This a far cry from when he attacked us, but I return the embrace, relieved to be aligned rather than enemies.
“You said that you’re challenging the silver king.” His chest rises and lowers, the battle rage dissipating.
“We’re on our way back to Raven’s Landing now. We saw his guards marching and you approaching—thought we’d help out.”
“They have no place on our lands.”
“You have a place in ours once we defeat the king,” I say.
“Better for us to return the favor and help you, no?”
“We’d appreciate that. You’re familiar with the silver king’s dark ways. There’s no telling what he’s going to do once we return.”
“We’re all too familiar. Then we shall meet you again in battle for a common cause.” The bearman gives me something of a salute and returns to the other shifters.
“We’ll soon send word,” I reply.
Kiki pops her wings and once more, we take off to the sky. “That was intense,” she says.
“You were amazing.”
She flexes her arm. “Just getting the hang of this. But I kind of like being able to defend myself.”
And I like her. A lot.
Chapter 22
Ineke
When my regret and adrenalin from the brush with the guards dissipates I’m all tingles. Soren’s arms wrap tightly around me as we continue to fly toward Raven’s Landing. How does this work with him exactly? The way his lips moved with so much confidence tells me clearly that he’s done this before. The kiss, although brief, could’ve carried me to infinity. Instead, I forgot that I was trying to fly at the same time and almost sent us plummeting to our deaths.
If it weren’t for the compass I’d be spinning wildly—north, south, deeper within. Everything inside rushes and whirls like the snow in the wind. The kiss was strong and smooth, warm and soft. It’s something I’ll never forget. My heart is all fluttery and not only because I’m flying.
“I’m flying,” I shout into the incoming clouds, heavy with snow, when I really want to yell I kissed Soren!
“...Right into the unknown.” Soren’s voice is rougher than before. “How about we hang the king?”
“Barbaric.”
“Exactly. What about putting him in his own dungeon.”
“He’d probably like it there,” I reply.
We both laugh.
“You’re cruel,” he jokes.
“You’re right; these are terrible, disturbing, despicable suggestions and are too good for Leith. We need to come up with something truly hideous.”
Soren smiles at my joking as we continue; the subject matter not quite as stark as the clean and bright landscape as snow blankets the world below. I turn over ideas and possibilities in my mind.
He says, “The problem is reaching him.”
“We could lure him out with a giant doll dressed up like a beastly demon queen and he’ll fall madly in love and then we can push him into the ashpit or send a flock of ravens to peck his eyes out.”
“Wait. You might be on to something. Long ago, during Hallowtide, before the king took power, they’d have a strawmen parade.”
“Strawmen?” I ask.
“Trotter told me a story about how people would build these giant figures out of straw, wood, and cloth. Supposedly it was very impressive how they’d move along the streets as though they were walking.”
“Interesting,” I say, not sure what the connection to the king is.
“When they’d reached the harbor, they’d—” He makes an exploding sound, tickling the hair on my neck. “The people hidden inside would explode out, tossing treats and candies to everyone.”
“Brown bread?”
“Squares of it wrapped in paper. At least, that’s what Trotter told me.”
“Are you thinking we try to trick the king into thinking one of these strawmen are real? And shower him with—?”
“Us, hidden inside,” Soren says. “To sneak into the castle grounds and then surprise attack.”
“I don’t think we could get a man, real or fake, past the guards,” I say.
Just then, a gurgling kraa sounds in the distance. Another raven answers.
“But maybe we could get a giant bird through the gates. A wooden raven.”
“He hates ravens,” I say, wondering if there are invisible roads in the sky I should be following so I don’t have a collision with a bird.
“Exactly. We could claim we captured the ravens and trapped them in a wooden cage shaped like a raven.” Soren narrows his eyes in thought.
“There’s some odd, ironic poetry in that.”
“Like it or not, he’s a king and we need to do something outrageous or he won’t be inclined to allow us an audience. This might be something we can work with.”
A story from an English literature class comes to mind. “Ah, so we’re doing this Trojan horse style only Trojan raven.”
“Uh, sure,” Soren says.
As I continue to fly, I tell him the story of Odysseus.
The night sky is a sparkling ceiling over the carpet of snow. Tension grows the closer we get to the border of Raven’s Landing. I force myself forward, thankful the magic of flying for a full day is not as exhausting as the trek back would’ve been.
At last, we stop on a hill outside Raven’s Landing. Taking the last sips of the still-warm honey tea, we decide to take a break and observe for activity and avoid patrols.
Soren’s eyes skip over the sooty buildings staining the snowscape and his attention drifts to the sea. “I sometimes feel like my dad’s still here with me and we could just float away.”
“When I was flying, I felt like my mom was by my side.” I sigh.
Soren’s arm laces across my shoulders and I settle against him.
Something on the hillside of the Roost catches my attention. “What’s that?” I ask.
“That’s the Roost where you tunneled through. I’ve thought about taking
