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I squinted at a small greenish bruise on my knee as another important question formed in the back of my head. “Where is my gift?”
If I could shift, should I not have one? Or had it not manifested yet, just like it had been the case with Malyr’s mother?
“I cannot say, nor do I care,” Mother said on a scoff as she bundled up the dress. “Gods forbid, it was the only worry that I was spared all these years. Black magic. Evil shadows. Ungodly visions.”
At that last word, my eyes opened wide as my gaze jumped to that satchel dangling toward the flames on the belt, Captain Asker’s voice echoed in my memories,“I beg of you, my lady, return my mate to me.”
Marla!
If she could see the past, like Asker had told me in the corridor at Deepmarsh once, could she also tell me about mine? Could she see my mother? My father? Explain why I had no gift—or, at least none that ever showed itself from what I could tell. I had no amplified senses, no shadows, no visions.
I had… nothing.
“No!” I jumped from the water, getting one leg stuck on the rim of the tub, nearly stumbling straight into hearth before I grabbed it. “Burn the dress if you must, but I need to hold on to this.”
She reached it all toward the hearth. “I want nothing of Raven-making in these—”
I snatched the satchel and yanked it off the belt, the salt stones with deathweaver shadows trapped within them clanking inside. The sound was replaced with thewhooshof the fire as it devoured the dress, followed by the squeak of hinges as Father stepped inside.
His gaze swept from my toes, all the way up to my breasts before he turned around. “Gods, woman… put some cloth on her!”
“Forgive me, my lord, for not having her decent yet.” Mother pulled a folded brown underdress from my old armoire, making quick work of getting me into it.
One arm. Second arm.
Then, I reached behind my back to hide the satchel while my naked foot slid into a graceful curtsy. “My lord Father.”
Clearing his throat, he turned around, his brown hair not marked by a single gray strand, yet his eyes carried dark half-circles beneath them. “You were not supposed to arrive at Tidestone for another week, and now I learned that you stomped through the snow to knock on my gates? What is the meaning of this?”
His sharp tone carried every unspoken accusation.You have failed yet again, Galantia. What a disappointment you are, Galantia. How worthless you turned out to be, Galantia.And so on and so forth…
I held his hazel stare, unable to come up with a somewhat reasonable excuse that would wallow him in the comfort of an alliance with Malyr. After everything he’d done to me, every single Raven out there, and yes, even Malyr, why would I care if Taradur’s forces slit his throat? Drove him out of Tidestone? Why would I offer assistance to any of them?
Because, as it so happened, I was in dire need of a distraction. And what could possibly put Tidestone into greater upheaval than having to prepare for a siege?
“There is no alliance, Father,” I said, clasping the satchel tightly, for I might very well have need of those spells tonight. “The betrothal was nothing but a farce, the grains sograciouslyprovided by Prince Malyr nothing but Taradur’s forces in disguise. They are carting disassembled siege weapons to our walls as we speak. I escaped these… gods-cursed Ravens so I may warn you.”
He stared at me in shock, his pupils flicking across the room as though he was assessing the potential truth of my words and, when they proved reliable enough, he spun and marched out the door. “Ring the bells! Prepare for a siege!”
Father’s footsteps hadn’t even faded when the ear-shatteringding-ding-dingof the bells resonated in Tidestone, bringing a grin to my face. For the first time, they truly rang because of me.
Rang all fucking day long.
ChapterFive
Galantia
Present Day, Tidestone
“Bar the inner gate!” one of the officers shouted through the cresset-lit night, the flames casting orange flickers across every set of panicked eyes that ignored the figure hushing through the shadows. “Archers! Captain Theolif wants every battlement manned with as many of you as it has crenels! Move! Move! Move!”
Hidden beneath a gray cloak and armed with a plan, I hurried along the wall until I reached the familiar hole where several stones had fallen from the mortar many years ago. I wedged myself through—only for the edge to bite into the flesh of my breast. Gods be damned, that hadn’t been an issue ten years ago…
It took a bit of wiggling and deep exhales, but I finally managed myself through. My path continued behind barrels of oil that had been lined up here at some point during the day—undoubtedly to be carried up the battlements to dip and light arrows. Clouds drifted lazily over the moon, keeping me nicely hidden, even against the bit of light reflecting from the trampled snow. Still, I had to be careful…
I crouched, slipping from shadow to shadow until I reached the corner of the barbican that secured the inner bailey. My eyes drifted toward the oaken door framed into the barbican itself. The dungeons. I had an idea for the lock, but no clue if it worked. Putting it to the test out here was too dangerous. No matter, I knew a better way.
Unfortunately, it lay beyond the fire basket that crackled beside the door. It illuminated the gateway, making it impossible for me to go unnoticed by the soldier standing guard by the inner curtain wall across. A woman hushing about the inner bailey wouldn’t be a sight too suspicious, but out here? So close to the dungeons? With the outer gates already barricaded and sealed? It would rouse commotion at best, and get me put before Lord Brisden at worst.
