “I know. But for now, it’s our only option. We both know I couldn’t refuse Razel. If anything, it’ll buy us time to think of something else.”

  I bit my lip. “What if we had a crow?”

  Caliza went rigid, and I knew I’d said the wrong thing. She stood. “The crows can’
t help us, Anthia. They’re the reason we’re in this mess. We were too dependent on them, and now they’re gone.”

  “Except they’re not.” I stood too. “I found a storm crow egg.”

  Something in her expression flickered, as if considering my words, before her resolve hardened. “Even if you could hatch it, it won’t be enough. You don’t understand what we’re up against. You never have. You shirked your duties as princess even before Ronoch!”

  “And you’ve never understood the crows! You’ve always hated them, and they knew it. It’s why none of them would ever let you ride them.”

  Caliza’s face flushed, and my anger broke as understanding settled. “That’s it, isn’t it?” I asked. “Why you’re so against them?”

  She dropped back onto the bed. “I wasn’t meant to be a rider. Mother always said so.”

  “What?”

  “She told me to give up on the crows. I tried anyway, but she was right. The crows rejected me.”

  I sat beside her. “I had no idea.”

  Caliza smiled tightly. The circlet on her head sat askew, her usually immaculate hair tangled around it. Tension rippled across her skin like an earthquake. Then she straightened, letting out a single shuddering breath. “We cannot win this war with a single crow.”

  “Maybe. But we could win with a crow and Trendell’s support. And they might help us if they thought we had a chance.”

  She didn’t respond at first, fingers worrying at a few strands of hair. Her fingers were so thin, delicate, not made to grip a sword or hold fast to a saddle hundreds of feet in the air.

  “Please, Caliza. You have to trust me.” Reaching out, I took her hand in mine. Her fingers stilled. I leaned forward to meet her gaze, and swore for a fleeting second that tears threatened her eyes. Then she blinked, and the look was gone.

  “I’m so sorry.” Her words tumbled out in a torrent. “I’ve been so overwhelmed. I didn’t think there was another way—I still don’t. I mean, I don’t know if hatching the egg is possible, and I don’t know if it will help, but you’re right. If there’s even a chance, we have to take it.” Her hand tightened around mine.

  I squeezed it back. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  She smiled. “You always were the fighter. I think that’s why you were Mother’s favorite.”

  A bark of laughter escaped my lips. “If by favorite you mean least disliked, maybe, but I still think you were imagining things.”

  Her smile faded. “I miss her.”

  “I know.” I swallowed hard. “So do I.” Even if our mother hadn’t been as warmhearted and open as I would have liked, I’d still loved her. Still wanted to make her happy, to earn her respect and praise despite the distance that stretched between us.

  “In the meantime,” I said, “I’ll play nice with Ericen.”

  She eyed me. “I know it’s difficult, but we have to placate him. Particularly if we’re going to break our agreement. He can’t suspect us.”

  I nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “I’ll send a bird to Kuren about Trendell. If we had their support, a storm crow could be enough to inspire them to stand against Illucia. But without the crow, I don’t think Trendell will listen.”

  I nodded and reached for the circlet on her head, centering it.

  She gave my hand another squeeze. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

  I believed her, even as I withheld the truth: I had no idea how to hatch the egg. But I would find a way. I just needed time.

  Six

  With Caliza’s and my plan in place, I felt more confident facing Ericen. The engagement seemed less like a storm on the horizon than a single rain cloud. We would hatch the egg, gain Trendell’s support, and stand against Illucia.

  In the meantime, I’d try not to insult Ericen with every breath.

  A small army accompanied us into the city for our tour. Apparently, Ericen’s arrival had stirred several protests. A few abandoned shops had been broken into, one even burned. What would people think once the news of why he was here spread?

  With every step, my mare shifted nervously next to Ericen’s. I didn’t blame her. His horse looked like it might eat us both. The prince rode like he’d been born to it, the thwomp of his stallion’s steps drowning the soft clatter of my mount’s hooves.

  People stared as we passed, faces infused with hate. I understood. Looking at Ericen, all I could think of were burning rookery towers and the screams of crows and people, indistinguishable from one another in the night. But bitterness lurked beneath the hatred of some, and it wasn’t for him.

  I gestured to our right. “We’ll go into the Thereal Wing first.”

  “The wings are named after each of your Saints, aren’t they? And they correspond with a type of crow?” Ericen asked. “So this would be the wind crows?”

  Fire hurtled through my veins, but when I shot Ericen a sharp glare, the anger vanished abruptly. He wasn’t looking at me, and his normally cool expression had warmed into a look of curiosity, until he caught my gaze. The look of interest disappeared, replaced by a slight sneer.

  I scowled. “Yes.”

  We followed a broad street that circled the castle and cut through each wing, forming a circle around the inner city. In the fading chill of morning, street performers gathered in the shade of side streets. Shops set in bright, colorful buildings propped open doors, and the soft hum of a violin resonated through the air as a musician tested the strings.

  The Thereal Wing was known for entertainment. That hadn’t changed, but a subdued atmosphere hung over the usually lively wing. The street no longer teemed with visitors, and the echoes of distant music sounded like a melody of pain and sadness.

  Ericen scanned everything with an imperious look, his back straight, head held high, exuding a confidence and strength I longed for. As he slowed to behold a gymnast warming up, I caught sight of a familiar blue building at the street corner.

  I urged my horse toward it subconsciously, staring but not seeing. Memories flashed: sneaking out with Kiva to go dancing, music as quick as a heartbeat after a flight, a crow painted in sunset colors across the building’s side…columns of fire, smoke choking the air, the screech of crows and screams of people.

  I slowed my horse outside Rua’s. The door to the pub was chained shut, the windows boarded. Thick vines obscured the crow painting, its vibrant colors muted.

  Already, the hope I’d felt setting out dwindled away. Each boarded-up window and crumbling building I saw leeched more of my strength. I braced my hands on the back of my saddle, shoulders curving, head bowed.

  Aris had been a city of wonders. A place people came to from all over the world to trade, to learn, to live. Now it was slowly fading, drifting into nothing like an abandoned ship into the night.

  In the distance, what remained of the Thereal rookery loomed like a pillar of shadows.

  “Why don’t you knock that down? It’s useless now.”

  My spine went rigid, and I turned to look at Ericen. He stared at the remains of the rookery with a critical frown. When I didn’t respond, he glanced at me.

  Every muscle turned to stone. “Say something like that again and I’ll—”

  “What?” he asked. “What will you do, Princess? Yell? Curse? Hurt me?” He laughed, and the sound ripped into my chest like talons. “If you so much as touch me, if you push me too far, I’ll end this engagement and Rhodaire’s future along with it.” His eyes glinted like sunlight against the tundra. “Give me a reason.”

  My words turned to ash in my throat, smothering my breath. Fire and frost danced along my skin like the waves of a fever as I fought to move, to think, to breathe. But all I could picture was the army on our border, the rows and rows of cavalry and archers who would kill without thought or mercy.

  Ericen shook his head pityingly. “What am I saying? This is the
girl who’s been hiding in her room for months. You’re not going to do anything, are you? Cowards never do.” His gaze flicked over me again before he kicked his horse into a trot down the street.

  A heartbeat. Two. Still, I couldn’t follow.

  Coward.

  I’d leave him lost in the streets, spook his horse into throwing him off, lead him down a dark alley and—No. He was right. I couldn’t do so much as scratch him, or he might end everything. Somehow, I had to stay calm, had to keep from letting him push me off the edge.

  Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, I urged my horse onward.

  We passed through the Kerova Wing, once home to the shadow crows. The clatter of our horse’s hooves echoed like an unanswered call, the hot air still and thick with humidity, making me long for the mist water crows used to trail in their wakes as they soared overhead.

  “There’s not much to see here,” Ericen said. His rough voice stuck out like a dove among crows.

  “Then let’s move on.” While Ericen saw nothing, my eyes found only shuttered windows and smoke-stained walls, all blurring with memories of a night filled with fire and blood.

  We went through the Turren Wing next, once home to the battle crows. Smiths called prices above the din of hammers and conversation, standing behind tables laden with weapons or in open doorways to larger storerooms. Thick heat wafted from outdoor forges, now small and hand-fed. There’d been a time when the Turren smiths shared the heat and power of the central forge, a massive structure at the heart of the wing that had fed countless other forges. Without fire crows to keep it blazing, it now lay cold and dormant.

  Ash smudged the stone and brick buildings, sparks crackling like snapping bone. I stuck to the center of the broad streets, well away from any flames, and focused on my breathing. We still had over half the tour to go; I couldn’t lose it now.

  Ericen cast a disdainful look down at the beggars lining the streets. Half the shops were closed, many sellers ousted to small tables along the main road without enough money for rent. He had no idea what these people had once done, the magic they’d once created.