Mark of the Raven

by Morgan L. Busse

  Another breath.

  Something was going on, of that she was sure. Maybe she should head out and try reentering the dreamscape.

  Selene pumped her wings and soared up away from the trees. Up and up she went. But when she reached the place where she had first entered Damien’s dreamscape, she couldn’t find the opening. In fact, it was as if she were flying in place.

  Her heart jumped into her throat, followed by bile. She looked down. Hundreds of feet below her was the same beach, the same water, and Damien’s soulsphere.

  What is going on? Is Damien doing this? But how?

  Terrified, she slowly circled back down to the ground until she reached the sand and landed. She curled her talons beneath her and refused to look at the orb, even as every fiber in her being screamed for her to turn.

  There was only one other option: she would try and alter this dreamscape. Taking a deep breath, Selene closed her eyes and spread out her wings. She pictured the beach: the long stretch of sand, the gently rolling waves, the cool breeze, and the clear blue sky. She couldn’t make Damien’s soul disappear, but she could change everything else. She would create a great storm, one that would hide the soulsphere from her vision. If she could do that, then at least it meant she could still manipulate his dream.

  She let out her breath with one great whoosh and brought her wings down. She felt her power surge inside, crackling along her spine and mark. But it never expanded.

  She opened her eyes. The dreamscape remained as it was. Not even a cloud had appeared. She waved her wings again and again, exerting her power until the heat from the effort overtook her. Then she let her wings hover in place while she held her beak slightly open and breathed quickly to cool down.

  Nothing had changed. Behind her, the waves moved in soothing monotony, the wind blew through the dune grass, and she could feel the pull of Damien’s soulsphere.

  Selene had no power here.

  Her breath came out in short rasps and her body shook. She was not prepared for this, whatever it was. Mother never mentioned a dreamscape where she could not escape or change—or the powerful pull of certain soulspheres.

  Maybe her mother had never experienced this.

  What do I do? I can’t leave. I-I can’t do anything! Why is this happening?

  No. She clicked her beak. I can’t panic. I cannot lose control of my emotions. Think, Selene, think. What else could be happening?

  She paused and swallowed, picturing every part of her body and forcing each muscle to relax. She couldn’t change the dreamscape, but that didn’t mean she was in danger. And even if she was, she could still fight, even within this place.

  With that in mind, Selene slowly twisted her neck until she could see Damien’s soulsphere from the corner of her eye. What if someone or something was keeping her here? It was possible it was Damien, but she felt like it was something more powerful. A god or some being?

  The Dark Lady, perhaps?

  Selene stood still. No, it did not feel like the Dark Lady. The sanctuary always felt cold and dark. This felt . . . warm. Welcoming, even though she was trapped.

  She shuffled her claws across the sand and turned more fully toward the orb. But if it wasn’t Damien or the Dark Lady, then who? The god of the old ways? The one the followers of the Light were devoted to?

  Was he real?

  And if so, maybe she was supposed to be here.

  Her eyes widened. She stared at Damien’s soul, her heart quickening at the sight. A tingle started inside her chest, spreading across her body, to her head, to her wings, to her claws.

  She swallowed, her throat dry. She took one step, then another toward Damien’s soul. What caused it to be so full of light? Petur’s had been grey and cloudy, and Renata’s—

  She stopped, her insides clenching.

  Renata.

  Her servant girl’s soul had been as dark as night and surrounded by chains.

  Selene closed her eyes and breathed through the nostrils along her beak. Did that mean Damien had never experienced pain or heartache? No.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the orb. She had seen his hurt, experienced his fear. His heart still grieved over the death of his parents and brother. He feared his gift and what it could do. He was just like everyone else whose dreams she had walked through. There was a hint of darkness within the light of his soul.

  So what made him different?

  “I want to know,” Selene whispered and took another step toward his soulsphere. “I want what you have. I’ve experienced pain and grief and fear, same as you. Yet you live with a burning hope inside of you, and I . . .”

  A tear formed in the corner of her eye as she continued toward the orb. “I live in darkness. And I can’t find a way to escape.”

  Could he hear her inside the dreamscape? Did he know of the immense light he carried inside of him?

  I would do anything to be free. To have what you have.

  But maybe there was no escape for her. Darkness and hatred tainted House Ravenwood from as far back as she knew, all the way back to Rabanna.

  Then why was she stuck here? She stopped and looked around. Why couldn’t she escape Damien’s dreamscape? Why was she drawn so strongly to his soul? Was there another purpose?

  She sucked in a breath and looked ahead. The glowing orb stood twenty feet away, swirling with life and light.

  What if she had it all wrong? Despite her fears and hesitations, she had come here tonight to fulfill her mission because she believed that in doing so, she would be helping her people and her sisters. She was willing to sacrifice herself for others.

  But what if killing Damien was not the answer?

  What if keeping him alive was?

  Could he do more for her people than she could, since he had that light inside of him? Could he save her sisters, especially little Ophie?

  Selene closed the gap between herself and the soulsphere until she was standing before it. Even now, her mother was carrying out her own mission on House Vivek. Tomorrow, the bodies of Lord Rune and his sister Runa would be found dead in their beds, as if they had passed away in their sleep. Selene should be doing the same to Lord Damien.

  She stretched out one wing, letting it hover inches from the orb. She knew what Damien’s fears were. All she had to do was have him relive his parents’ death over and over. Or . . .

  She spread out her other wing. She could let him drown and shatter his dream world. She could even search out that shadowy hole she had seen inside of him during her second excursion into his dreams.

  She stood there, her wings spread. A cool wind came over her, and in that moment, she felt every current of his dreamscape, every thread that tied his memories, hopes, and wishes together. Her power had returned. Whatever had prevented her earlier was now gone. She could fulfill her mission.

  Do it, an insidious voice whispered. Do it now and claim your right as heir to Ravenwood. Your sister Amara would not hesitate. You’re more powerful than her, are you not?

  But I do not want power. I want freedom and peace. I want the light.

  The yearning returned in her heart, so powerful it took her breath away. All she could see was the light from Damien’s soul. She wanted it. More than anything else. To cup it in her hands and place it where her own cold, dark soul lived.

  The yearning turned into a deep ache, and her throat grew tight. If only this had been her destiny: to carry light instead of darkness. This world needed Lord Damien. It needed souls like his. It needed more light. There was too much darkness already.

  She shook her head and lowered her wings.

  I can’t do it. I can’t destroy something so beautiful.

  If she couldn’t carry the light herself, then she would make sure it lived on.

  I will do anything—even give my life—to make sure the light carries on.

  With that, Selene took a step back. It felt like a burden had fallen away from her shoulders. The vacillation was done. She no longer questioned what she sho
uld do. The weeks of agonizing over whether to dreamkill or not had ended. She had her answer.

  She needed to save Lord Damien.

  Her mind now feverishly searched for a new plan. She could help him escape. She knew the old tunnels below the castle better than anyone. One of the mines met up with an underground river that led north. It was dangerous, and it would take over a day to reach the opening, but it would leave him close to the border of his own country where he would be protected.

  And then she would return home.

  Selene smiled sadly. Yes, she would save him. And it would cost her. Mother would not face her in the dream world, as Selene was much too powerful. No. She would be marked as a traitor to House Ravenwood and executed.

  Selene rose and transformed into her human body. Her unbound hair flowed with the sweet wind blowing across the dreamscape. A simple gown covered her form, and her dual swords were strapped to her middle. She no longer cared if Damien saw her here, in her human form. The time for secrets was over.

  She watched Damien’s soulsphere. It would end this way, with his life spared and hers lost. But strangely she found peace in the exchange. She wasn’t a killer, she never had been. Ultimately, she wasn’t like Rabanna or her mother. She would not be the savior of her people. But maybe, just maybe, by letting Damien live, he would find a way to share his light with others. Like her sister Ophie. Perhaps even Amara.

  She held out her hand. The heat of his life flared, warming her fingers. Her smiled widened. What a beautiful soul.

  Selene took a deep breath and brushed her fingers across the surface. The light rippled beneath her, then flared again. She felt his conscious awaken to her presence.

  She leaned forward, almost as if to kiss the soulsphere. “Wake up, Damien,” she whispered softly. “You are not safe here.”

  His soul grew brighter and brighter until it was a blinding light flashing across the dreamscape. Selene closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his life and soul across her face and body. Energy surged around her, pulling her to her feet, then rushing through her like a river.

  Well done, Dreamer.

  That voice . . . Selene opened her eyes, then shut them against the bright light. She knew that voice. It wasn’t the corrupt voice from minutes before. It was the one that spoke after she received her gifting so many months ago. The one that had declared a dreamer had been born.

  She listened, waiting to hear more. But only a dull roar filled her ears. At the last moment, she let go of the dreamscape. Instead of flying upward, she remained in her human form and let herself be carried along with Damien’s subconscious toward reality as his mind and body awoke.

  35

  Lord Damien!”

  Damien blinked his eyes as the beach near Nor Esen and the dream voice faded from his mind. There had been a raven there too. Or had it been a woman? A woman with long dark hair . . .

  He blinked again. There was a figure hovering over him, dressed in black.

  What the—

  Taegis yelled again and pulled the figure away. There was a thump against the floor and a low groan.

  Damien sat up, his mind speeding to the present. A stranger. In his room. He swung his legs around, fully alert.

  “My lord, are you all right?” Taegis asked, his sword out.

  “Yes.” He mentally checked his body as he spotted the intruder lying near the middle of the room close to the right wall. His face was swathed in black cloth and a hood, only leaving his eyes—which were presently closed—visible. “I’m fine.” He stood, ready for a fight.

  Wake up, Damien.

  He frowned. The dream voice again.

  You are not safe here.

  Taegis turned his attention to the figure lying on the ground. “Who are you?” he said as he took a step closer, the tip of his sword pointed toward the intruder. “What are you doing in Lord Maris’s room?”

  “My lord?” Cohen stumbled out from the other room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I heard yelling.”

  Karl and Sten entered the room at the same moment. They both spotted the trespasser and pulled their swords. One of them lit a candle on the side table near the bed.

  “Stay where you are, monk,” Taegis said without glancing Cohen’s way. “We have an intruder.”

  The figure used the nearby wall to stand. Damien narrowed his eyes. In the candlelight, he could see the intruder better. His physique was small, almost feminine—

  The intruder wasn’t a man.

  It was a woman.

  And she wore dual swords along her waist.

  Wait. He recognized those swords—

  Taegis brought his sword up and pointed it at the woman’s heart as she turned. “Either reveal yourself and what is going on, or I will cut you down here and now.”

  Damien walked over to Taegis while Karl and Sten hovered behind him. Yes, he knew those swords. He would never forget watching her practice with them. He looked into her eyes. Dark and rich. No doubt about it. The intruder was Lady Selene.

  Her eyes focused on him, and there was something in her gaze. A deep sadness. Her eyes crinkled. “I couldn’t do it.” Her voice came out muffled from behind her wrap. She lifted her hand, but Taegis brought his sword up, stopping her.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  “You asked who I am. Well, I’m showing you.”

  Taegis grunted and pulled his sword back, but only far enough so she could reach her hood.

  Damien stared at her as her hood fell back and a long black braid fell out from the dark folds. She undid the scarf around her face and let the black cloth drop to the floor, revealing her face. Cohen gasped, but Damien ignored him. The voice he had heard in his dream. The one warning him. It was Lady Selene’s voice.

  He placed his hand on Taegis’s arm as his guardian raised his sword again. “Lady Selene. What’s going on?”

  Her eyes darted between Taegis and Damien. Damien kept his hand on Taegis’s arm. He wanted to hear what she had to say first, before any action was taken.

  Her shoulders dropped in resignation. “I was sent here to kill you.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Kill me?”

  “Yes.” She looked away and visibly swallowed. “I couldn’t do it.”

  Her words echoed again inside his head. You are not safe here.

  Taegis’s nostrils flared, and he brought his sword within an inch of her chest. “You were assigned to kill Lord Damien? Who sent you? And why?”

  Damien detected deep anger in his voice. No doubt Taegis was remembering the death of Lord Remfrey Maris, a death he could not prevent. “Taegis, wait.”

  Taegis’s gaze never left Selene’s face. “This woman just admitted coming here to kill you. We cannot let her go. Give me permission and—”

  “No.”

  “My lord?”

  “Harming Lady Selene would create an international incident. I came here to broker peace, not start a war, no matter what the other houses’ intentions were.”

  “We can’t trust her.” Taegis lifted his sword until it was just beneath her chin. Karl and Sten came to stand behind him, their swords drawn as well.

  Selene glanced back. She never flinched, even with Taegis’s blade near the pulse of life beneath her skin. Instead, she focused on Damien.

  “If she had wanted to kill me, she would have done that already, isn’t that right, Lady Selene?”

  “Yes.” There was no emotion in her voice. Only sadness reflected in her eyes.

  “Instead, she chose not to.” Damien pressed down on Taegis’s arm. “I think that has at least earned her a little bit of trust. However, I still wish to know what is going on.”

  Lady Selene’s eyes darted toward the door. “We don’t have much time. She might be coming already to check.”

  “Who?”

  “My mother. You were named a threat to our house. Because of that, I was sent to eliminate you.”

  “A threat?” Damien furrowed his brow. “How?”

  “
The Dark Lady said a threat would come from the north and destroy House Ravenwood.”

  “The Dark Lady . . .”

  “So the rumors are true. She is the patroness of House Ravenwood,” Cohen answered quietly. “A dark and formidable being.”

  Damien glanced back. “She’s real?”

  “She exists where she is given power.”

  “That’s not all,” Selene continued.

  Damien turned back.

  “There is an alliance between House Ravenwood, House Friere, and the—the—”

  “The what?”

  Lady Selene opened and closed her mouth again, then said something under her breath. “I can’t say. That information is bound to my house.”

  “An alliance? Between Ravenwood, Friere, and . . . the empire?” Damien had suspected something, but not that. Not something so bold. He took a step back, a ringing in his ears.

  Caiaphas had been right. The skirmishes along the border, the unexplained deaths amongst some of the houses . . . it was all part of a much bigger plan. No wonder House Ravenwood and House Friere had voted against the treaty. A fire began to burn inside his chest, and his eyes grew hard. Was House Rafel also a part of it? He clenched his hand into a fist. “So what stopped you from killing me? Why did you betray your house?”

  Selene turned away. “I’m not a killer. I won’t be a part of this. My mother’s plans—ambitions—they go too far. I can help you escape. I know a way out of here, a way back to your country. But we must hurry.” She glanced back. “If we are caught, I can’t help you.”

  “How can I trust you? And what about the other houses? If what you said is true, then they are all in danger. Shouldn’t we help them?”

  “We can’t. If we leave this room, then we are all dead.”

  He noted how she included herself in the current danger. By saving his life, Lady Selene had forfeited her own. But why?

  He glanced at the outer door, a part of him ready to dash out and warn the other houses. But deep down he knew it was foolhardy. If Caiaphas was right, and it appeared he was, this plan had been in the making for months, if not years. And it seemed Damien was the only one in danger at the moment.