I still my thoughts, but for one: the panicked flapping of the purported birds, keeping up the charade and the prison Leith will soon find for himself.
The veil twitches over the vague outline of the king’s lips. “What is this gift you bring me?” he asks, his attention drawn to the giant wooden raven.
“Something you desire very much,” I say.
“Ah, then we are of like mind.”
“If by that you mean victory then yes,” I say.
“I like the way you think,” Leith replies.
You are so off base, and creepy, dude. But the longer I keep him distracted and talking, the better chance we have. Villains from movies always seem to love to brag about how evil they are so maybe he’s no different.
“I appreciate you bringing these traitors to me...and yourself.”
“Yes, myself. I’ve come to enter into your service, king.” I try to avoid Soren’s shocked gaze, but my eyes land hard and I say with them what I can’t out loud. Forgive me.
“I’ll gladly use your abilities to my advantage. The Shadow Army needs capable leaders, but—” His attention curls around the way my gaze lingered on Soren a moment too long. “But I see the way you look at him. I’ve seen that look before.” He clucks his tongue. “You either think you’re mighty tricky or you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for his safety. Admirable but foolish.” The fingers of one gloved hand wrap around the other. “So we’re clear, I always claim what is mine.” He laughs darkly.
More like what isn’t yours to take, but not for much longer. And I want Soren to claim what’s rightfully his.
The patrol jostles the four members of the Rising that snuck in with the wooden raven.
“Yes, I know that look and I don’t trust it—love, a sign of weakness. Why do you wish to be in my service?” he asks.
To steal your crown. To make you pay. To clear the throne for the true king.
When I don’t answer right away, a guard’s hands jostle me hard and point blades toward me, daring me to try to struggle or run. Another group of guards train their blades on Soren who backs closer to the giant bird.
I lift my chin defiantly but continue my attempt to win Leith’s favor and get close enough to seize the crown. “Because I know the truth now. I’ve seen what you desire in your dreams. Yes, I can lead the Army of Shadow Fae.” I could, but I didn’t say that I would.
I imagine him smiling grimly under his veil. “And in your dreams, I’ve seen your potential. Yes, you could lead the Army, but what of—?” He gestures vaguely toward Soren.
“It’s nothing,” I grind out. I’ve never been good at lying. It ordinarily almost pains me to do so, but this is agonizing. My mother was incapable of telling anything but the truth when asked, in fact. But the crown means everything and I’ll do what I have to do.
The grim-faced members of the Raven’s Rising that were captured stand in a rigid line, also guarded with weapons.
Leith faces them and hisses, “Make no mistake. I will leave you begging to be thrown into the ashpit.” He wheels in my direction. “Let’s test your loyalty.”
My chest craters because I can only imagine what he intends for me to do.
The patrol dutifully encourages him with a chorus of dark laughter.
“If you’d like to pledge your service to me, you will take a life. Think of it as a trade...”
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll take his.” He points at Soren.
Soren’s eyes widen.
“I’m not afraid,” I say defiantly, feeling the familiar chill sweep over my skin as the snow blows from the sky.
He stops. His veil crimps when he says, “You will be.”
If I were anyone else, I’d believe him. Almost all of the people in Raven’s Landing have bought into fear. He’s persuasive, scary even, veiled in black. His guards obey and follow his command, but I won’t.
He assesses each of the members of the Rising and then selects a husky sized guy I only vaguely recognize from the tavern. “You. Come forth.”
I don’t move.
The guard shoves the man forward.
I can’t meet his gaze.
Leith paces between us. “Years ago, when I came into power, I offered a reward to anyone who captured Torsuld’s ravens. It wasn’t because I was fond of the birds. It wasn’t because I’m charitable and wanted to look after the dreaded things. It wasn’t because I was hoping two young fools would someday bring them to me. Do you know why I wanted the ravens?”
I’m as silent as snow.
“Because I wanted revenge.”
“As do I,” Gerda says, appearing from behind the big wooden bird. Her eyes are as dark as an extinguished hearth.
The patrol remains coiled, awaiting the king’s command, but it doesn’t come. After a long pause, he lets out a gritty laugh. “You, again?” However, his robes billow as though he stumbles with surprise over who he sees.
This wasn’t part of the plan either.
Gerda steps closer to him, her muscles tensed. Her words mimic Leith’s. “It wasn’t that I hated my sister. It was that I didn’t know how to love her. Now it’s too late for that, but it’s never too late for vengeance.” All at once, she springs on the king, casting aside his veil and holding him at knifepoint.
I expect her to recoil at his appearance, but she holds steady.
King Leith’s scarred, paper-like skin bleeds with ink. His eyes are empty wells of darkness.
Gerda presses the knife harder against his throat. “I could do it now,” she hisses.
“It would make no difference. I’m immortal.” He leers.
Two guards grab Gerda’s
