Mark of the Raven Read online

“Yes.” Damien sat behind his desk inside his study, a quill in his hand as he finished one last missive to House Vivek. “I’m not heading to the summit to show off. I’m heading there to unite the Great Houses against the rising encroachment of the Dominia Empire.”

  “You know your opinion will not be popular. The Great Houses have functioned independently for hundreds of years. They won’t want to start working together now. And you also know there has been a rise in deaths amongst the lesser houses across the nations. It’s only a matter of time before whoever is behind these murders will go after one of the grand lords. I would feel more comfortable if we had more guards with us.”

  Damien placed his quill back into the jar. “That is the second reason I am going to the assembly—to talk to Caiaphas about these recent murders. I think they might be connected.”

  “Do you think the empire is behind them?”

  Damien shrugged. “If they are, they are working with someone, or someones, on the inside.”

  “Who has that kind of skill and connections to move between the different nations? Do you think it’s one of the Great Houses?”

  Damien shrugged again. Taegis asked good questions. Whoever was behind these attacks, they were good, and they were able to move across borders and into the very strongholds of each house, which could definitely indicate someone inside one of the Great Houses. But who? And why? What did they have to gain in allying themselves with the empire?

  “Caiaphas has been investigating a secret group for years, a group whose aim is in achieving power. I’m hoping that the letter he sent and his request to meet means he might have some information for us. The assembly gives me the perfect cover for visiting him.”

  “I still think we should bring a few more people.”

  Damien shook his head. “I want to travel fast and light. More guards and servants would mean more people I would need to look after.”

  Taegis huffed. “And who will be looking after you?”

  Damien flashed him a smile. “You.”

  “And why a monk?”

  “Abbot Dominick is considering Cohen as his successor, but the young man needs to see more of the world first. This trip will be a good chance for him to see the other nations and people beyond our border.”

  “Cohen? You mean that tall, gangly monk? The one with hair that looks like a thatched roof?”

  “Yes.”

  Taegis laughed and dropped his arms. “Cohen looks nothing like a monk, and certainly not like the future abbot.”

  Damien’s lips twitched. “True, but the young man has a kind heart and cheerful spirit. He might be just what the abbey needs. Father Dominick certainly thinks so.”

  “Well, no one can say that Father Dominick is a stick in the mud. I think he sometimes irritates some of his more faithful followers.”

  Damien stood and straightened the letter before carefully folding it. “That’s probably why I like him. He’s willing to give anyone a chance. Much like the Light of the old ways.”

  “Indeed.”

  Taegis grew quiet as Damien dabbed a small bit of wax on the crease and pressed his ring into it.

  “So I can’t convince you to bring more men?”

  Damien picked up the letter. “I’m afraid not. We’ll travel faster with just the five of us.”

  Taegis let out a sigh. “All right, then. I’ll make the preparations for the trip.”

  “I would like to leave before the first day of Harvest.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  Damien stopped in front of Taegis before leaving the study. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Taegis bowed.

  Damien headed for the aviary at the top of one of the towers. Taegis might not agree with all of his decisions, but when all was said and done, Taegis followed through. It couldn’t be easy taking orders from a man half his age.

  Damien ran a hand through his hair as he walked up the circular flight of stairs. Sometimes he felt like he was in over his head. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to learn what it meant to be a grand lord before his father passed away. Taegis counseled him when he could, but it wasn’t the same. Only Father had fully born the mantle of leading House Maris and its people.

  His chest grew tight. He missed Father, Mother, and Quinn. Just when he thought he had moved on, something small would trigger a memory and his heart would grow heavy.

  Damien reached the top of the tower where a half-dozen falcons waited inside a circular room with wide, open windows, each bird trained to deliver messages to each of the Great Houses. Fresh hay lay across the ground, and an older man stood near one of the windows, shoveling the area beneath the massive perches.

  “Rufus, I have a letter for you.”

  The old man straightened and turned with the shovel in his hands. His silver hair was pulled back in a short tail behind his head, and his tunic and pants were stained from work and sweat. He wore a long leather glove across his right hand and arm. “My lord,” he said and bowed his head while resting his hands on the top of the shovel handle. “I did not hear you come in.”

  “I needed to stretch my legs, so I thought I would deliver the letter to you personally.”

  Rufus looked up and smiled. “Where might your letter be heading today?”

  “House Vivek.” Damien held out the folded parchment.

  Rufus placed his shovel aside and reached for the letter. “Sonya’s ready to fly.”

  Damien frowned. “Sonya? I thought the falcon that delivered to House Vivek was Victor.”

  “It has been a while since my lord has visited the aviary. I’m afraid Victor passed away last spring, but Sonya was ready to fill in by then.”

  Damien looked around the aviary. Rufus was right, it had been a while since he’d come up to the tower. Fond memories of him as a little boy hurrying up the circular stairs so he could watch Rufus train the falcons spread across his mind. Sometimes Quinn came with him, hollering for Damien to slow down so he could catch up.

  Damien smiled sadly as his throat tightened at the memory. Light, he missed Quinn. His little brother had been three years his junior and always tagged behind Damien wherever he went. Sometimes he found his little brother irritating, but most of the time he didn’t mind the company.

  What he wouldn’t give to have Quinn with him now, even with his incessant questions and energetic ways.

  “Everything all right, my lord?” Rufus asked.

  Damien blinked and brought his mind back to the present. “Yes. Just thinking.”

  Rufus watched him for a moment, then nodded to himself and turned. He reached for the falcon resting on the perch to his left. The others preened themselves and one took off through another window, probably out to search for its meal.

  Sonya was much larger than Victor had been and a beautiful specimen with her white chest and dark head and wings. She waited patiently as Rufus folded the letter twice over, then placed it inside the little box strapped to her chest. He stepped back, held out his right hand covered by the leather glove, and let out a small clicking sound with his tongue.

  Sonya hopped from her perch to his arm. He walked toward the nearest window and held out his arm. He gave a couple more clicks, and Sonya took flight.

  Damien came to stand beside Rufus and watched Sonya soar upward before taking off in a easterly direction, high above the cedar trees that lined the coast. “She’s beautiful,” he murmured.

  “One of my best,” Rufus replied.

  Damien watched as she disappeared in the distance. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be a bird, with no responsibilities other than to hunt and fly. In his mind, birds represented freedom.

  However, that was not the life he had been given. Instead, he had been born heir to House Maris, and the duty to take care of his people lay squarely on his shoulders, which meant stepping up and engaging the other houses at the upcoming assembly about the encroachment of the empire. He wasn’t sure how much they would listen to someone as young as he was
, but he had to try. He didn’t want to live to see another razing like the one hundreds of years ago, or watch another house fall like House Ravenwood.

  Not if he could help it.

  15

  The next day, Selene gathered up the books Father had lent her and headed out into the hallway. Servants rushed by, preparing the castle for the influx of guests as the Assembly of the Great Houses drew closer. Rugs were beaten, bed linens were changed in rooms that hadn’t been used in years, and the windows were washed. The servants appeared enthusiastic about the upcoming gathering, despite the extra work.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the lords and ladies of House Luceras,” one of the servant girls said as she dusted an ornate picture frame. “I’ve heard they have hair the color of gold!”

  “And their warriors are the famous paladins of light. Even the women are trained to fight!” the other servant said.

  “I’m more excited to see House Rafel,” said another servant girl quietly. “Lady Ayaka is said to be the most beautiful lady ever.”

  “I heard Lady Adalyn Luceras is the most beautiful lady.”

  “I think our own Lady Selene is the most beautiful,” one of the servant boys chimed in as he hefted up a rug.

  “Perhaps,” the first girl said. “But she’s not the same. Not anymore. She reminds me of Lady Ragna now.”

  “She’s even colder than her ladyship,” the second girl said.

  “Aye,” agreed the servant boy.

  Selene hurried through the corridor before the servants realized she was there, her throat tight. Had she really changed that much over the summer, with each dreamwalk? Was she as cold as they said she was?

  Like her mother?

  “What are you doing with all of those books?” Amara’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  Selene slowed and glanced to her left. Amara stood in the juncture between the two main hallways. She still wore her riding habit, and her cloak was muddy along the fringe. She pulled her hood back and let her auburn hair loose. Every day Amara looked more and more like their father.

  Selene shifted the books between her arms. “Amara. I thought you and Mother were supposed to arrive back this evening.”

  “We made good time.” Amara flashed her a nasty smile. She probably thought she could make Selene jealous with a reminder that she had been chosen to accompany Mother and Selene had not.

  Selene sighed internally. Her sister had no idea what awaited her when her own gift came. A part of her grieved for her sister. If only Amara knew that she cared. “How was your trip?” she asked, wanting to make light conversation.

  Amara tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “I spent a good deal of time with Lord Raoul. He is not the same annoying little boy who used to come visit when we were young. Part of the reason we visited the House of Fire was to discuss the possibility of a stronger alliance.”

  “Stronger alliance?” Selene’s eyes widened. “You mean a marriage alliance?”

  Amara smiled. “Yes. And since I am not the eldest”—Selene noted the lack of bitterness for once—“I am a candidate.”

  “A candidate? To marry Lord Raoul?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that something you want?” Selene couldn’t picture Raoul as anything but the stuck-up son of Grand Lord Ivulf who had a cruel side, especially toward animals.

  Amara folded her arms. “I don’t plan on being married to some lesser house. I have higher goals. Marrying into House Friere would enable me to be a grand lady—an opportunity I lack here.”

  Selene placed the books against her hip. “Did Mother say you were a candidate?”

  “Not exactly,” Amara fudged and looked away. “But why else would she have brought me?”

  Selene frowned. Did Amara really not know their mother? Or did she only see what she wanted to see? There were many reasons Mother would have brought Amara. But to marry Lord Raoul?

  Even though she knew she would be forced to marry someday, Selene hoped her consort would be a man she could eventually learn to love. Or at least tolerate, unlike the relationship Mother and Father shared. She had a feeling Raoul Friere had not changed from the malicious boy she had known, and she would not wish him as a partner on anyone, not even her sister, despite how much they disagreed.

  Perhaps Mother wanted to talk to Lord Ivulf before the assembly. Their houses were close. By why bring Amara? Unless . . .

  She remembered their fight over Renata. Maybe Mother was changing her mind about Selene. Mother could not control her, Selene had made that quite clear. On the other hand, Amara would do anything to be Mother’s right-hand daughter. Was Mother secretly grooming Amara to carry on the family heritage, even though Amara’s gift had not yet come?

  Selene narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she thought of that.

  “What are the books for?” Amara repeated, interrupting her thoughts.

  Selene glanced down as if noticing them. “I was reading up on the Great Houses before the assembly.”

  Amara raised an eyebrow. “Find out anything interesting?”

  Selene shook her head. “No, not really.”

  Her sister smirked. “Well, I’m off to change.” She turned before Selene could say another word and headed off toward her bedchambers.

  Selene tightened her grip on the books and continued toward her father’s study. She found the door slightly ajar, so she pushed it open. Sunlight poured in from the nearby windows. The air was hot and muggy and smelled faintly of Father’s pipe. She crossed the room toward his desk, then she heard faint voices coming from the room next door.

  Frowning, she placed the books on her father’s desk. Who could Father be talking to? As she turned to leave, she heard her name. Selene stopped. She glanced toward the wall from which the voices were emanating. Her name was mentioned again. By Mother.

  She bit the bottom of her lip. I should leave. Nothing good comes from overhearing private conversations. But with the way her body pressed against the bare wall near the bookshelves, she had already decided to eavesdrop.

  It was Mother and Father. That alone piqued her curiosity. They hardly ever spoke to each other . . . and in Father’s bedchambers, no less. Mother never visited Father as far as she knew. So why now?

  “Are you sure this is the right time?” her father said, his voice muffled through the wood paneling.

  “Every house will be here for the assembly. It’s the perfect time. Selene is old enough to be married. And an alliance with House Friere would make our ties stronger with the House of Fire.”

  “House Friere is bringing members of their lesser houses?”

  “No. The negotiations would be between myself and Grand Lord Ivulf.”

  “So neither Selene nor her future consort would have a say?”

  Selene could almost hear the bitterness in her father’s voice, even though by his own admission, he had chosen to marry Mother. Did he regret his choice?

  “Those decisions are always made by the heads of the houses. You know that,” her mother replied.

  Selene winced at her mother’s callous words.

  “Why House Friere?” her father asked moments later. “We already have a strong relationship with them. What about, say, House Maris?”

  “House Maris?” her mother said, her voice rising. “We have no reason to align ourselves with them. And there is no eligible male.”

  “There is Lord Maris himself.”

  There was a long pause. Selene could almost imagine her mother’s face, the way it grew dark and severe when she was angry, marring her beautiful features. “We do not marry other heads of houses.”

  “Why? Some of the other houses do, and it has benefited them both.”

  “You know why.” Now it was Mother’s turn to sound bitter. “Since the razing, my forebearers and I have kept our gift a secret. I will not allow our ability to be tainted by the gifts of others, or worse, be completely wiped out by another bloodline. Selene is the heir to the Ravenwood gift and wil
l have complete control of our house someday. Secrecy has served our family for hundreds of years, and it will continue to keep our family safe. She will have a consort from a lesser house and preserve the dreamwalking gift. And no one will ever know it still exists.”

  “Except for the consort,” her father replied.

  “That is something I cannot control, but I can control who that consort is. Besides, what has House Maris ever done for us? Nothing.”

  Her father sighed faintly. “And when will this union happen?”

  “In the next year. We are narrowing down the choices.”

  Selene felt like the air had been punched from her lungs. Her future—all the years left to her—was being decided on the other side of this wall. And she had no say in it. She would be bound to some man she didn’t know, and most likely end up like her parents, distant and aloof from her partner in life.

  “So why are you telling me all this?” her father asked.

  “I came here because she is your daughter, too, and I thought you might want to know. But perhaps I was mistaken.” There was a rustle as her mother stood up.

  “Thank you,” she heard her father say, his words soft through the wooden paneling.

  Mother never replied and moments later, there was the soft thud of a door shutting.

  Selene knew she should go, but she couldn’t make her body move. Her mind was feverishly working through the words she had just heard while her heart swelled with love for her father. Always gracious, even under Mother’s harsh and unkind attitude.

  She swallowed and dropped her head. She did not want to marry a man associated with House Friere. Truth be told, she didn’t want to marry at all and burden a future daughter with this terrible gift of dreamkilling and secrecy. But Mother would not allow that. House Ravenwood must endure, which meant producing the next generation of Ravenwoods.

  And if she didn’t, Amara or Opheliana would, and Selene would be discarded, the spinster daughter of Ravenwood, despite her powerful abilities.

  Selene looked up. There were no choices for her. Either she became the woman her mother wanted her to be, inheriting the task of assassination and producing the next heir, or fade away.