Flight of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  The fire popped and crackled in the fireplace.

  Love her.

  Damien heard the words as clearly as if they had been spoken in his ear.

  Love her.

  Could he do that? Could he learn to love Selene, even if she never returned his love?

  12

  Amara sucked in a breath as she emerged from the old gardener’s mind. Petur groaned and turned on his side, curling his legs up to his chest. Pale moonlight shone through the small window, leaving a square of light across the ground. She clenched her hand into a fist and punched her thigh. Why couldn’t she do it? Why couldn’t she change the dreamscape?

  Her mother emerged moments later, and Amara could feel the heat of her anger. She stood to her feet and glared down at Amara. “Come, Amara. Morning is almost here.”

  “Yes, Mother.” She stood and followed her mother outside of the small hovel and across the servants’ quarters. She clenched her hands again, so hard that her nails dug into her palms. What did Selene have that she did not? She worked harder and wanted this more—much more than Selene ever did. And yet her elder sister was the gifted one.

  And then she threw it all away when she left with the grand lord of House Maris. Amara clenched her hand. Why?

  Her mother led the way back into Rook Castle, moving along the corridors like an apparition. When they reached the west wing, she stopped.

  “You will continue your physical training. And you will continue to dreamwalk every night. I expect to see a better performance than I saw tonight in two weeks from now. You will prove to me why you deserve to inherit the mantle of House Ravenwood. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mother.” Amara carefully concealed her features, but inside she burned.

  Her mother turned and left without a word, leaving Amara standing in the middle of the dark and silent hallway.

  A lump filled her throat as her shoulders sagged. Was it like this with Selene? Mother pressuring her to achieve more and more with their gift? Amara snorted and headed for the secret training room below the castle. Probably not. Everything always came easily to Selene. She was able to dreamwalk the first time flawlessly, and she still had Mother’s respect, even after leaving in disgrace.

  She slipped into the sitting room and headed for the fireplace. She placed her fingers in the three small indents beside the stone mantel, twisted her hand clockwise, and listened to the gears deep within the wall as the hidden door opened.

  Like a cat, she slid into the narrow passageway and closed the door behind her. Pitch-black pervaded her senses, but she was used to it. With practiced hands, she lit the first torch, then used it to light the other torches along her way.

  As she headed into the bowels of the castle, her mind churned with questions. With everything at her fingertips, why did Selene run away? Did she secretly love Lord Damien? Perhaps. She had seen the way her sister’s face had changed when she looked at him. But the cold, calculating sister she knew would not simply throw everything away for an infatuation. There had to be something more that had caused Selene to make such a drastic decision.

  But what? And why?

  “And why do I care?” She seethed as she entered the training cavern. She finished lighting the room, then placed the torch in one of the brackets. Her sword sat on the table, next to an array of weapons. Noticeably empty on the table was the place where Selene’s twin blades used to lie.

  Amara harrumphed as she grabbed her own sword and went for the dummy. Whatever the reason, Selene was now gone, allowing her to gain Mother’s favor.

  I will become the heir to Ravenwood.

  Whack.

  I will learn to control my dreamwalking and become stronger.

  Whack.

  And I will take Selene’s place in Mother’s eyes.

  Amara attacked the dummy with her single blade, dancing in and out, swinging her blade and slicing into the dummy until an hour later only straw, shreds of cloth, and the wooden skeleton was left.

  She wiped her brow and let her sword hang down at her side. She would have to drag another dummy down here, but it was worth the effort. Already she felt much better. She walked over to the table and placed her sword down. She had enough time to quickly bathe in one of the hot springs and visit her little sister, Opheliana, before resting until later this evening and dreamwalking again.

  That was another benefit to Selene’s absence: she had Opheliana all to herself.

  Amara stepped into the nursery. She breathed in the scent of lilac and smiled, remembering her own childhood. Opheliana must have recently finished bathing.

  “Opheliana,” Amara said quietly as she stepped into the room. She shut the door behind her and walked across the crimson rug that lay across the stone floor. A cozy fire burned in the fireplace, and a handful of wooden toys sat on the round table in the corner.

  A voice hummed from the other room, out of tune, but comforting just the same. Amara peeked into the bedroom. Maura, the nursemaid, stood by the wardrobe to the right, her back to Amara, as she folded clothes and placed them inside. The two beds on either side were made, thick furs placed on top to ward off the coming winter chill.

  The metal bath was still in the room, though no steamy wisps emerged from the opaque surface. The smell of lilac hung heavier in here.

  Movement to her left caught her eye. Amara turned and spotted Opheliana standing on a stool next to the narrow window, her face pressed against the glass as she stared out across the rocky mountain expanse.

  Another smile spread across Amara’s face, and the tension and frustration from last night ebbed away. “Opheli—”

  She snapped her lips shut, and her eyes went wide. Opheliana stood on her tiptoes, her blue dress rising above her bare feet, exposing her ankles. Her sister must not have heard her because her back remained to Amara, allowing her full view of the mark just below the hem of her dress.

  It can’t be.

  Amara silently entered the room, her eyes pinned to the reddish mark above Opheliana’s ankle. Her heart raced, leaving her breathless. It can’t be, it can’t be!

  But there was no denying the flaming birthmark on Opheliana’s ankle.

  The mark of House Friere.

  There was a gasp behind her. “Lady Amara, I didn’t hear you enter.”

  Amara spun around, anger replacing the shock from moments before. “What is the meaning of this?” she shouted and pointed at Opheliana.

  “What do you mean, your ladyship?” Maura slowly edged around the room, putting herself between Amara and Opheliana.

  Opheliana turned around on the stool and stared at Amara with her head cocked to the side.

  “That mark on my sister’s ankle!”

  Maura’s face paled as she sidestepped over to Opheliana and used her body to shield the little girl, which only made Amara angrier. What did the nursemaid think she was going to do? Hurt her little sister? “Explain, Maura.”

  The nursemaid’s lip began to tremble. “Please, my lady. No one was supposed to know—”

  “Know what?”

  Maura tugged on the apron around her waist. “If I tell you, she’ll kill me.”

  Amara folded her arms and held tight to her elbows, her nostrils flaring. “Who, my mother?”

  Maura nodded her head, her eyes so wide the whites showed.

  “I won’t tell her. But I do want an answer. Why does my sister have the mark of House Friere?”

  Maura looked down and let go of the apron, wringing her hands instead.

  Amara clenched her teeth. “If you don’t tell me, then I will go to my mother.”

  Maura’s hands worked faster. “Lady Opheliana is part of House Ravenwood . . . and House Friere.” Her last words were so quiet Amara barely caught them.

  She let out her breath in one quick whoosh. “How is that possible?”

  Maura shook her head, keeping her eyes down. Opheliana stepped down from the stool and came to stand beside Maura.

  Amara narrowed her eyes as
she stared at her little sister, taking in every feature. Opheliana had the same dark hair as her mother and Selene, with a red tint to the curls. But on closer look, her eyes resembled Lord Ivulf’s shape and amber color, and her lips were thin, like Lord Raoul’s.

  Dart’an! How could her mother . . . ?

  Amara spun around, still gripping her elbows. The longer she thought about it, the more it made sense. All the trips to Ironmond. The close relationship between Ravenwood and Friere, particularly between Mother and Lord Ivulf. The hints dropped by Lord Raoul.

  All that talk of House Ravenwood and preserving their house purity, only to have the evidence otherwise on her sister’s ankle. A person could possess only one house gift, and apparently the mark of House Friere had been passed on to her sister. What did that mean for Opheliana? Was that why her mother kept her little sister cloistered away like an invalid?

  A hand tugged on her dress. Amara looked over to find Opheliana standing behind her. For a heartbeat, she thought her sister would finally speak. But she never opened her lips. Instead, she gazed up, her eyebrows drawn together as she tugged on the fabric again.

  In that one second, all the rage inside her fled at the look of innocence on her sister’s face.

  Amara knelt down and gathered Opheliana into her arms. Her hair and clothing smelled like lilac. Like the purity of childhood. She pressed her face into the small crook of her sister’s neck. “No, Opheliana, I’m not angry with you. I could never be angry with you.” It was not her sister’s fault that she carried the mark of Friere on her body. And if Amara was honest with herself, she didn’t care. It didn’t change how she felt about Opheliana.

  What hurt was knowing that if her mother’s indiscretion was found out, it would be Opheliana who would pay for it. Opheliana could never be an heir to House Ravenwood, not with that mark on her ankle. Would House Friere take Opheliana in if Lord Ivulf found it?

  The thought made her sick. Amara had her own ambitions, but she was not stupid. She knew Lord Raoul was an unforgiving, cruel man. And Lord Ivulf was as cold as his power was scorching. That kind of influence would break her tender little sister. So would their mother’s.

  Amara looked up and scowled, ignoring Maura. No, no one would find out. She would make sure of it. She would do as her mother wished. She would work hard, harder than any other Ravenwood woman had before her, and she would become heir to House Ravenwood and the grand lady of the mountain people. Then Opheliana could remain as she was, an innocent little girl, and live in Rook Castle forever.

  Yes, she would protect her sister. At all costs.

  13

  Selene’s nightmares were different that night. Instead of visions of past dreamscapes, her dreams were her own. She clutched the coverlet to her chest as the sun rose outside her window, her body tense, her chest aching.

  Over and over she heard Damien’s words inside her ears.

  I never wanted to marry you. I only married you to save myself.

  She knew it was only a nightmare. He’d never said that. But deep down, it was what she feared. That someday the truth would come out: he married her so she could never fulfill her mission. The nightmare had been so strong she was tempted to search her mind for a raven in the background, watching.

  Selene sat up and growled. “Why does it matter?” She flung the covers away and stood. House Ravenwood never married for love. That had been drilled into her, along with the importance of house loyalty, ever since she was a little girl. In some ways, she was still fulfilling her duties. By marrying Damien, she had the opportunity to search out the truth behind Ravenwood’s gift, a truth that would hopefully free her family.

  There was a knock on her door, then Essa walked in. “Good morning, my lady,” she said with a smile that looked like pure sunlight. She held a tray in her hands. On top was a mug of steaming liquid and a brown egg resting in an eggcup. She placed the tray on the table near the bed, then headed for the wardrobe. “The seamstress is almost finished with the gown you will be wearing for the announcement today,” she said as she pulled out a simple green dress with flowing sleeves. “The rest of your new attire will be ready in a couple of days.”

  Selene watched the young woman brush out the gown, then walk across the room and place the gown on the other side of the changing screen.

  “Thank you.”

  Essa smiled and bobbed her head. “My pleasure, my lady. I will be happy to do your hair once you’re dressed.”

  Selene disappeared around the screens. Essa was the complete opposite of Renata. Her hands trembled as she took off her nightgown and pulled on the dress.

  Renata.

  Selene took in a shaky breath and finished dressing. She ate the simple food, then sat down for Essa to finish the last of her grooming. As her maidservant put the finishing touches on the small braids wrapped around her head, there was a knock at the door. Selene turned back to her tea as Essa went to answer.

  “Is Lady Selene here?”

  Damien’s voice drifted into the room. Her body went rigid at the sound, her nightmares flashing once again across her mind.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Selene stood and walked toward the door. Damien looked over Essa’s shoulder and spotted her. “Lady Selene.”

  Essa backed away with a bow as Selene approached Damien, her heart thumping inside her chest. For what reason could he be here?

  “I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me. I would still like to show you my home—our home—here, in the Northern Shores.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. Oh. That was not what she was expecting. His words and the genuine earnestness on his face disarmed her a little. “I would like that.”

  If she was going to be living here for the rest of her life, she wanted to know more about this place. And she couldn’t deny how much she had longed to see the sea. She retrieved her cloak and walked out the door, leaving Essa behind to straighten up the bedroom.

  He started with a tour of Northwind Castle, pointing out paintings and sculptures along the corridors. The castle was about the same size as Rook Castle, but unlike her former home with open airways, steep ravines, and tall mountain peaks, Northwind Castle stood on the highest cliff above the city of Nor Esen, and every architectural detail was made of smooth lines and waves, almost as if the castle itself was the sea.

  “How are you finding your accommodations?” Damien asked as they started down a windowed corridor along the second floor.

  “The room is nice. And comfortable.” What more should she say? It was just a room like any other—

  Her breath hitched in her throat as she caught sight of a wide expanse of deep blue-grey. Selene stepped toward the windows, her heart held in suspension inside her chest. Even though she had seen the sea the other night outside Damien’s windows, it still left her in awe. The water appeared unending, melding into the grey sky above, with a flock of white birds soaring along the stone cliffs to the west, and tall pine trees to the east.

  As wild and free as the Magyr Mountains.

  Her heart started to beat again.

  She pressed her fingers against the glass, her eyes riveted on the scene before her.

  Damien stepped beside her. “Incredible, isn’t it?” There was pride in his low tenor voice. “Would you like to go outside and stand along the cliffs?”

  “Yes,” she answered without turning.

  “Then follow me.”

  He directed her toward the end of the corridor, where a door led to the outside ledge and cliffs that lined this side of the castle. As Selene walked beside him, she caught his scent, a strange scent, almost like the ocean itself.

  Damien opened the door, then waited as she exited the castle. A cold wind blew across the jagged stone cliffs, sending her hair flying to the side. The gap between the castle and the edge was about twenty feet, ending abruptly in a sheer drop-off with white crested waves far below. To her left, a narrow ledge jutted out over the sea like a finger pointing north.
<
br />   Her cloak fluttered behind her as Selene came to stand near the edge and looked over the sea. “It’s even bigger than I had imagined.”

  “Yes.” Damien stepped beside her, a soft smile spreading across his lips.

  “All I could picture was one of the crystal lakes in the Magyr Mountains, but this is different. It’s like a whole land unto itself, only made of water. Do you go out to sea often?”

  “Not as much as I would like. But I do have my own ship that I use to travel up and down the coast, or to the other lands. Most of the cities and villages of the Northern Shores are located near the coastline. The majority of our trade consists of fishing and transport.”

  Selene clasped her hands together as another gust of wind grabbed ahold of her cloak and sent it flying, along with her hair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the salty-sweet air. She stood there, letting the wind and the waves block out everything else.

  “I wish we had a bit longer,” Damien said eventually. “But there is some business I need to attend to before this afternoon.”

  The public announcement of their nuptials. Selene dropped her hands and opened her eyes as reality came crashing back. “I understand.” She let her mask slip back over her face. Yes, this had been a thoughtful gesture on Damien’s part. But it didn’t silence the whispers inside her mind. I only married you to save myself.

  “I’ll have Taegis escort you to the throne room when it’s time.”

  Selene nodded without saying a word, the weight of fear latching back on to her chest.

  “Selene?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you nervous?”

  Selene glanced over at him. “I was raised knowing I would marry someday out of duty. Our marriage . . . it’s not what I was expecting.”

  He nodded and glanced at the sea in thought. “It’s not what I was expecting either.”

  At least they were being honest with each other.

  “It will take time for us to adjust and get to know each other.” He turned back toward her. “I promise I will give you all the time and space you need.”