Page 30 of Heart of the Raven Prince

He doesn’t even appear to be listening, focused wholly on my injury. After a moment, as though it is a great effort for him to do so, he drags his gaze away from my blood and holds me in his midnight gaze.

“No,” he says, finally releasing me and taking a step back from me. “You wouldn’t have. The Raven Queen was inevitable. This was inevitable.” With those cryptic, confusing words, he turns and begins strolling off into the night, but not before he calls over his shoulder, “Stay away from the red-eyed ones, Oisín. Stay away from Lochlan.”

He steps into the shadows, and the night consumes him.

I let out a shuddering breath, slumping against the wall as all that pent up tension finally leaves my body. My heart is beating wildly; I cannot seem to get it to calm in his presence. I don’t spare a moment to wonder about his words, knowing they are likely just another form of torture. He wasn’t able to destroy my body so now he’s going after my mind—trying to confuse me—and getting his own sick pleasure out of the torment.

Well, he can’t fucking have it.

Pushing myself off the wall, I turn and walk back into the Barracks. The bottom floor is made up entirely of that catch-all storehouse I saw earlier, with rooms upon rooms filled to the brim with items and supplies for any of the many workhouses the humans are placed in. There is also a large kitchen situated at the back, though it is quiet and dark now. I was surprised at first by the seeming lack of guards, shackles, or cages of any kind.

I expected to be housed in a cell, chained to the wall and forced to use a wooden bucket for our basic needs. Instead, I found the only guards were stationed at the front. The upper levels aren’t cells at all, but rather sparsely furnished rooms filled with rows of beds. There’s even a communal bathroom, a far cry better than the bucket I was envisioning. Chilly reality set in when I realized they did not need to cage us, chain us, or really even guard us.

Because there is no running from them. I’m painfully aware of that fact now.

Stay put.

I stifle the growl of annoyance that threatens when his shadowy voice enters my mind. Shoving him forcefully out of my thoughts, I focus on the task at hand. Making my way silently through the dark kitchen, I move by the massive staircase that leads up to the beds, heading instead to a storeroom in the back. Where we planned to meet.

Siobhán and I had worked long hours at the dress shop, well into the night, although there was little difference in the darkness outside. Well, Siobhán worked while I mostly ruined scrap pieces and swore under my breath as the thread refused to cooperate. Yasminda never returned. The workhouse was mostly empty by the time Gia told us to return to the Barracks.

We walked back in silence. My body was well and truly spent, aching from hours hunched over. Exhaustion tugged at my eyelids, willing them closed, but my mind was caught in a storm. One thought after another spiraled inside of me like a tornado and I absentmindedly tore at my nails. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until a sting of pain caught my attention. My finger was bleeding; I’d ripped my nail too far. I welcomed the pain. Something to distract me from what is to come.

I’m about to reunite with my people.

I had been elated when I heard that they still lived, but as the hours in the shop wore on, my ragged mind could do nothing but overthink. That, and begin to doubt. They’ve been abandoned for months, forced to live through atrocities I am only just beginning to understand. I wasn’t there to protect them. Would they hold it against me?

Do I hold it against me?

I was pulling in quick, rapid breaths, feeling myself on the verge of fainting as we stepped inside. Siobhán told me the others would most likely be sleeping, but she would rouse them all and gather them in one of the storerooms so we could speak as privately as possible. Instead of following her directions to the room, I had snuck outside to have a moment alone. A single second to simply gather myself. The tears hit me so suddenly there was nothing to do but succumb to them.

Then that gods-damned asshole showed up.

It was like he knew when I was at my weakest, like he relished in watching my pain. I’m not surprised by it, but I am disgusted. I’m so fucking disgusted every time I’m around him. From the exact obsidian shade of his eyes, to those great raven wings at his back, I hate every inch of him.

But now is not the time to be thinking about Caden.

I take a deep breath, quelling that simmering rage as I make my way slowly to the storeroom my people should be waiting in. I need to get myself under control before I see them, I need to act like the queen I am. I can hear hushed voices coming to me from an open doorway, and taking one last second to ready myself, I hold my head high and turn the corner into the storeroom.

Siobhán is the first to look up, an apprehensive smile stretching across her face. She glances across the room, a worried look flashing in her eyes when she does, and I follow the line of her gaze. Before me stands the man from the cobbler, Bryan, I believe. The young man standing next to him must be his son, Seamus, it’s only too obvious in how similar they are.

His salt and pepper hair is held back in a bun, a thick beard lining his hard features. His son is wearing an identical style, but without the spray of gray hair in his brown locks. Bryan has the same murky blue eyes as his son, but his are a shade closer to gray. They’re so similar I could think I’m looking at past and future versions of the same person. They even wear matching looks of disdain that are aimed directly at me.

I turn from them, surveying the rest of the room. There are four other survivors besides those two men, Siobhán, and me. I knit my brows, frowning as I look at Siobhán, my unspoken question apparently clear on my face. There should be fifteen of us in total.

“It wouldn’t be safe for too many of us to be gone at once,” she says, nodding to our small group. “We will pass on the message to the others when we can.”

I nod, swallowing hard as I make myself meet the gazes of everyone in this room. They’re all staring at me, waiting. Expectant. I swallow again, trying to pull any amount of moisture into my impossibly dry mouth.

“What can I possibly say,” I whisper, my voice cracking only once. I blink rapidly against the moisture threatening my eyes, my throat tightening.

I think I might start crying again, until I hear a rough, angry voice quietly snap, “You can start by telling us where the fuck you’ve been.”

“Bryan,” Siobhán hisses. I turn slowly to face Bryan, who is crossing his arms and making no effort to hide his open glare.

“It’s been two fucking months, Siobhán, we deserve answers,” he snaps, never once taking his eyes off me.

“I told you already, time is strange here—”