Flight of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  Selene froze, the book between her fingers. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because it was during the Dominia’s first razing that House Ravenwood was wiped out and the gift of dreaming thought gone.”

  Selene looked as if she wanted to flee. But then her face changed. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “Are you asking me about House Ravenwood’s gift? And why we still have it?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked around as if confirming the absence of others, then heaved a sigh and sat back down on the bench built into the alcove. She placed the book on the cushion next to her before starting. “You may not like what you hear. But I cannot keep it from you forever. After all, our lives are now linked together.”

  Damien sat down on the other side of the bench and leaned forward, his elbows across his knees. “I promise to listen.”

  Selene glanced at him, then proceeded. “As you are aware, House Ravenwood was not completely destroyed during the first razing by the Dominia Empire. My ancestor Rabanna Ravenwood was taken back to the empire as a little girl. From what I know, the empire only saw her as spoils of war, never realizing that instead of a servant, they had taken the last daughter of Ravenwood. Rabanna grew up on the other side of the wall, as a slave within the empire’s palace. When she came into her gift, she began to practice dreamwalking, honing it until there came a day she was able to use it to escape the empire and make her way back to our lands.”

  “How?” Damien asked.

  “You’ll see.” Selene held her arms across her stomach as if in pain.

  Damien frowned and nodded for her to continue.

  She looked out the window. “She was able to find passage on a boat back to our lands. Once here, Rabanna traveled to the Magyr Mountains and Rook Castle, entering into the good graces of House Remyr, the lesser house that took over as House Ravenwood after the razing. She eventually married the grand lord, raised two daughters, and taught them how to use the Ravenwood gift of dreamwalking. Her husband was bound to house secrecy, and so it has been ever since. Every Lady Ravenwood passes on the gift of dreamwalking to the next generation of daughters, who then marry and bind their husbands to secrecy. Only the head of House Ravenwood can free them from this secret. That is how we have kept our gift hidden for all of these years.”

  “But why? Was your family afraid they would not be welcomed?”

  Selene glanced back with such sadness and weight in her eyes that Damien was thrown off guard. “Naturally it would be difficult to trust those who allowed your house to be sacrificed. But there is more. The women of my family found a better purpose for our gift, one that brought power and gold to House Ravenwood, and ensured that our house would never fall again.”

  The hairs along his arms and neck rose. “What was that purpose?” he said quietly.

  “We use our gift to kill through dreams.”

  Silence filled the library. The tingling along his neck and arms expanded across his entire body, sending a shiver up his spine as his mind tried to comprehend Selene’s words. The Ravenwood gift of dreaming . . . had been turned to killing?

  Assassinations . . . random deaths over the years . . . the rise of House Ravenwood . . . Caiaphas’s veiled hints . . .

  “Is that how your ancestor Rabanna was able to escape the empire? By . . . by . . .”

  “By killing? Yes.”

  Damien swallowed. “And when you say power and gold, you mean . . .”

  She curled her lip. “There is a lot of money to be made in secrets and assassinations. Enough to help our people when the mines dried up.”

  “Secrets?”

  Her eyes grew hard. “Dreamwalking allows us to reach inside a person’s mind and memories. Powerful people are willing to pay a great deal of money for that kind of information.”

  “I see.” Damien’s mind was spinning. Not only could House Ravenwood enter a person’s dreams, they could see the person’s thoughts—or kill them. Their gift could well be one of the most powerful ones amongst the Great Houses. And no one knew. Except Caiaphas and now himself, and whomever else Lady Ragna might have told.

  Selene let out a sorrowful laugh and tugged at the corner of her sleeve. “Now you know our secret.”

  He looked up. “So that night, when I found you beside my bed, you were there to kill me. Not with your swords, but with . . .” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

  “Yes. I was there to assassinate you. Inside your dreams.” Her voice was cold and quiet.

  Dear Light! Damien held his head in his hands. Their bonding had only revealed that she could dreamwalk, not what House Ravenwood had done with that gift. This was not at all what he had been expecting when he asked her about her gift. How should he respond? What should he do? None of the other houses were so malevolent and vile as what Selene had revealed about Ravenwood—not even House Friere, for all of its pride and aggravating ways. To use one’s house gift in such a way went against the whole reason the Light gave the seven houses such gifts! It was perverted. It was wrong.

  Selene must have seen the shock and disgust on his face because she suddenly stood. “I’m sure you have a lot to think about,” she said in a low tone. “After all, not only did you end up marrying a woman you do not love, you married a murderess.”

  His head shot up. “You’ve used your gift to kill?”

  “No, but I might as well have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her nostrils flared, and her hands tightened into two fists. “I—” She looked away. “I shattered a young woman’s mind during a dreamwalk. She cannot move, she cannot speak. She lies in bed all day, staring at the ceiling. She’s as good as dead. And there is no way to undo what I did.” Her voice cracked. “So there you are. Behold, the gift of the Dreamers.” Before Damien could say another word, Selene spun around and left.

  Damien stared at the empty space where Selene had been standing moments ago, her words replaying inside his mind like a song in minor tones. House Ravenwood killed with their gift. And had kept it a secret for hundreds of years.

  He pressed a fist to his mouth. How many had they killed? How many secrets had they uncovered? He thought back to those nights when he held Selene’s hand. What exactly was she doing? Searching his mind? Using her gift to uncover every covert part of his being? Not that he had that many secrets, but still.

  He dropped his hand and frowned. However, there was something missing from Selene’s explanation. Something she failed to mention. Something he remembered from that night when they escaped from Rook Castle.

  “I couldn’t do it.”

  Those were her words.

  She had been sent to kill him, and she couldn’t. Did that mean that she had been unable to do any of the other things she just shared?

  He looked out the window and swallowed.

  Selene had woken him up that night and told him he wasn’t safe. She’d risked her life to lead him and his men to the borders of his land, knowing that she was forfeiting her life in doing so. And she’d saved his life on Trader’s Road when she fought off those bandits.

  So who was Selene really? The one he had witnessed for himself or the one she had painted during her confession? Yes, she had admitted she shattered a person’s mind, but the way she said it reeked of guilt and shame, not pride. It was almost as if she had used that memory as a shield to keep him away.

  Damien stood. He needed time to sift through what Selene had shared. There were considerations to be made, the foremost being if his people were safe. He ran a hand through his hair. Had he been wrong to bring a member of House Ravenwood back to the Northern Shores?

  And what did this mean for his marriage?

  15

  Why had she shared her past with Damien? Selene hit the wall with her fist, then slid to the floor of her bedroom and held her head between her hands. No more secrets. No more hiding behind the veneer of a noble lady. The mask was off. She was a wicked woman, and now he knew.

&n
bsp; A burning bubble of bile rose up her throat, threatening to expel the little food she had eaten that morning. She bit her lip and forced the burning sensation back down. At least she could live with herself. It was too much to carry a lie and wear a mask at the same time. Now she was free to carry only one. The mask could stay in place, but as a way to keep people at arm’s length, not to hide the truth. Damien knew everything now. It was too bad he didn’t know before he married her.

  Selene slowly stood, her body tense and her eyes on the verge of tears. She balled her hands into tight fists. No, no crying. What she needed was exercise. If only she had her dual swords with her and a place to let out all these pent-up emotions. Exercise always had a way of siphoning off restless energy.

  She turned and opened the door. The hallway was dark and silent. Her mind churned. Perhaps she could have new swords forged. And in the meantime, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to learn a new skill, like how to use a single sword. It might save her in the future, should she find herself in another fight without her own weapons.

  She closed the door behind her. Dark feelings still simmered inside of her, but she had a mission now, and it allowed her to suppress her feelings. She headed for the training room she had spotted the other day. Hopefully she would run into someone she knew, like Taegis. He might be willing to help her out.

  A shadow fell into step behind her. Selene glanced back and found Karl a couple of feet away. She frowned. When had he returned?

  At her look, he bowed, his face holding just a hint of contempt.

  She turned around and continued along the hall. Her annoyance at the guard grew with each step. She could almost feel his disdainful stare as she moved across the castle. He still did not approve of her marriage to Lord Maris. Then again, perhaps he was right.

  Selene gritted her teeth. Well, no changing that now.

  She politely nodded to those she passed, barely aware of the servants’ stares and bows. She stopped at a familiar door. This looked like the right place. She opened it and found a handful of guards across the room, practicing with wooden swords or engaging in hand-to-hand combat.

  “My lady?” said a voice to her left.

  Selene spotted Taegis standing near a long table covered with a variety of training weapons. He wiped his hands on a rag and left it on the table as he made his way over to her. “Do you need something?”

  “Yes. That is . . .” Why was her face heating up? She straightened her shoulders and pushed on. “Where would I inquire about having a special sword forged?”

  Taegis frowned. “I don’t understand. . . .”

  “I don’t want to lose the skills I’ve acquired over the years. And—” she swallowed—“it would help me to have something to do. I am unfamiliar with other ladylike habits such as painting or weaving.” It was hard to admit that she was a failure when it came to being a proper lady. None of that would have mattered if she had taken her place as Grand Lady Ravenwood, married a lesser lord, and remained as head of her house. There, she would have had the luxury and freedom to train below Rook Castle and rule her castle as she saw fit.

  “Hmm. Lord Damien left not too long ago to talk to you about possibly sparring.”

  It was her turn to frown. “What?”

  “Did he not find you?”

  Selene pressed two fingers to her forehead and turned away. Was that why he had sought her out in the library? But then why had he asked her about her book and subsequently her gift?

  “My lady, are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes. I just . . . Yes, Lord Damien found me. But sparring was never brought up.”

  “Odd,” Taegis said behind her. “Well, in answer to your question, yes. The weaponsmith will need to speak to you. He will need details about your previous swords. Come, I will take you to him.”

  “Thank you,” Selene breathed as Taegis came around her and opened the door.

  “Sir,” Karl said, his posture rigid and upright.

  “Karl, I will be accompanying Lady Selene. Go ahead and take your midday meal.”

  “Thank you.” He bowed toward Selene. “My lady.”

  “Karl,” Selene acknowledged.

  The dark-haired guard turned and left.

  “This way, my lady.”

  They followed another hall along the second floor lined with windows that overlooked the sea.

  Selene slowed as she passed by a set of windows. She knew this place. It was the same corridor where Damien had taken her days before.

  She glanced out one of the tall windows. White-capped waves rolled in from beyond, crashing along the cliffs below. The sky was a dull grey, painting the water below the same color. The cliffs were bare, with only wisps of yellow grass and rugged stone—

  She came to a stop. There, along the narrow precipice that jutted beyond the rest of the cliffs, stood a lone figure.

  A man stood on the edge, moving his arms in front of him, his knees bent, his back straight. The wind pulled and tugged on the cloak whipping around his body. He raised his hands up to chin level, palms up, sending the cloak flying to his right side like a banner, leaving his light tunic exposed. The wind pressed his clothing against his body, and she could almost see the contours of the muscles along his back move in conjunction with his arms. A spray of water shot past the edge of the cliff, washing over him. Whoever he was, he was in excellent physical condition—and had to be cold.

  “Who is that? And what is he doing?”

  Taegis paused and looked out. “It’s his lordship.”

  “Lord Damien?” Selene glanced back. Yes, she could see that now: the hair, the height, the body build. She held her breath, mesmerized as another wave crashed up over the edge of the cliff, sending a wall of seawater up into the air in front of him. A tingling sensation spread up from her back to her neck and face.

  A smile touched on the older man’s lips. “It has been a while since Lord Damien raised the waters. Members of House Maris have stood on that cliff for hundreds of years, practicing their gift of raising the waters and communing with the Light.”

  “The Light?”

  “Yes. This is Lord Damien’s time when he intercedes for his people and offers his gift up to the Light.”

  What a lovely concept. “Like worship,” Selene murmured.

  “Yes.”

  So different from the cold sanctuary and solemn words spoken during the new moon service to the Dark Lady. Selene closed her eyes, but she could not erase the image of Damien standing on the cliff, his body moving in perfect harmony with the water and the waves in supplication to the Light. Just the way she imagined a man with a soul like his would.

  So unlike herself.

  She opened her eyes and clutched the front of her dress, remembering their conversation from this morning. What did he think of her now? Disgust? Revulsion? Her cheeks burned at the thought.

  “Lord Damien, like his father before him, is a follower of the Old Ways. Using his gift is one way he worships the Light.”

  It took Selene a moment to realize Taegis was referring back to their conversation. She glanced back at the window. “Why does he follow the Light?”

  “Well, that’s a question you’d have to ask him. But one thing I do know: the Light gave him his gift, and so he offers it back to the Light.”

  Was it possible the Light also gave her the gift of dreamwalking? Was there a way to find out? It couldn’t be as simple as asking. Or was it? After all, her mother communed with the Dark Lady. Perhaps the Light was like the Dark Lady, a being of higher power. But the Dark Lady only spoke to the priest and her mother. How did one speak to the Light? And would he even speak back to her? She was nothing like Damien.

  “My lady?”

  Selene blinked, bringing her mind back. Damien still stood on the cliff outside, his legs spread front and back, his hands high. White spray flew up across his boots. He looked like a grand lord of House Maris, standing there with his arms raised and waves bursting across the cliff’s edge, his musc
les bulging at the effort.

  A strange heat filled her belly.

  Selene turned away from the window and swallowed.

  “Are you ready, my lady?”

  “Yes. Please lead on, Taegis.”

  He nodded and started down the hallway, Selene close behind.

  That night Selene lay curled up on her side and stared at the door that led into Damien’s room. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still see him standing on the cliff, raising the water with movements that looked almost like a dance as seawater sprayed up around him.

  It was beautiful. So achingly beautiful.

  Did the other houses use their gifts in similar ways? She could imagine House Luceras, with their gift of light, worshiping the Light with their power. And House Vivek filling books with the wisdom granted to them. Even House Friere could use their gift of fire and earth to make items of worship.

  But what place was there for a dreamwalker? What purpose was there in visiting a single mind? Yes, she had been able to soothe Damien when nightmares had invaded his feverish mind. But that was only one person. And it wasn’t that amazing.

  She rolled over and sighed. Perhaps the only true power of a dreamwalker was in secrets and death. If it was true that the Light gave the Great Houses their gifts, then what purpose was there in hers?

  Selene curled up into a tight ball, pulled the covers up close to her neck, and squeezed her eyes shut. A sudden burning desire filled her chest, a desire to speak to the Light. To ask him or it or whatever this being was about her gift. But how?

  Wait. Cohen was a monk. Was it possible he could intercede on her behalf? Or maybe Damien could as well.

  But then she remembered the shock on Damien’s face in the library. No, not him. She would go to Cohen instead. But how to find the abbey where Cohen lived . . . ?

  Sleep crept across her eyes until darkness took hold.

  She moved in and out of dreams, soaring along the dreamscape, visiting cities and places she had never been before until she found herself in an empty hallway of Northwind Castle. Moonlight streamed through the windows, casting the corridor in shadows and pale light.