I laugh. “Of course you are.”
“I promise I will get you a slice when this is over and you’ll fall in love.”
I’ll fall in love. Will I? Am I? “I’ve never felt that way about bread before.” I laugh again...and a part of me doesn’t want this to be over.
At long last, Soren and I make it through the Bogs, visit the shield fae in Landsdowne, who were all too happy to terrify us with their fierce, golden armor, weapons, and sharp eyes as well as fortify us with more honey tea.
When we leave the shield fae’s sturdy wooden lodges and buildings, each carved with knotted symbols: curving, trailing feathers of ravens and symbols of the sun, the moon, and stars, we dip down a hill and walk in silence as daylight disappears behind clouds.
The night before, a shield fae named Kinvara told me she’d met my mother and father. She performed their marriage, in fact. I try to find traction in the words. I can’t imagine my mother getting married. It was always just us.
Kinvara had said, “I bound them with the Blind Vow. An unbreakable, indomitable, forever bond.” I had dozens of questions, but as usual, the fae were dancing. Soren invited me to my feet and I regret leaving the conversation at the table and whirling to the music until I forgot myself.
Right now, with my hand snuggly in Soren’s as we cross a stream, I can’t seem to forget, mostly what I don’t know.
I’d asked Mom about my father a few times. Her eyes turned wistful, dreamy, as though she was still very much in love. But there was a sadness there too like her heart had been broken. At least that’s what I imagined because she didn’t want to talk about it...or couldn’t. But she did tell me how much she’d loved him. What a good heart he had. I wonder if they had a handfasting ceremony like in Briar Knoll. I wonder about vows and bonds and forever. There have been so many questions raised in my mind since I’ve been here I almost don’t know where to begin.
As we approach the ragged mountains, clawing the steel-blue sky, the air cools considerably. I shiver, still dressed in my uniform from work. That seems like ages ago, but it was less than last week. I wonder if my boss is ticked I haven’t shown up for my shifts. Tiffany is probably annoyed there isn’t someone to pick up her slack. My friends are probably worried sick.
But I can’t think about anything other than survival. Strangely enough, a demon and my mother entrusted me with breaking a curse and I have to see it through. Not that I have much choice since I’m also in some alternate realm with no way to return home.
Soren pauses and points at the first mountain peak, interrupting my thoughts. The sun glows from behind a puff of clouds and the moon is a pale orb, a lingering guest. Both frame the slopes of the mountain.
He pauses a moment, gazing upward in thought before continuing the hike. “Legend goes that the first King of Raven’s Landing loved the sun and moon very much. He was honored to serve them and his people. When his beard had grown long and his days short, he requested not to be sent to the Sea of Dreams, as was custom. Rather, he asked to be brought to the highest mountain so he could be closer to the sun and moon. Pleased by his loyalty, they granted him a boon. The sun and moon made him and his people raven shifters and agreed that he would sleep forevermore atop the mountain, but if his people ever needed his help he’d wake and come to their aid.” Soren’s voice has a lullaby quality as he tells the story. “All the kings have since followed suit.”
“So are the old kings ghosts like we saw in Nine Days?” Meeting the ghost mages was enough paranormal activity for one weekend thank you very much.
Soren shakes his shaggy-haired head. “Spirits, I think, is the accurate term. But they’re fearsome and supposedly as mighty now as they were in life. Maybe more so since they’re already dead.” Then he adds, “But they’re not zombies.”
A laugh, something I’ve hardly done since coming to the Borea realm, rises in my chest but doesn’t find its way out of my mouth. “Do you think Torsuld and the ravens are there?” I ask.
“I suppose we’ll find out.”
The strange chatter unique to ravens echoes from the mountains, looming ever closer as though answering. Then the ravens streak from the mountainside, coloring the steely twilight sky black.
Soren’s attention lifts and he seems to grow even taller. A slight smile spreads on his lips.
I blink a few times, intrigued by the sight.
“The ravens were the companions of the kings and battle arms—their eyes above ground. It makes sense that they’d watch over them too. We might be in luck.”
I tumble this story over in my mind as long brown grass gives way to a rocky path. The sky is pale and the peaks of the mountains form dark, jagged lines.
We stop to drink the warm honey tea from Landsdowne and then begin to climb. The loose gravel forming a broad sheet slides down beneath our feet as though the mountain rejects our ascent. We make a circuitous route upwards, switching back and forth to stick to a thin and broken path.
When at last, we reach an outcropping, the last drops of the sun—with its dark spot and distant in the western sky—manages to illuminate Soren with a golden crown and bathe the wide valley below in light. The vista stretches all the way to the sea where Raven’s Landing waits for our return.
With a sudden and wild smile, Soren tilts his head
