Page 67 of The Hopeless Romantic’s Guide to Enchantment

The massive snowy owl drew alongside Korvi. Its rider was strapped to a heavy-duty saddle that appeared to be tufted with bear fur and lined with gold. (Considering how heavy gold was, that was A Choice.) The Duke of Dalet – the only rider in the region, at least according to Cera’s admittedly bad research – wore heavy cloth, a fur cloak, and had shiny golden medals pinned on his left arm and shoulder. A thick cowl draped over his head, with a flap covering his nose and mouth, likely for the cold. He had to tug the flap down to lift some thing to his lips.

A sharp, almost musical whistle cut through the air.

Korvi physically cringed, his wingbeats faltering briefly. One of those, then. Cera narrowed her eyes as the snowy owl drew closer, staying in perfect alignment as they flew.

The duke called, “Greetings, Cera Windswift, Duchess of the Forest of Raliana, birthplace of the Shining Eagle and its children. Welcome to Dalet.”

Cera straightened on hearing her title. It sounded so unnecessarily fancy, coming from him. Tasi’s arms tightened around her stomach, a warning, but Cera was well in her element now.

“I assume you are our escort?” Her voice now was nothing short of regal.

“If you’ll allow it.” The duke pulled down the front part of his cowl again, just long enough to offer a dashing smile. Even from here, Cera could see that reports of his stunning appearance were not exaggerated.

Feeling warm, perceived, Cera offered a pretty smile in response. “Well, I’d certainly hate to stay up here all day. It’s freezing.”

The duke laughed – a charming sound. He signaled with two fingers, then lifted a small whistle from his neck and blew it again.

Once more, that sharp, musical sound echoed through the sky – and again, Korvi cringed.

Cera gritted her teeth.

The duke replaced the covering over his nose and mouth as the snowy owl seamlessly took the lead. Korvi was a big warbird – ravens were big regardless – but this owl was bigger. It moved with powerful grace, its feathers stunningly white apart from the occasional brown. It swiveled its head to make sure its rider was in place, and that Korvi was following, before diving into the storm below them. The duke and his bird disappeared into the clouds.

“Slow and steady, Korvi,” Cera murmured.

The raven cawed, but dutifully dipped after the owl.

If Cera had thought it was cold beforehand, it was absolutely miserable inside the storm. At least high up, the sun was warm. Here, moisture clung to the clouds, soaking through Cera’s already pathetic gloves and freezing her fingers. She shuddered again as darkness surrounded them, but Korvi could sense other warbirds and followed the duke’s owl effortlessly.

Tasi had fallen silent, as always.

Or maybe she was still mad.

Difficult to say.

It took several minutes to descend, and Cera popped her ears a few times as Korvi adjusted for the turbulence. The precipitation thinned and vanished as they slid below the cloud line, the storm a thick carpet above them while the icy landscape of Dalet unfolded below.

Cera distinctly remembered that book calling this region a ‘utopia’ – at least before she fell asleep and drooled over it. Now, she questioned how accurate that descriptor was, because this didn’t look like her version of utopia.

Dramatic, inhospitable mountains jutted from the landscape, and someone had thought it was a good idea to build a fucking city between them. A single road emerged from a tunnel in one of the mountains, because there literally wasn’t a spot to build a road through any natural pass. Dalet’s central valley was framed with dozens of greenhouses, and a thick forest edged the gleaming stone metropolis coated in snow that somehow looked as unwelcoming as the mountains.

“It’s pretty,” Cera remarked.

“Liar,” Tasi drawled.

The duke’s owl soared over the city’s streets, and citizens below stopped to point.

Cera barely saw them, because Korvi’s body language had shifted. It was subtle, so subtle that no one else would notice. But the raven had identified some thing on the horizon and didn’t want to approach it, based on the way his speed slowed, the way he began scoping avenues of escape.

And Cera couldn’t blame him.

“An aviary,” Cera said. “That’s a surprise.”

“Is it?” Tasi muttered.

No. Not anymore.

The duke’s palace had been built in the shadow of the massive cage, a stone monstrosity that jutted from one of the mountainsides. Through tall stone pillars, Cera could see it was adorned with everything a snowy owl warbird could want – room to fly, huge stone perches, captured reindeer herds as prey.