Page 70 of The Stolen Crown

What in the hells? Perched on a high branch was a glossy raven. The bird cawed and tilted its head at the curious fae below, as though it could not figure why the woman called to it.

Shit. I ought to have seen it sooner. Madness could overtake a mind when left in such a solitary place for so long.

The raven shrieked, then flew from the tree deeper into the lush jungle of the isle.

“No!” Tears streaked Mira’s cheeks.

“Stop.” I stepped in front of her before she could chase the bird and caught her around the waist. “Mira, stop. That isn’t your mother.”

She let out a broken sob and covered her face. “I know. There…there”—she hiccupped—“was a white streak on the beak. It couldn’t be her.”

By the gods. She’d slipped further than I anticipated.

“Look at me.” I spun her around, hands on her shoulders. “Your mother is the queen of the glamour fae, a woman. You are Mira of House Sekundär. You are no raven.”

Mira blinked, and the stormy amber brightened to mossy gold beneath her tears. All at once, she laughed. Wet and broken, but it grew louder, louder, until Mira let her brow fall to my chest.

She blew out a quivering breath. “I know I’m not a raven. But I thought it might’ve been my maj. Gods, I wanted it to be her.”

“All right, let’s get you some water—”

“Tait.” She pulled away. “I haven’t lost my wits.”

“Listen, it’s not uncommon to see things when you’ve had too much sun and are forced onto such a small isle.”

“Gods, you’re such a beautiful fool.” Mira shook her head. “You don’t know my mother’s glamour, do you?”

I shifted on one foot, then the other. “I was told she had illusions like yours.”

“That’s my father.”

“I assumed all glamour fae dealt with illusions.”

Mira let her head fall back, face toward the sun. “Another sign you might learn a great deal if you’d ask. One question to Livie and you would’ve known. My mother is a shifter. She can alter her form into a raven.”

My brows lifted. Bleeding hells, such a rare form of magic. In truth, I’d never crossed paths with a shapeshifter in my entire life. Some thought the fiercest merfolk could alter their forms into razor fish. I’d never seen such a thing.

Mira’s shoulders slumped. “The raven mark on my father’s skin is a sigil for his bond with my mother. In truth, her ability is a gift that normally passes on, but the Norns did not see fit to give it to me.” Mira waved the thought away. “It doesn’t matter. You may stop thinking I’ve lost my mind. I was half asleep, saw the raven, and for a moment, let hope rise too swiftly.”

Without another word, Mira turned away and hurried back to the cavern with less light in her eyes than before.

The silence during the following days was unbearable. In truth, I wasn’t certain it was possible for the woman to be so stoic.

Mira traipsed back and forth to the village, burning more bones on small altars near the shore. More than once, I caught her whispering hopes for the dead.

Even without knowing a single soul, Mira took great care in arranging their resting places. Circled in blooms and runes that she carved in chips of wood, the bones of a strange clan met the hall of the gods draped in as much finery as she could bestow.

For the first time, I didn’t roll my eyes, didn’t mock her need to beautify a simple moment. I saw, for once, a woman with a heart who cared a great deal about others, even those she did not know.

Soon scorch marks from burnt burial mounds lined the water’s edge.

I reshaped the skiff and nearly had it worthy of sailing the sea. With unsettling silence, Mira aided me in fastening boards with ropes and pulleys from the rigging we found from the Sea Void wreckage and rope from the old shops in the village.

The woman did not even argue my opinions on the proper way to shape the hull.

It seemed, at long last, I’d broken her. That, or I disgusted her enough that she could not stomach being in my presence for much longer than a few moments. Everything I’ve wanted her to do since our paths crossed, now I resented with fiery passion.

When the silence grew too much, I went against my better judgment and forced conversation, all to hear her damn voice.