Page 22 of Ravenrose

Chapter 11

ROWAN

Ifight the urge to stay right here and wait for Riven, but the wild energy, fear, and adrenaline surging through me is taking over, so I break into a run, heading for the west tower’s entrance. Not to flee—not yet. But from the west hall, I will have a better vantage point of the castle walls to see what is happening outside.

And I’m not the only one.

A small crowd is forming by the windows at the base of the tower; I recognize two of them as lords, Riven’s friends from court, along with a handful of servants. They’re all staring down at the scene below, expressions white with fear.

The group parts for me, letting me through.

“What’s happening?” I ask, peering out the nearest window. The base of the tower offers an unimpeded view of the castle gates and walls. Fae archers are perched upon them, either impatiently pacing as they wait for the army to get within range, or standing as still as the gargoyles beside them.

And beyond them, I pale, taking in the sight of the Kovarian army. Rows and rows of soldiers and horses, clad in silver armour—some in black—helmets on and weapons drawn.

Archers line Rosecliff’s walls; more soldiers stand in rigid formation in the yard. But even I can tell… there aren’t enough. Not nearly enough. If Kovaria breaches the walls...

My heart sinks.

Fel took most of Rosecliff’s forces, along with his own, to lead the evacuation through the tunnels. They will ensure the passage is safe, prioritizing the safety of Rosecliff’s people.

All who remained behind did so voluntarily.

Most of the soldiers are older, many of them coming out of retirement to protect Rosecliff and our people.

I scan the soldiers below until I spot my brother, just in front of the reinforced gates, talking with one of the commanders. In my periphery, my eyes snag upon a catapult, far out across the field, just before it’s launched.

“Get down!” I scream, pulling the nearest person with me to the ground. An enormous boulder sails toward the castle walls, just narrowly missing the window. The tower shudders at the impact; glass and pottery shatter around us as they’re knocked from their shelves.

A woman is crying.

I rise slowly and peek out the window, curiosity outweighing the danger. Outside, the neat lines of the Kovarian army part, making way for someone—or something.

A dark figure emerges, outfitted fully in black, giving him the illusion of being cloaked in darkness. It’s still dark out, but the night’s shadows appear to cling to him, twisting around his body like some kind of shield.

The Raven.

My eyes go wide and I stumble backward, away from the window, drawing further into the shadows myself, my instincts screaming at me to run—to hide—from the dark demon.

Behind me, one man begins a rapid prayer to the goddess of light.

The shadow demon steps forward, moving past the front line of waiting soldiers, his cloak billowing out behind him in the strong wind. Though his hood and cowl remain in place, concealing every inch of his face, hiding the fully blackened eyes, demon eyes, I know I’d find underneath.

He stops a few feet ahead of the line, his gaze narrowing on the castle gates.

The blood in my veins turns to ice, and I know the very moment he draws in his power, a gasp of surprise escaping me. To everyone else, he just looks to be standing there. Watching. Waiting.

But really, he’s gathering power, and from the ice in my veins and the bitter tang on my tongue, he’s calling forth a lot of power. More power than I’ve ever sensed before.

Fae with magic can sense magic in others, can even garner their strength or their power if so attuned. It’s why I have to be so careful when practicing my own, lest anyone with royal blood be lurking about. A Raven isn’t fae, but a creature born from the blood of demons. I shouldn’t be able to feel it. That power—his power—is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

A choking sound escapes me when he steps forward again, leaving the vast Kovarian army at his back and walking toward the castle walls—alone. Someone close by misunderstands my fear and rubs a comforting hand across my back.

“He’ll never make it past the archers,” one of the young lords I saw Riven talking to earlier says smugly. “Just wait till he’s in range. They’ll shoot him down in seconds.”

I keep my eyes on the Raven. He looks like a man, just like the rest of the soldiers, in the way he moves and carries himself, but darkness bleeds from him with every step, as if he’s leaking shadows. I can practically see the darkness emanating from him as he prowls forward with lethal grace, dark shadows trailing out behind his billowing cloak.

Given the fact that no one around me is screaming, I might be the only one who can see them.