The bridge lowers, and we cross. The water in the moat rushes over the rocks below and despite my winter layers, a chilly unease coats my skin.
The patrol takes our weapons, including the sword Kiki got from Vespertine.
Invisibly, she uses her powers to move the heavy, giant bird, filled with ten of Raven’s Landing’s strongest fighters, up the cobbled path. As we make progress, she coughs intermittently, the ravens call, and their wings brush against the cage, keeping up the charade.
Torches burn low as we wind toward the central court at the foot of the main entrance to the castle. The towers stab the sky. The windows are dark and the wide, wooden doors remain closed.
The patrol flanks the raven and the mage walks ahead of us with her hands folded behind her back.
Fjallhold looms more massive and imposing with each step. The walls lining the path to the central court swirl with sooty carvings: beaks and wings, mountains and trees, the sea and sky. Fjallraven must have once been brilliant: a beacon of strength and abundance.
Instead of balking, a surge of energy rises inside of me.
We come to a stop at the foot of the stone stairs, leading to the carved door. The birds’ wings beat against the inside of the wooden cage and their frantic calls compete with Kiki’s barking cough as part of our ruse.
The patrol nearest us surreptitiously shift away.
“She’s been sick. There was a storm during our journey and she fell ill,” I explain.
Kiki leans heavily against me. The cough shudders through her, agitating the birds, and masking the pattering of feet on the cobbles as a few of the Raven’s Rising make their escape from the cage.
“We were hoping, in addition to the sum for the birds, the king could also provide her with a healer.” We play the roles of innocent young lovers quite well.
Glandias scoffs and then says, “You’ll wait here and not bring your pestilence upon the king.”
I expect the doors to sweep open.
We wait for him to appear.
The dim gray of morning creeps across the sea on densely packed clouds. The black raven, camouflaged under the blanket of night, takes shape against the lightening sky.
I listen for footsteps as the members of the Rising tread lightly over the cobbles to grant access to the other members through storm drains and unattended guard shacks. I glance into the corners, seeking the assuring blink of an eye, telling me everyone is in position when Kiki coughs violently. I grip her hand.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
The clouds roll closer. Sparse snowflakes whirl in the sky and drift smoothly down.
Someone shouts, breaking the relative quiet.
Guards shove four of the Rising onto the stone steps who were hidden inside the raven. They don’t search the wooden bird, so they must not realize where they came from, but this doesn’t bode well.
All at once, King Leith emerges from the castle doors. He is a thin, gliding shadow, veiled in black and appearing behind the guards and captives like a specter. His silver crown with its glinting stone is the only thing breaking the darkness ensconcing him.
The snow falls harder now, painting the black raven white.
Chapter 26
Ineke
My first thought: Scriv betrayed us, informing the guards of our plan.
My second thought: since the mage and patrolmen haven’t seized us, then they don’t know the extent of our trickery.
My third thought: I’ll fool them all and deceive the king myself.
The ravens flap, the sound thrown from some secret place inside me to the wooden enclosure, reaching the ears of the king and his men.
I slip my hand from Soren’s and step forward.
From behind me, Soren gasps physically rather than audibly.
Walking up the stone steps to address the king was not part of the plan. We agreed that Soren was to do the talking. During the long hours that I fought sleep, I avoided the drop into dreams, concerned that the king would see the strategies and secrets woven into my thoughts. Instead, I picked over and pulled apart everything that’s transpired since I arrived in this realm, including Vespertine’s comments, Soren’s dreams—ones he may not even remember—and the message from the demon.
Demons shadow thieve, while the fae court grieve. Four sisters to find. One compass to bind. Four crowns to take. One curse to break. Before twelve moons turn, else the realm will burn.
I will find my sisters and rid the realm of false kings and demons. I have the compass. I need the crown with its shimmering jewel. I will break the curse. But first, these people need their rightful leader.
“Your majesty,” I say, feigning respect.
“At last, you’ve come,” Leith replies from beneath the gauzy black fabric. His tone is a delighted thrill at my appearance within his stronghold as though I’m bendable to his will.
Our voices are strangely amplified; either through some construct of the castle and the walls funneling toward Raven’s Landing or through his power, I’m not sure. But I do know everyone can hear us by the way they stare, attentive at the scene unfolding on the castle steps.
Leith dips his head and I sense his probing energy trying to get into my mind. “You’ve been brazen fae girl, first coming to Raven’s Landing without so much as a proper hello and then escaping these walls with a young, inked criminal.” His head shifts subtly in Soren’s direction.
Raven’s Landing is like a giant cage.
The people are flightless beneath a sky laden with snow.
There is nothing I want more for them than freedom and an end to Leith’s violence. I may have wanted to be a Police Officer, but in this instance, I’ll turn to my training as a Peace Officer to prevent more
