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Mark of the Raven

Page 30

by Morgan L. Busse


  Ragna stopped. Was that a possibility?

  She clenched her hands and stared out the window.

  Although powerful, Selene appeared to have a hard time disconnecting herself from her dream victims. Lady Ragna thought her daughter was improving, but what if Lord Damien had been more than Selene could handle as a new dreamkiller? The young lord was a notable follower of the old ways, of the Light. Had she underestimated Lord Damien? Had his dreamscape proven to be too much, like his father before him?

  “Maybe I should have left House Vivek to Selene and done away with Lord Maris myself,” Lady Ragna murmured. Not that Lord Rune or his sister had been easy victims. Their minds and gifts of wisdom had made navigating their dreamscapes difficult.

  Knock. Knock.

  Lady Ragna looked up. Had the messenger finally arrived?

  The door cracked open, and the guard looked in. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the priest—”

  The door flung all the way open and the young guard was thrust aside. In the doorway stood the priest of the Dark Lady, clad in a long black robe, his cowl pulled low over his head, shadowing his eyes.

  “Wise one.” Lady Ragna bowed before the old priest.

  “Lady Ragna,” he said in a raspy voice. “We must speak. Alone.”

  Lady Ragna waved dismissively toward the guard. “Leave us.”

  “My lady?” he said. “Captain Stanton ordered—”

  “I am ordering you to leave this room now and close the door behind you.”

  With an exasperated look, the guard bowed and left, making sure to shut the door behind him. She knew Captain Stanton feared for her safety, hence the added security. It was an annoyance, but one she could not dismiss. The captain had no idea that she could take care of herself, so she went along with his overbearing caution.

  “The Dark Lady has brought another message.” The priest made his way along the floor toward the center of the room. A chill seemed to follow him.

  “Another message?”

  “Yes. It seems the threat from the north has grown more certain.”

  Lady Ragna sucked in a breath. “How? I took care of House Vivek. Is it because House Maris escaped?”

  The priest lifted his head, revealing his watery blue eyes. A slip of white hair hung down across his wrinkled forehead. “The hope from the north has survived. The same hope that will unite the Great Houses, but also be the downfall of House Ravenwood.”

  Lady Ragna’s body tightened. She knew it! She should have been the one to take out House Maris. “It’s House Maris, isn’t it? I chose the wrong house. I should have taken care of both of them myself.”

  “And there is more. Lady Selene is no longer part of House Ravenwood.”

  She looked up. “What do you mean? I have yet to receive word back from the Vanguard Garrison about Lord Maris or my daughter. Is Selene dead?”

  “No. She has joined House Maris.”

  “Joined . . . House Maris?” The words sank in, leaving a hollow feeling inside her belly. “My daughter . . . joined House Maris?” The room began to spin. Not only had her daughter failed to destroy the threat to their house, she had aligned with the enemy.

  Lady Ragna ground her teeth and glared at the priest. “What do you mean joined? Tell me plainly what the Dark Lady said.”

  The chill in the room grew stronger, and the hairs along Lady Ragna’s arms stood on end.

  The priest seemed even taller as he stood before Lady Ragna. “A union has formed between Lady Selene and Lord Damien. The hope of the Great Houses still burns brightly. And if not stopped, the downfall of House Ravenwood is certain.”

  “Selene married Lord Damien?” Lady Ragna stumbled back toward the chair near the empty fireplace. “But why?” she whispered. What had transpired between the two of them that her daughter went from killing him to marrying him? Was there something she had missed? Her heart sank even further.

  “If they have indeed bonded, then Lord Damien knows . . .” She covered her lips with her hand. Her whole body tingled with adrenaline. Her mind felt like it had crashed into a stone wall.

  Lord Damien knew their secrets. He knew their gift.

  The tingling turned to a fiery burn. Her hands began to shake as she turned back toward the priest. “Why did the Dark Lady keep this hidden from me? Why didn’t she tell me it would be House Maris? If I had known, I could have gone after Lord Damien myself.” Fire burst inside of her, sending her to her feet. She stared at the priest, her hands clenched at her sides. “Why?”

  “The ways of the Dark Lady are a mystery.” The priest folded his hands in front of his robes.

  “Or could it be she didn’t know?” Lady Ragna said before she could stop herself.

  His eyes flared. “The Dark Lady does as she pleases.”

  “At the expense of losing the prestige she has gained here? If House Ravenwood falls, then the Dark Lady falls with us.”

  The priest glared at her for a moment. “I do not know,” he conceded. “Perhaps she is bound as well by a higher power. Perhaps her vision was clouded.”

  A higher power? Did he mean the Light? Lady Ragna crossed her arms and shivered. Up until now, the Dark Lady had brought secrets and power to House Ravenwood. And in payment, the women of Ravenwood were devoted to her. Lady Ragna didn’t think of the Dark Lady as inferior to the Light. But what if she was? Where did that leave House Ravenwood?

  She turned around and shook her head. She needed to correct this. She would correct this. “It’s not too late. The rest of the houses are not united, not yet. And I will be sure to keep it that way today when I meet with them. And I will begin training a new dreamkiller. Amara will be coming into her power any day now.”

  The priest nodded. “Time is still on your side, Lady Ragna. You can stop the threat to your house. But it will cost you the life of your firstborn daughter.”

  Lady Ragna clenched her jaw. “That house traitor is no daughter of mine. Selene is dead to me now. I will train Amara to take over for her sister, then I will send her after House Maris.” She looked at the mountains outside her window and raised her fist. “Mark my words: House Ravenwood will not fall. We will fight, and in the end, we will win.”

  Morgan L. Busse is a writer by day and a mother by night. She is the author of the FOLLOWER OF THE WORD series and the new steampunk series THE SOUL CHRONICLES. Her debut novel, Daughter of Light, was a Christy and Carol Award finalist. During her spare time she enjoys playing games, taking long walks, and dreaming about her next novel. She and her family live in Bloomington, Illinois. Visit her online at www.morganlbusse.com.

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