Page 63 of Heart of the Raven Prince

“Fucking feathered prick,” I grumble, and the indignant snort I hear in the hallway lets me know he heard it. Snatching the pen up, I grab a piece of paper and stare at it. What do I write? What can I even possibly say to my people to try and explain what is happening, what I have planned, and not give anything away at the same time? Sighing, I glance around for an ink well but find none. Curious, I scratch the pen on the page, my eyes shooting up when I see the dash of ink that follows. Leaning over the page, I write one quick line.

We will light the fires of Bealtine once more.

I’m just folding the page when I hear his thundering boots heading back down the hallway, stomping like an annoyed child.

“That was hardly five minutes,” I call, expecting to hear him say some cutting remark back to me.

So, I’m completely unprepared for the female voice that yelps, “Aoife?”

My head whips up in surprise at Yasminda’s voice. She’s pushing by Caden, who is looking curiously between us as she rushes to me. Standing, I round the desk just in time for her to envelope me in a tight embrace.

“Aoife?” Caden murmurs, quirking a brow at me.

“I was so worried,” she says, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length, looking me over as though she’s checking for any obvious injuries. I notice her taking a long time to inspect my neck. “When I came back and found you missing, I assumed the worst.”

“Since clearly you two have met before, can we move this the fuck along? Or have I done a bad job of expressing how important the necessity for speed is?” Caden calls behind us, tapping his foot to emphasize the point.

“Can you get this to Siobhán and let her know I’m…” I trail off. I was going to say I’m safe, but then I hear Caden’s words swirling in my mind. No one is safe. Giving myself a shake, I quickly amend, “Let her know that I’m alive. That I’m still trying.”

Yasminda reaches out to take the letter, but before she can, Caden has plucked it from her hands and is flipping it open to read.

“Hey,” I shout, reaching to snatch it out of his hands, but he twists easily out of my reach. “That’s private,” I snarl.

“No secrets between friends,” he mutters, folding the note again and handing it back to Yasminda, who is darting her eyes between us. I suppose it’s not often she sees a human going toe to toe with the Raven Prince.

Turning her gaze back to me, she drops her voice as she asks, “Who are you, Aoife?”

“She’s a gods-damned pain in my ass,” Caden answers, gripping Yasminda’s elbow and beginning to guide her toward the door. She glances up at him as he pulls her into the hallway.

“When was the last time you ate?”

His gaze cuts to mine, and I can’t stop myself from covering my neck with my hand. Shame coats his features as he forcefully shifts his gaze away from mine.

“I’m fine,” he says, pulling her down the hallway and away from sight. Crossing to the door, I stick my head out and watch as he opens the front door to let her leave. She’s tucking the letter into a pocket in her deep maroon gown as she tugs on a pair of gloves.

“Do you want me to come back tonight?” she asks, and I can’t possibly imagine why she would offer to—Oh. Oh.

That’s when it hits me.

I look at the mark of a Vessel in her ear, see the casual way she reaches out and touches his arm. Yasminda said being a Vessel grants you protection, and now I understand how she is able to move so freely around the city. She’s under the protection of the most powerful man among both the fae and the vampires.

“I won’t be back for some time,” Caden says, shaking his head. Yasminda sighs and steps away from the door as she utters something that gets cut off when he shuts the door, but I think it sounded something like stubborn man.

Turning from the door, he leans down and picks up the two discarded bags he must have dumped in the hallway after I tried to flee earlier.

“What’s Bealtine?” he asks, holding a pack out to me. This time I take it from him, slinging it over my shoulders and busying myself adjusting the straps so it fits me.

“Who is Yasminda?” I counter.

“How do you know her?” He lobs back.

“How do you?”

“How do you think?”

Well. Fuck. I have nothing clever to say to that.

Shutting my mouth, I refuse to look at him and continue to grip the straps of my bag. He lets out a grunt of frustration, but then turns and looks at the empty hallway before us. A slice of his power shoots out of him, opening a rift and the recognizable scent of a forest hits me. It is murkier, and darker than the evergreen forests of Gaelynn, but the moss and earth undertones are instantly familiar.