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“No. He wouldn’t do me the favor, knowing full well that I would kill him even under white banners.”
“What if it’s a trap? Barat might mobilize troops as we speak and be foolish enough to lead them down from the north.”
“The capital’s troops are staying put. Lorn and I scouted out the roads leading away from Ammarett wondering exactly that. Roosted along the cliffs on our way back when the storm trapped us in a nearby forest last night. I only just returned.”
That got my attention. “Then whose raven was in Galantia’s chamber last night?”
He frowned at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone’sanoacame to her chamber. I figured it was yours.”
His gaze wandered to Galantia, lips pursing before he shook his head. “Like I said, I wasn’t anywhere near Deepmarsh.”
“Lorn? Heranoaisn’t nearly as clingy as ours. Maybe she sent her back here?”
He thought for a moment. “No. She wouldn’t be so reckless and send her gift through a storm just to scare her.”
“Malyr, Lorn caught her down on her knees, licking your damn knife. You were so distracted, you didn’t even see her coming. We’re lucky we didn’t find ourselves out a hostage the morning after.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose the way he always did whenever Lorn had dared another transgression. “I diverted her attention, did I not? Gave you the opportunity to take Galantia away. And howwillinglyyou jumped at it.”
“Because Lorn is unpredictable and a fucking liability. I don’t understand why you still keep her around.”
A beat of silence, then, “You know why.”
Because Lorn knew that Malyr was responsible for the fall of Valtaris—a secret she loved to hold, and preferably over his head. It would cost him support among our kind should that ever come out. Then there was the fact that, for a time, Malyr had been convinced that she had to be his fated mate, given what they’d been through together. Years ago, he’d desperately tried to bond with her to no avail.
Add to the mess this other thing that had Malyr more troubled than he needed to be. Not that I ever dared to tell him, letting on that I was aware of his concern in the first place. It would be fucking suicide…
All in all, it was pressure enough to keep Malyr loosely by her side, no matter how fucking miserable they were together—each of them seemingly addicted to the loathing they harbored for each other.
“I’m drained, so fucking drained,” Malyr groaned, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Not a day passes without some human lord chasing his daughter after me, and Asker being in my ear about marrying one of them.”
“Humans and Ravens have married and fallen in love with each other since the veil fell.” The shadowed wall that had once separated our worlds, but somehow faded over time for reasons never documented. “It’s an acceptable replacement instead of a bond for many, Malyr.”
“You and I have never seen eye to eye when it comes to humans.” He gave a resolute shake of his head. “I willnevertake a human wife.”
“Then announce adrif.”A traditional celebration, allowing Ravens from across the realm to mingle and, goddess willing, find their mate and begin courtship before the nesting season in the spring.“Ale. Wine. Dancing. We could all do with a good time. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find your mate.”
He lifted his hand to his sternum, fingers clasping thin air as if he’d expected to find something there, only for his hand to sink to his thigh. “War’s no time for adrif.”
I sighed, not even trying to make sense of the fact that Malyr kept putting off an event the House Khysal had held every fall for decades. Centuries, even. One had to wonder if he tried his hardestnotto find his mate…
“Bonding is a rare blessing these days, and you can’t even be bothered to find your fated one. A deathweaver’s mate almost always has the same gift. She could help you control your shadows.”
As always, he dodged the subject, this time by rising and rounding the bed toward Galantia. “What does she smell like?”
I took a deep breath, slowly as not to wake her, inhaling Galantia’s natural scent. “Honeysuckle and parchment.”
He stopped beside her, turning his head this way and that as he stared at her. “Strange combination.”
“She’s a strange bird, Malyr. It’s as if they kept her in a cave all these years. She’s shockingly innocent.” A moment’s consideration. “When she isn’t licking knives, that is.”
“And how well she does it.” Leaning over, he ran a finger over a strand of her hair that followed the curve of her shoulder. “She is surprisingly… resilient.”
I couldn’t tell if the sound that followed in the back of his throat was one of awe or annoyance—probably the latter.As a pathfinder, my gift forced all sorts of conversations on me that I could happily live without hearing. Like the ones where he’d asked Galantia to cry for him. From what I could tell, she wasn’t the hysteric, sobbing sort.
Didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep trying to turn her into one.
