Mark of the Raven Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Half-Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Contents

  Map

  Character List

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  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  List of Pages

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  © 2018 by Morgan Busse

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-1616-5

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design

  Author is represented by The Steve Laube Agency.

  To my son, Philip.

  May you discover who God made you to be.

  Contents

  Cover

  Half-Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Map

  Character List

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

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  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

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  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  Character List

  HOUSE RAVENWOOD

  House of Dreamers

  Grand Lady Ragna

  Caiaphas (consort)

  Selene

  Amara

  Opheliana

  HOUSE MARIS

  House of Waters

  Grand Lord Damien

  Grand Lord Remfrey (deceased)

  Serawyn (consort, deceased)

  Quinn (brother, deceased)

  HOUSE FRIERE

  House of Fire and Earth

  Grand Lord Ivulf

  Raoul

  HOUSE VIVEK

  House of Wisdom

  Grand Lord Rune (brother)

  Grand Lady Runa (sister)

  HOUSE RAFEL

  House of Healing

  Grand Lord Haruk

  Ayaka

  HOUSE LUCERAS

  House of Light

  Grand Lord Warin

  Leo

  Tyrn

  Elric

  Adalyn

  HOUSE MEREK

  House of Courage

  Grand Lord Malrin (deceased)

  Grand Lady Bryren

  Reidin (consort)

  Terric (cousin of Bryren)

  1

  Cold.

  So cold.

  Every breath came out like a faint wisp, a lingering spirit within the sanctuary, only to evaporate into the frozen air.

  Selene pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around her shoulders as she knelt before the priest inside the sacred halls.

  Mother knelt on her left, her head bowed and covered with her dark cloak. Amara, Selene’s sister, knelt to her right. Behind them knelt a dozen other disciples, all garbed in black with hoods pulled over their heads. Wrought-iron chandeliers hung along the lofty sculpted ceiling, their braziers empty of light. Pale wintry sunlight shone across the stone floor from the tall narrow windows on either side of the sanctuary.

  The priest spoke in the old tongue as he walked before the disciples. His dark robes swished along the stone floor, his boots a bare whisper. Incense rose from the golden burner that swung from his gnarled hand.

  Selene’s knees grew numb as they pressed into the stone floor. The incense filled her nostrils, the priest’s words her mind. She did not understand the old tongue, only a few of the words. For as long as she could remember, the morning of every new moon was spent in the sanctuary, and prayers were raised to the Dark Lady.

  The priest stopped in front of Selene.

  She glanced up and blinked.

  Pale, watery blue eyes stared down at her from sunken sockets rimmed in shadow. His head was covered with the mantle of his dark robes, but here and there tufts of woolly white hair stuck out. His nose was long and thin, with only slits for nostrils.

  His eyes widened as he stared down at her in a trance. He began to speak fervently and swung the incense globe in front of Selene.

  Heat rushed through her veins, burning away the chill inside her bones. She glanced at her mother, then her sister from the corners of her eyes. The priest had never done this before.

  Her mother glanced back with the barest hint of surprise on her face. Amara appeared even more shocked under her otherwise cold veneer.

  Selene glanced back at the priest. He suddenly stopped and went stiff. Slowly, he bent over and placed a finger on her forehead. His finger was like an icicle, and she suppressed the urge to shiver.

  “The Dark Lady will be with you tonight,” he said, speaking plainly for the first time. Then he moved his finger across her skin in the shape of a T. A sensation like ice water spread from his finger, across her face, then down her back. Selene shivered this time, and her heart thudded inside her chest. She wanted to stand and run away, but fear kept her in place. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.

  His finger left her forehead, and his eyes returned to their normal watery appearance. He straightened up and started chanting again in the old tongue as he turned around and headed back to the platform at the front of the sanctuary, seemingly oblivious to his trance from moments before.

  Selene clasped her fingers together. She could still feel his cold finger sliding across her skin, marking her with some invisible sign. Did Mother know what it meant? She seemed as surprised as Selene at the priest’s sudden gesture and words.

  What did the priest mean by the Dark Lady being with her tonight?

  The moment the priest finished the benediction, Selene got to her feet. Amara stood as well. Mother continued to kneel with her head bowed. For a moment, Selene wondered if she should wait, but then she turned and left. If Mother wanted to talk, she would come. Selene walked down the long corridor and past the other disciples, ignoring the hooded glances sent her way. Amara followed her toward the back of the sanctuary. The smell of incense continued to hang heavily in the air, filling her head with its overly sweet scent.

  The two sisters exited through the tall double doors and entered the corridor that led toward the main rooms of Rook Castle.

  Every few seconds, Amara glanced at her from beneath her hood, waiting for her to say something, but Selene remained silent. At the end of the hall, Amara grabbed her arm. “Wait!”

  Selene stopped, her lips pressed together.

  “What happened back there?”

  Selene turned and faced her sister.

  Amara pulled her hood back, releasing a cascade of dark aubur
n hair along her shoulders. Though she was loath to show it, there was a hint of curiosity on her otherwise sullen face. “Do you think . . . do you think he was referring to the gifting?”

  If Amara’s words had a physical form, it would be fire. Selene could feel the heat of her sister’s jealousy and the stinging hurt in her question. If the priest’s words were an indication that Selene was about to undergo the gifting, it was another log on the raging inferno between them.

  “I don’t know.” Even those words were hard to form. It was as if the priest had silenced her and her mouth had forgotten how to speak.

  Amara’s face flushed and her hands clenched. “I will have my turn as well. I am also a Ravenwood. You’ll see.” She spun around and hurried to the left, disappearing around the far corner, leaving behind a wake of coldness.

  Selene stood alone in the empty hallway, her throat tight, her gaze lingering where Amara had disappeared. She had always hoped they would serve House Ravenwood together as sisters when they came of age. If only the priest had marked Amara instead. If Amara received the gift first, perhaps it would have breached the chasm that existed between them.

  Instead, a wall stood between them. Amara wanted more. She wanted power. She wanted the prestige of being a grand lady. She wanted what Selene had: the rights of the firstborn.

  Instead, Selene had been born first. And . . . She lifted her hand and rubbed her shoulder. Only inches away, beneath her cloak, was the mark of the raven across her back. No other Ravenwood had borne such a distinct mark. Her mother saw it as a mark of power. To Selene, it was an eternal source of conflict between her and her sister.

  Behind her, the muffled sound of voices and boots indicated the disciples were leaving the sanctuary.

  Selene turned right and headed back toward Rook Castle. She had no desire to be a subject of the congregants’ curious appraisals.

  The farther she drew away from those hallowed halls, the more her feet felt like lead. Amara was right. The priest’s cryptic words were a prophecy of her gifting. But never in the history of Ravenwood had a dark priest done such a thing. Why her? Her gift would come. It had come to every Ravenwood woman since before the time of Rabanna Ravenwood. It was not a surprise. So why the mark on her forehead? Why the utterance?

  What made her gifting different than previous Ravenwood women?

  Selene shuddered and folded her arms across her middle. A feeling of foreboding descended upon her with each second. She knew very little of House Ravenwood’s gift, other than that it involved dreams. But whatever it was, the income it provided helped keep their people fed and clothed when the mines dried up.

  That was good, right? So why the sudden alarm?

  Selene pressed two fingers against the side of her head. Perhaps it was the fact that not only was she specially marked, but the Dark Lady herself would oversee her coming into her legacy.

  “Why me?” she whispered. Her words echoed along the silent hallway, bouncing off the stone walls. No answer came back.

  She let out a long breath and continued on. In her mind, she felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the misty emptiness below. And if she didn’t jump, someone or something would push her. No matter what, there was no choice. She never had a choice. Tonight the gift of Ravenwood would come upon her. Tonight she would inherit her destiny.

  The first pinpricks of pain came at dinner. Selene held still as faint flickers of light flashed across her vision like stars across a night sky, followed by prickles along her scalp. She waited for the lights to disappear as her heart beat faster and the hairs along the back of her neck stood. Through the haze of light, she watched her father as he raised his goblet to his lips. His silver hair was slicked back and his beard was perfectly trimmed, as always.