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“You’re giving me a headache, old man. She’s still breathing, isn’t she?”
“You need to protect her from him.”
Protect her.
Those two words stalled my feet, my heart, my lungs. If the past had taught me anything, it was that no woman should count on me to keep her safe.
I looked at Galantia, but eventually shook my head. “Her safety is your problem now.”
My shift surged through me with an onslaught of sounds and smells, achy wings pushing us into the current coming from between the trees before it carried us away. Everyone I’d once vowed to protect was rotting away in graves—if they had graves at all.
That was how well I’d done it.
ChapterSeven
Galantia
Present day, Deepmarsh Castle
Heavy. Convex. Sharp.
I balanced the silver knife on the palm of my hand where I stood by the small table near the crackling hearth, watching how the flames reflected on the pointed tip. It had appeared along with a loaf of rye bread, cheese, and blackberries a good while ago. The latter, I’d immediately devoured. It had all been served by a young Raven girl shortly after I’d woken in this chamber—a room appointed with a large oaken bed, heavy blue drapery, and a wooden screen that hid a set of upholstered couches.
How long had I been here? One day? Three? Five? I had no idea.
After Malyr’s assault, I’d succumbed to a restless sleep, teetering between consciousness and delirium. Ones filled with hushed voices, fingers touching my throat, faces staring down at me.
And wingbeats.
Always wingbeats.
Lowering the knife back to the plate, I turned my head toward the door. The Raven girl had filled me a bath and laid out a simple blue dress—which I wore now—leaving me behind without a word spoken, and without a lock or bar thumping in place on the other side of that door.
My heart beat faster the longer I stared at it. I didn’t dare open it. Didn’t dare find out what awaited on the other side. Black-haired Ravens, undoubtedly, lots of them.
I walked over to the window beside the four-poster bed and leaned my temple against the cool pane. Even for someone who’d seen nothing of the realm, it had been easy enough to figure out that they’d transported me to Deepmarsh Castle.
Because I was in a castle.
Surrounded by deep marsh.
Miles upon miles of dark green wetlands spread out before my eyes, dotted with brown reeds, tall purple grasses, and red-tipped rushes. Soggy, cold, impassable. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could run from this place, a coddled highborn with no idea which way lay Ammarett.
No, I needed to come up with another plan. For that, I needed to know what exactly they wanted with me. These Ravens probably held me for ransom, for I had no other value to offer that would justify the warm room, the meal, the dress.
The very fact that I was still alive.
Lorn had mentioned the escape of ‘that golden bitch.’ Obviously, she’d spoken about Mother. She was alive; a fact that relieved me more than it should, considering that they’d left me behind…
My fingers wandered to my throat, brushing over those bruises that were dark enough I could see them in my reflection on the pane. They span across the entire area in broad lines, narrow tangles, and dots speckled here and there. Why had this… Lord of Shadows—Malyr—attacked me so viciously?
Not for the first time since I’d woken, I pressed down on the marbled skin. A dull ache flared up, yet I held the tension. Paid close attention to how the sensation spread, how it turned from a dull ache to a sharp twinge. It was strangely intriguing, this… pain.
At the upper edge of my vision, something dark came into view on the other side of the window. It swelled. Grew large. Larger still.
Thud!
I jerked my head back, heart jumping from chest to throat at its next beat. Claws screeched over glass. Wings flapped. Before I could blink, the black bird disappeared from sight.
