Page 20 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“No clever comeback?” Lochlan quips, refusing to let this go, gesturing wildly toward the bound Fawn who has wisely stopped trying to make any sound through the gag.

“Your bullshit accusation doesn't deserve the effort,” I say gruffly, more tension lacing my words than I would like. “You snatch some random human off the streets and try to spin it into a story of—”

“Where's her mark?” Arawyn cuts in quiet but no less clear. In her thrashing Fawn has scooted herself back, now visible to us from our seated vantage point. Every set of eyes has gone directly to her ears.

“Good point, mother,” Lochlan croons and my eye twitches. “Shouldn't she have a mark? That is, if she didn't just return with Caden. You've been home for, what, a handful of hours? That's certainly long enough for you to have taken her to the Barracks to receive her mark. Unless you planned to keep her for yourself.”

Arawyn turns her head achingly slowly toward me, her gaze piercing. A bead of sweat trails down my neck and soaks into the collar of my shirt. I’m used to the queen’s obsessive suspicion of me, so I do not show any panic.

If that fucking woman had just stayed put…

I reach across the table and take her hand, desperately trying to gain control of this situation. “Arawyn, mother, you know I would never steal from you.” My voice drops even lower as I whisper, “You know I can't.”

She blinks at me, her expression entirely unreadable. She’s got a far off look in her eyes, her head tilted to the side. It's a look I've seen countless times before. Like she's listening to someone whispering in her ear. Without taking her eyes off me she asks, “Has the general returned?”

“He has, my queen,” Gregor answers.

“Bring him to me.”

Gregor nods, turning swiftly on his feet and marching out of the room. At least Arawyn didn’t open up a rift for him to travel to Doran instantly. It will buy me time, if only just. Hopefully it is long enough for me to fucking think. My chest aches, my hand twitching to rub at the gnawing wound. The queen slumps back in her seat, a pensive look on her face as she waves off the Vessel who holds his waiting arm out to her. I down the rest of Yasminda’s blood, just for something to do with my hands, anything to keep them from rubbing at my chest. Lochlan scraps his chair back with a loud screech and suddenly stands.

“Where are you going?” Arawyn snaps.

“I assumed if brother dearest here can keep eating, then so can I,” he says, moving in a blur and yanking the struggling Fawn off the ground. She screams against the cloth wrapped tightly around her mouth, jerking from side to side, attempting to free herself. The queen doesn’t even seem to notice. What does she care if Lochlan bleeds a human dry?

Fawn’s eyes lock on mine. Fear shines in them, but it’s nothing compared to the rage. Lochlan grins, running his nose up and down her throat. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me, trying to prove his point. All I need to do is ignore him—

Are those bite marks on her neck?

The sound of shattering crystal is the only way I notice I’ve crushed the wineglass I’m holding, my blood blending with Yasminda’s and running down my gripped hand. I narrow in on the fresh puncture wounds I see, the beginnings of a bruise coloring them.

Someone has tasted her. Someone that was not me.

The thought burns away my rational mind. At the exact moment Lochlan opens his mouth to strike, I slam my fist on top of the shards, slicing my hand more, as I shout, “I claim her!”

"My, my, so greedy," Lochlan says, snaking his arms around Fawn’s waist, resting his chin atop her head. His posture is entirely possessive, and that feral demon inside of me is begging for release. One taste of her blood and that beast I keep at bay has become overwhelmingly strong. It’s making it impossible to think rationally.

“Arawyn, please,” I say, fighting with myself for control over the demon inside me. The one that is screaming that someone has tasted what is mine. My mind is wild, chaotic, controlled entirely by the bloodlust and ravenous hunger that I have kept at bay since the moment my heart was carved out of my chest. Until now. Until tasting her. “I have never once asked you for anything since becoming your son. I have followed your every command, have conquered kingdoms in your name, and have begged for nothing in return. Give me this. Give me her.”

“That's not true, Caden,” She whispers, shaking her head, her ivory waves curling around her face. “The night we met you were asking for a gift.”

A gift.

I want to laugh. It wasn’t the Raven Queen I sought for a gift, but I suppose that doesn’t matter in the end. Just because I was too blind to see I was bargaining with a demon does not mean I am any less guilty.

Arawyn goes rigid. She’s staring straight ahead, her lips pulled in a thin frown. I’m just about to beseech her again when Doran comes striding in with Gregor at his heels. The sight of my old friend stills that bright red lust inside of me, calming that animal enough that I can think beyond the need to have Fawn’s blood on my tongue again.

Gregor is whistling a sharp annoying tune, and I do nothing to hide the snarl as I glare at him. He’s acting like he’s leading a prisoner in for execution, not the general of a gods-damned army. If I still had a heart, it would be trying to beat its way out of my chest. I cannot allow her to harm Doran, not after everything he’s done for me, after everything he’s stood by me through.

“Mother—”

She holds a dainty hand up and silences me instantly before I can even begin to plead his case. I turn slowly away from her, to look at Doran. He seems completely stoic, a stone wall, unreadable and unrelenting. He doesn’t so much as glance at Lochlan and Fawn, instead dropping to one knee before the queen and placing a fist over his heart.

“Rise,” she murmurs, and he’s on his feet in a moment. I know he hates bowing to her as much as I do.

“My queen,” he says, waiting as she simply looks between myself and Lochlan, never once acknowledging Fawn, like she doesn’t even register in her mind. That fear in Fawn’s expression has taken on a harsher, sharper look. I could think for a moment that it’s almost the calculating gaze of a warrior using her fear to fuel her resolve. Doran looks at Fawn, giving her a once over, before turning back to the queen and asking, “How may I serve you?”

“The human was found without a mark, a punishable offense among my slaves,” Arawyn says, completely ignoring my plea as she stands. Her wings spread wide behind her before snapping tightly in. She moves around the table, trailing her hand over my shoulder as she passes, her sharp nails digging in ever-so-slightly. “This is for your own good, my son. I know how easily you lose yourself to obsession.”