Page 56 of Heart of the Raven Prince

I trail inside after her, following a few steps behind as she makes her way back up the stairs, easily navigating back to her room. She opens the door, and I remain in the hallway, expecting her to shut the door on me. I'm waiting for her to remove my jacket and return it. Instead, she turns and studies me.

“What happens now?” she asks. I stuff my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall behind me as I shrug.

“Now, we wait for what the queen decides she’s going to do with you.”

“And if she decides to kill me?”

“Then you fight like hell and take as many of them down with you as you can,” I answer honestly. I don’t bother coddling her with false hope that if the queen wants her dead, she can do anything to stop it. At least, not as long as she is untrained.

“Why did you fly me to that island?” she asks, still holding the door open, not quite ready to be done with me yet. I take it as a good sign. She might not have agreed to work with me, but she also isn’t casting me aside. Yet. “I can’t imagine the place holds fond memories for you.”

“Because it was the last place I was truly myself. I don’t go back there to remind myself what I was turned into, I go back to remember who I once was.” I intended to leave it there but before I can stop myself it is spilling out of me, like a cork pulled out on all the words I have kept bottled inside of me. They rush out before I can stop them. “I was a fucking prick, and an idiot, and so gods-damned blinded by a false love. Everyone else around me saw the warning signs, and instead of heeding their advice, I listened to her and shut them out. I was truly horrible in those last few years, and especially at the end, but fuck, Fawn, I wasn’t evil. I wasn’t this.”

The sight of pity flashing across her mossy gaze has me suddenly stopping, clamping my mouth shut and turning swiftly from her door. I should have never said anything; I should have kept it all inside. These aren’t her problems, and she certainly doesn’t care. My chest aches, and I focus only on that hollow pain as I storm down the hall.

There is no telling how long Arawyn will take to decide Fawn’s fate, so I know I have to begin training her immediately. I need her to make up her mind. If she doesn’t agree to work with me then I still have the whereabouts of her brother to use as a bargaining chip. I don’t know why but for some reason the idea of blackmailing her sours in my stomach. I will if I need to but…I won’t like it.

Exhaustion hits me like a stone when I enter my bedroom and trudge inside. My wings trail along the ground as I methodically strip, moving toward my bed. I crawl under the covers and throw an arm over my eyes, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep. I know training her is going to take more strength than I have.

Strength to resist her infuriating stare, her barbed insults, and that defiant spirit that is begging me to pull more of that burning fight out of her. Strength to resist this undeniable pull I have felt calling me to her. The one I suspect will damn me if I’m weak enough to follow it. I can’t risk it.

I can’t risk her.

My mind drifts toward sleep as it’s filled with thoughts of fierce green eyes that I have no claim to. As I always do on nights when I visit the island, I begin to dream.

Dirt crunches beneath my boots as we leave the pebble beach behind. The moon is full tonight, perfectly lighting the path leading straight into the forest. I turn, studying the rolling tide, trying to distract myself from what I’m about to do. The bag on my back feels impossibly heavy, considering it only holds one small book.

It was surprisingly easy to break into my father’s estate. His power may be vast, but mine has always been greater. I slipped through his wards undetected and passed his guards like a ghost. Opening the door to the royal library was pitifully easy as well. As heir to the throne, a drop of my blood on the lock had the door clicking open. A small bolt of guilt hit me when I realized my father still trusted me enough to not lock me out of this room. I may be his biggest disappointment, but he still considers me his son.

I pushed that guilt aside, refusing to look at it. I am doing this for Sorcia, for the future queen that I want to rule by my side. Sorcia’s description of the book was perfect, and I was able to locate it nearly instantly. I would have never found it if it weren't for her careful instructions. It wasn't stacked among the rows of shelves, but rather locked away in a small chest made of amber stone. It was the first inkling of pause I felt, the first small warning bell.

There is still time to turn back.

The voice in my head is quiet, and it sounds like the voice of Doran. Or perhaps my mother. I ignore that voice as well. It took a great effort, like the chest was trying to fight back, but eventually I broke the lock and unlatched it. I snatched the book, shoving it into my bag before slipping out of the room, and out of the castle entirely.

It took me barely ten minutes to betray my parents.

“Come on, Caden,” Sorcia says breathlessly, giving my hand a squeeze. I jolt, realizing I had been staring off at the ocean, lost entirely in my own thoughts. Her bright blue eyes shine in the moonlight, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in and kissing her. I cup her face, drawing her to me, but she shoves me back, nervous anticipation edging her voice as she says, “Save it for after the ritual.”

She grips my hand again and tugs me after her as we enter the woods. The moonlight cuts through the canopy overhead, dotting the trail with silvery splotches of light. It should be calming, serene even, but instead I am buzzing with nervous tension. My heart is beating wildly in my chest when it hits me all at once:

I’m about to invoke a goddess.

Sorcia leads us to a clearing, dropping her bag in the center and beginning to frantically gather firewood.

“How did you know this clearing was here?”

“My goddess led the way,” she answers in her confusing manner. Before I can question her more, she gestures to the kindling and snaps, “Build a fire.”

I hurry to obey. I’m just as eager to get started as she is. After lighting the fire with a spark of magic, I turn and glance at Sorcia. She is pulling various items out of her pack, laying them out neatly in front of her.

She sets down a silver chalice, etched in runes I’m unfamiliar with. They must be religious relics. I never paid much attention during services at the temple, only ever attending for the high holidays. Beside the chalice is a small, sharp dagger, the blade engraved with the same markings. Strangest of all, is a single long stem rose, blackened and withered with age. All of it rests on top of a blood red silk scarf, runes inked on the surface in black paint.

“The book, Caden,” she demands. I swing my bag off my shoulder and open it, pulling it out. The leather is painted the same blood red as the cloth on the ground. There are no runes etched into this book, but there is a single, long thorn that has been stabbed through the entire thing. I tried to remove the thorn when I first stole the book, after I told Sorcia and she ran off to gather her supplies for the ritual. Even with my considerable strength, I couldn’t get the thorn to budge.

I hadn’t told Sorcia, not wanting to dash her hopes that we wouldn’t even be able to open the book, much less read a spell from it. As I hand her the tome now, she doesn’t seem to be concerned about it. I shouldn’t be surprised, after all she was the one to describe the book being pierced with a thorn. Setting the book on the cloth, she picks up the rose and rips the wilted petals off. Snapping the thorny stem into several small pieces, she drops them one by one into the chalice.

Then, she places her hand gently on the book and looks at it with a devotion I have never seen in her eyes. Closing her eyes she inhales deeply, a triumphant smile gracing her lips as she says, “Soon, my goddess.”