Page 68 of Heart of the Raven Prince

It’s surprising, really, how many things I can make my mind not focus on. Years of training with my father honed my ability to narrow in on a single task, and my life is now putting that training to the test. I’m not thinking about the queen or what torture she is concocting to humiliate Caden and to kill me. I’m not thinking about the fact that my brother could be somewhere in Fomoria, and not safely back in the mortal realm. And I’m certainly not thinking about the fact that Caden kissed me.

I don’t spend hours replaying it in my mind. I don’t ponder the way my body reacted to his, the way it has always reacted to his. I don’t trace my fingers over my lips, feeling for the ghost of his touch. I take each and every one of those impulses and desires, and I lock them away, focusing only on the task at hand:

Killing demons.

After the first leech-like creature attacked me, it seemed to embolden the others, though none were nearly as big, thank the gods. The day after the first attack, we were surrounded by a small swarm of demons, each the size of housecats, with spindly legs and heads like a bat. Caden kept the majority of them at bay, punting one in at a time to let me go at them. They were small, but unimaginably fast, and Caden refused to step in to help, even as they launched themselves at me and stabbed their needle-sharp appendages at my throat.

I suppose his trial by fire method of training has its merits, because after the third creature speared my palm with its limb, the blind rage in my mind snapped. I connected with every member of the remaining horde and snuffed them out like a candle, crushing their red essence in my mind like I did the first demon. After the battle, Caden healed me, touching me only long enough to stitch my skin back together before withdrawing his hand the moment I was whole.

He has not asked to kiss me since, and I certainly haven’t brought it up.

Caden and I sleep in shifts now, which is a torture in and of itself. I’m sitting with my back against the cave wall, my eyes trained on the forest blanketed in night, trying my absolute best to ignore his sleeping form on the other side of the cave. Trying to not think of how it felt when he held me while I slept. I’m twirling a stick in my hand, with the remains of a burnt fish speared on it. After that first disastrous night with the berries, I assumed Caden would return us to his home to fetch supplies.

Instead, he showed me to a stream and began spearfishing. I thought he would take me to the lake I tried to swim in that first night when my mind was addled by those damn berries, but it turns out that “lake” was a deep, rocky ravine that I nearly threw myself into. Yet another thing he saved me from. He might avoid interacting with me outside of training, but he never lets me out of his sight. He only begrudgingly gives me privacy when I absolutely refuse to let him stand guard while I squat behind a tree.

He never touches me if he can help it.

Which is exactly what I want.

I forcefully remind myself as I toss the last bit of the fish into the low burning fire and scrub my hands furiously over my face. We’ve been at this for almost a week, and I can’t tell if I’m making any progress. Every creature that attacks has me growing more used to the feel of my power, but the fights are short-lived and barely grant me much time to practice. I’m good at crushing their burning essence with my mind, but so far I haven’t been able to think fast enough to control a single demon.

I groan softly, shivering as a chill settles in. I’m just moving to stoke the fire, when something flickers beyond the trees. Glancing at Caden, I see his chest rising and falling in deep sleep. I consider rousing him, but if I’ve learned one thing about Caden in this last week, it’s that he barely sleeps, and I haven’t seen him attempt to eat once.

I can understand Yasminda calling him a stubborn man.

The green light winks at me in the woods again, and I slowly rise, picking up my bow and quiver in the process. Creeping from the cave, I nock an arrow and begin to silently follow that blinking green light. Centering myself, I focus on the glowing blue flame of my magic, ready to unleash it on a demon at a moment’s notice as I enter the line of trees. The emerald light winks to my left, and I whip toward it, an arrow at the ready.

A winged woman stands before me.

She’s bathed in ethereal, golden sunlight, no drop of light from the blood moon touching her. She’s draped in a gown made of cobwebs and moss; a twisting crown of twigs and golden ivy is wrapped around her pale teal tresses. Iridescent wings flutter behind her, nearly imperceptible, making it all but impossible to tell their shape. But her eyes…I can’t stop looking at her eyes.

They’re the exact shade of my moss green gaze.

She does not speak, but she begins to approach me, the bright sunshine following as she moves through the crimson night. Coming to stop before me, she reaches out. I think she’s going to touch me, but instead she plucks an arrow from my quiver. Pricking her finger on the end of the arrow, she places a single bead of golden blood on the tip of the arrowhead, smearing it across the sharp point. Gently placing the arrow back in my quiver, she gives me a soft, curious smile, before leaning into me.

She smells like the sunrise, and my eyes flutter closed at the soothing essence that rolls off her. Just when her lips are beside my ear, I hear her inhale softly, as she says, “Little Fawn.” And then she begins to whisper.

“Wake up.” Caden’s gentle voice startles me awake and my eyes snap open. I blink rapidly, confused to find myself back in the cave, leaning against the wall. I guess I fell asleep. Groaning, I rub my eyes, trying to clear the fog of sleep. Looking curiously at Caden I want to ask what’s wrong, but then I see his arm. Runes are cut into his flesh, slowly beginning to heal and leaving behind a trail of blood.

“It’s time, Fawn. We’ve been summoned.”

And just like that there is no more training, there is no more planning. We’re out of time. Swallowing against my suddenly dry throat, I remember what my father taught me and still my mind. We pack hurriedly, an effort that takes very little time, considering we didn’t bring much. Caden is kicking dirt over the fire as I wrap the quiver around my waist. Glancing at him, I make sure his back is to me before pulling out the bunch of arrows and inspecting them. My shoulders deflate when I see they’re all completely normal. I suppose it was just a strange dream. As I place them back in the quiver one catches my eye.

Pulling it closer, I see a twisting vine of ivy painted with precision in bright gold on the arrowhead. My eyes go wide as I study it. There’s every chance it was like this before; I hadn’t inspected the arrows before now. And yet…

“What is it?” Caden asks, startling me.

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “I’m just making sure the points are sharp.” Caden mistakes my awkwardness for nerves, although I have plenty of those as well. Coming up to me, he surprises me by cupping a hand against my cheek and tilting my face to his. It’s the first time he’s touched me since he kissed me. Outside of healing me.

“Remember, Oisín, you are not weak,” he says, taking a step toward me, leaning in to press his lips against my ear. “You are magnificent.”

I inhale deeply, clinging to the scent of him and the way it calms me, hoping I can carry it with me through this next trial that will likely result in my death. He pulls back, dropping his hand as a rift splits the world in two, and the queen’s throne room sits before us. Then there is nothing left to do but cross over and meet my fate with my head held high.

“Look at the little Vessel, all dressed up like a proper warrior,” Lochlan sneers, standing behind the queen who is once again seated on her throne. The court laughs around me. Even the queen smirks. I don't let it in, focusing only on the coming trial. We stop in nearly the same place we did last time, and I feel Caden’s fingers grazing the back of my hand. The gesture does not go unnoticed by Arawyn. Her scarlet gaze narrows on it, before she trains those eyes on not Caden, but me.

“My son is certain of your abilities,” she says, her wings ruffling behind her as she tilts her head, her movements entirely avian. “I’m curious, are you?”

I swallow hard, resisting the urge to pick nervously at my nails. Not trusting my voice, I simply nod. Just once.