Flight of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  A dark look came over Lady Ragna’s face, a look Amara was only too familiar with. The man—whoever he was—was treading on thin ice with her mother.

  “Now, I must report back to my master.” The man bowed, almost mockingly, then turned and left through the side door.

  Amara crossed her arms and watched him go. Her mother watched him as well, eyes blazing.

  After he left, silence fell across the chamber. Amara waited until her mother turned back toward her. She wanted to ask who he was and why he had mentioned Commander Orion. There was only one man with that name. The head of the Dominia imperial forces.

  Her mother continued to stand there as if made of stone, like one of the ravens carved into the throne. Amara waited, barely breathing, giving her mother time to gain her composure and thoughts instead of lashing out.

  “It is time to meet with the other houses.” Her mother’s words and movement were abrupt, as if she had just emerged from a trance. “Come, Amara.”

  Amara waited for her mother to descend from the platform, then followed slightly behind her.

  “You will tell no one what you heard. I will explain later.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “And you will let me know the moment you feel your gifting coming on, do you hear? We have much work ahead of us. The absence of your sister has made our work even more difficult than before.”

  Amara raised one eyebrow. Even now Mother couldn’t seem to say what really happened: Selene had betrayed them and run away.

  They left the audience chamber and made their way through Rook Castle toward the meeting room. “You will not say anything to the other houses. You will not speak to them. You are simply here to represent House Ravenwood and to show your support during this crisis.”

  “Yes, Mother.” She was curious as to how her mother was going to explain Selene and House Maris’s absence, and the death of Lord Rune and Lady Runa Vivek. Rumors were already spreading that an agent of the empire had infiltrated their castle, but Amara had other suspicions, ones she had harbored about her family for a long time, that House Ravenwood was in the business of death.

  The two guards stationed at the door bowed to Lady Ragna and Amara as they entered the circular room. Already the other houses were gathered, sitting somberly around the table, hands folded and eyes cast downward. The silver chandelier threw candlelight across the table, while morning light filtered through the narrow windows beyond the columns.

  Upon entering, Amara stole to the right and took her place next to the wall, just inside the shadows that lined the room. There were other guards present from each of the houses, no doubt for the protection of their lords and ladies. She ignored them and watched the table.

  Lord Ivulf Friere was the first to acknowledge her mother’s presence. Then the others looked up as she came to stand beside her chair. Amara studied the other houses. She knew them by name only, having spent most of her time with Lord Raoul Friere during his stay here.

  Lady Bryren of House Merek had a scowl on her face and her arms were crossed, which only made her look even more fierce than usual. Her copper hair surrounded her face in an array of small braids and wild pieces, and her leather garb was a mix of blacks, browns, and the occasional colored skin.

  Lord Haruk Rafel appeared ancient, his emerald eyes sunken and the lines around his face more pronounced. He hid his hands in the folds of his green robes as he waited for Lady Ragna to speak.

  Lord Leo Luceras had no expression on his face. Amara took a moment to peruse the young lord’s physique, enjoying the firm, muscular lines and golden hair. He would have made an excellent match, and she wouldn’t have minded being lady of such a prestigious house, but after watching him for the last fortnight, she was sure his heart belonged to Lady Ayaka Rafel. The only question was if her father, Lord Haruk, knew.

  The three remaining chairs were conspicuously empty, and everyone’s eyes seemed to be avoiding them.

  Lady Ragna glanced around the room a second time before she began. “Fellow grand lords and ladies. We have all been shaken by the events of the last few days. Murder and betrayal of the highest degree have been committed. I assure you my men are doing everything they can to discover what exactly has happened and to catch those involved—”

  “What do you know?” Lady Bryren asked, interrupting Lady Ragna.

  Lady Ragna set her gaze on Lady Bryren, who stared back with the same intensity. Amara couldn’t help but admire the wyvern lady in that moment for not being intimidated by her mother. Very few could look Lady Ragna in the eye and not flinch.

  “Lady Rune and Runa were found dead in their beds,” her mother said smoothly. “And Lord Maris is missing, along with my own daughter, Lady Selene. We believe the empire has something to do with—”

  “By what evidence?” Lady Bryren asked.

  “Pardon me?”

  “What evidence do you have that it was the empire?”

  “Come now, Lady Bryren, you must have realized that a meeting such as this assembly would have attracted assassins from the empire.”

  “But you said the empire was not a threat.”

  “Our assembly made us a threat. I see this as a warning from the Dominia Empire to leave things as they are.”

  “Or it’s their announcement that they plan to take out our houses one by one. That leads me to the next question. How would an assassin or assassins enter Rook Castle? How easy was it for the empire to enter this place?” Lady Bryren uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. “Or was it the empire at all?”

  Lady Ragna narrowed her eyes. “What are you implying?”

  “That there could be more going on than we know. I think the empire is here, now, amongst us.”

  “That would support my assassins theory,” Lady Ragna said.

  “Or the empire has allies in these lands.”

  Lord Ivulf spoke up, his voice rumbling. “Lady Bryren, are you saying that there are traitors here in this room?”

  Lord Haruk looked up. “That is a grave accusation, Lady Bryren.”

  All heads turned toward Lord Haruk in surprise. Amara took it to mean the lord of the House of Healing rarely spoke. He seemed more attuned to listening and waiting.

  “Yes, it is. But we must consider all possibilities.”

  “Yes, we should,” Lady Ragna said. “And with House Maris gone, I can’t help but wonder what Lord Damien’s part is in all of this.”

  “Are you saying House Maris is a traitor? I find that hard to believe,” Lady Bryren scoffed. “Perhaps he is dead as well and we haven’t found his body yet.”

  “That is a possibility. But if he left, leaving in the middle of the night is suspicious.”

  “Maybe he had a good reason. Like running for his life.”

  Lady Ragna arched an eyebrow. “Or escaping before he was caught.”

  Amara listened as the conversation between the lords and ladies became more heated. What a fractious group. The assembly was to bring unity, but it seemed to be doing the opposite. Was that Mother’s intention? Amara narrowed her eyes as the stranger’s words rang in her ears. “Commander Orion is counting on you.”

  Amara stared at her mother as angry voices echoed across the chamber, everything falling into place. Yes, the empire was behind the assassinations. Yes, there was a traitor in their midst.

  It was their house.

  And her mother was pulling all the strings.

  But who killed Lord Rune and Lady Runa Vivek? Her mother or Selene? Was that why Selene ran? So she wouldn’t be caught? But Mother would have covered for her, much how she was covering their house now and diverting suspicions elsewhere. And what about House Maris? What part did they play in this? She couldn’t imagine Lord Damien was in league with her mother. Perhaps he found out and Mother threatened him, so he ran? But he didn’t seem like the kind to run. Lord Damien wasn’t her type, but Amara had admired his strength of character.

  No, there was something else in play.

  Amara
watched with morbid fascination as the room erupted into shouts and accusations. Yes, her mother was like a black widow, tugging at the strands of a web she had woven around the Assembly of the Great Houses. Every time Lady Bryren brought up a point, her mother or Lord Ivulf would counter.

  Amara leaned against the wall. She would have to be careful. In some ways, she was a naïve fly who, if she wasn’t wary, could get caught in the middle along with everyone else.

  Better to watch and wait. The answers would come. And if she played this right—showed she could be trusted, unlike Selene, and grew into her own gifting—she could become the very person she longed to be: heir of House Ravenwood.

  That’s all she cared about.

  4

  Selene guided her horse behind Taegis and Karl as they left the small village of Riveram. Cohen followed nearby, alongside Damien, with Sten bringing up the rear. Wispy clouds spread across the sky overhead, and a cool breeze blew between the colorful autumn trees that lined Trader’s Road. Insects chirruped within the forest, and here and there a bird would let out a song. The air smelled sweet and earthy, so different than the cool mountain scent she was used to.

  The restful stillness of the forest did nothing to help her stay awake. With each passing moment, Selene’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Her body longed to sleep like someone parched longed for water.

  They stopped midday to rest and eat the bread and cheese the people of Riveram had provided. Selene had just closed her eyes when Taegis announced it was time to go. So back on her horse she went, her tired body now sore from riding.

  They rode all afternoon, the scenery never changing. Selene held her cloak close to her body as evening brought a cold wind with it. The sky darkened above. She watched Taegis, waiting for him to announce it was time to stop, while calculating how soon she could call it a night and fall asleep.

  When it became too dark to see, Taegis held up his hand. “We’ll camp here for the night.” He pointed toward a small break in the trees to the right.

  Selene slid off her horse before anyone could assist her. Every heartbeat was heavy inside her chest, and her body ached. But she couldn’t rest, not yet. She would not be idle while the men took care of the horses and set up camp.

  A half hour later, a fire was burning in the middle of the clearing, the horses were munching on the grass along the perimeter, and Sten was passing around dried meat and small brown loaves of bread.

  Selene chewed on the meat and watched the fire from a distant log, while the men sat around the fire and ate. She looked up. Only stars shone on the night of this new moon. Tomorrow the disciples of the Dark Lady would meet in the sanctuary, as they did the morning of every new moon.

  Selene placed her bread aside and pulled her cloak close to her body. Thanks to Damien’s water barrier, her mother could not follow her here to the Northern Shores. But the Dark Lady surely could.

  “Not hungry?”

  Selene glanced over to find Damien watching her.

  “I’m more tired than hungry.” She picked up the bread and held it out. “Here. Perhaps someone else has need of it.”

  He took it, a concerned look on his face, and walked toward the supplies. A moment later, he returned with a woolen blanket in hand and held it out to her. “Feel free to go to sleep whenever you like.”

  The way he looked at her, and his thoughtful gesture, touched something inside of her. “Thank you.”

  After he went back to the fire, Selene rolled the blanket out, lay down on top, and pulled half of it over her. Her whole body sighed with relief and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

  Images sped across her mind: a spilled jug of water and a flying fist; a wracking cough from the bed in a corner; staring down at gnarled, lonely hands. And a dark figure, like a shadow, hovering in the background of each dream.

  Selene turned toward the figure, but it disappeared in a gust of smoke, only to appear again in the corner of her eye. Always there, waiting. Watching her.

  The dream changed. Selene stood on a high cliff within the Magyr Mountains. The sun was setting, a deep ball of red across the mountain horizon. Bitter cold wind sliced through her clothing. She looked down. Her toes were lined up with the stony edge, and past the rim, hundreds of feet below, were jagged rocks and pine trees. Everything inside of her urged her to take that one last step.

  Take it. Take it and end the heartache inside. . . .

  Selene gasped and her eyes flew open. It took her a moment to realize she was no longer in the dreamscape. She stared up at the sky and clutched the wool blanket between her fingers. The cool night air froze her face as her heart thrummed inside her chest. Nearby, the fire had burned down to coals. Four figures lay around the campsite, and a fifth—Karl, perhaps—sat in the shadows, watching.

  More nightmares. Dreamscapes she had visited while training, the fears and secrets of the servants of Rook Castle. But now there was a shadow in the background, a figure draped in black, watching her.

  Why? Her face scrunched up, and she pressed her lips together. Was the Dark Lady punishing her for forsaking House Ravenwood?

  But I left for the sake of our house. The cycle of hatred and murder needs to be broken. We can’t keep going on like this.

  Selene squeezed her eyes shut. Apart from her rapidly beating heart, her chest felt hollow. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes burned with tears. I just want to sleep. Just one night of peace.

  But no peace came.

  Every time she started to drift off, the dreams and the shadow returned. The wolves from Hagatha’s memories and the fire from Petur’s. Each dream she had ever entered.

  A half hour later, she rolled onto her side. The hard ground made her hip ache, so she rolled onto her other side. A rock jabbed into her thigh and the cold air seeped down her neck.

  A couple of feet away, the man closest to her breathed softly in slumber. Damien.

  He lay on his side, his back to her, with his arm tucked under his head. Selene stared at his back and listened to him breathe. There was something calming about his presence.

  Her eyes slowly closed. She breathed in the earthy scent of the forest, smelling hints of pine and smoke. A horse neighed, and one of the other men began to snore.

  She snuggled down again, finding the right spot on the ground where there were no rocks, and let out a long breath. She slowly drifted off. . . .

  And woke up with a start as an image of Renata’s captor stood at the edge of her mind.

  No, no, no!

  Selene rolled onto her back. “Why is this happening?” she whispered. Only the subtle sound of snoring and the soft hoot of an owl answered her. Exhausted, her body finally took over and placed her under.

  She felt like she had been a sleep for only a few moments before someone was shaking her. She opened her eyes and blinked.

  Damien bent over her. “We leave soon.”

  Her eyes went wide, and she rolled away from his hand.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Selene lifted herself up from the ground and found herself wrapped up in the woolen blanket. “Confound it,” she said through gritted teeth as she tried to detangle herself.

  “Here, let me help.”

  Before she could refuse, Damien grabbed the corner of the blanket, freeing her.

  She crawled out beneath his arm and stood, face hot. “Thank you,” she mumbled, too embarrassed to look at him. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had startled her from sleep.

  Damien folded the blanket and put it away in one of the saddlebags. Selene massaged the side of her head where her temple throbbed. Her eyes felt even scratchier today. If only she could have slept longer. She had finally fallen into a deep slumber devoid of dreams.

  “I’ll get you something to eat.”

  Selene glanced over and nodded. As Damien headed back to the fire, she turned and went into the woods to attend to her own personal needs. It appeared it would be another nice autumn day. Selene y
awned and redid her braid. Her hair was in bad need of washing, not to mention the rest of her body and clothes.

  She paused and looked down. If there had been any illusion that she was a lady, those thoughts were dashed. Her tunic was stained, and her pants were torn along one calf. And she smelled like something that had been dragged up from a muck-filled pond. Not how most ladies appeared in the days following their wedding.

  Selene straightened up and headed back toward the camp. If Damien was expecting a lady like Lady Adalyn, then he was in for disappointment. She might not look the best, or smell the best, but she doubted any other lady had been through what she had.

  She came back to the fire. Damien handed her another small loaf of bread, while Cohen and the other men prepared for their journey. She tore off a chunk and chewed slowly as she stood along the perimeter of the camp. She stared off in the distance, her mind wandering when she felt eyes on her. She paused midchew and found Damien staring at her.

  Could he see the fatigue on her face? Or did she look as bad as she smelled?

  He never said a word. Instead, he went back to packing.

  Selene pulled her hood up over her head, her appetite gone.

  They finished cleaning and packing in a short amount of time, and before she knew it, she was back in the saddle and they were on their way. By midday, Selene could barely keep her eyes open. The cool autumn sun peeked out here and there across the trail where there were breaks within the trees. Sten and Karl rode ahead of her, while Cohen, Taegis, and Damien rode behind her.

  The mild conversation between the men and the gentle sway of her horse would lull her close to sleep, only for her to start seconds later and sit upright. At this rate, she was going to fall off her horse.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Selene flinched at the sound of Damien’s voice as he rode up beside her. Taegis wasn’t too far behind, his focus always on his liege.