Flight of the Raven Page 16

  “Maybe I’m imagining it,” she whispered to the darkening room. Night was quickly coming, and the only light came from the burning embers in the fireplace. A servant would be by soon to tend the fire for the night. “Then again . . .”

  She stood and brushed her gown aside and turned toward the door. She would consult the dark priest. Perhaps the Dark Lady knew what was happening to her—if something was happening.

  Lady Ragna swept down the corridors of Rook Castle, ignoring the looks from guards and servants. Snow fell outside the windows, and a chill began to take hold of the castle as winter settled in across the Magyr Mountains. As she walked along the halls, she turned her focus on her plans for the weeks ahead. It was time for Amara to take her final test with her dreamwalking gift. The girl was ordinary and mediocre when it came to her gift, but she would suffice for the upcoming missions. She wasn’t the first Ravenwood woman to simply carry the gift and nothing more. Unlike Selene . . .

  Selene.

  Her lips turned upward in a snarl. So much power. So much potential. And that traitor threw it all away.

  She took in a long draught of air and let it out slowly. Nothing could be done about it now. She would finish training Amara and ensure that this time the job was finished and death was dealt. Not like that mistake with that servant girl, whatever her name was.

  Then there was the empire.

  A raven arrived yesterday with a coded message that Commander Orion was preparing his troops for when spring came, and the few men and women who were on this side of the wall were already arranging for his arrival. All she needed to do was keep the Great Houses in disarray and make sure they didn’t band together.

  That’s where Amara would come in handy.

  She reached the outer doors to the sanctuary and walked inside. The air was even chillier in here, like the ice caves to the south, where even on a hot summer’s day ice still formed along the ground and walls. She half expected to see ice adorning the obsidian pillars, but they were as black as ever without a glint of moisture. Twilight trickled in from the high windows above, pooling on the stone floor below. The platform ahead was empty. But not for long. She knew the priest came here every evening to light the candles for the Dark Lady. He would be here soon.

  Sure enough, as she approached the platform, the small door to the right opened, and a lanky robed figure exited. He held a thin stick in one hand with a tiny flame at the top. He never glanced her way. Instead, he crossed to the retable, stopped, and began to light the candles.

  Lady Ragna pulled her skirts back and went down on her knees before the platform, her head bowed in submission.

  “Lady Ragna,” the dark priest said after a moment. “What brings you to the sanctuary?”

  “A question,” she said, eyes on the stone floor. “And wisdom from the Dark Lady.”

  The priest did not answer.

  Lady Ragna looked up. The priest continued to light the candles along the retable. Silence stretched across the sanctuary. Only once all the candles were lit did the dark priest finally turn around. His hair was hidden beneath the cowl of his robe, and his face appeared gaunt within the shadow of the hood. “What is your question?” he asked as he brought his hands together within the folds of his robe.

  “Is there a change going on within me?”

  He stared at her with pale blue eyes—so pale he almost appeared as a blind man. Then his eyes shifted above her, trance-like. Was he speaking to the Dark Lady? Lady Ragna wanted to turn around and see her patroness for herself, if the Dark Lady was indeed behind her, but reverence cautioned her to remain where she was. The Dark Lady was powerful, and Lady Ragna wanted that power on her side.

  The priest’s eyes came back into view. He looked down at her, his hands still clasped in front of him. “The downfall of your house has begun. Your eldest daughter now surpasses you in power.”

  Lady Ragna kept her head level with the platform as she glanced up at the priest. “What do you mean?”

  “There has been a shift in authority. The headship of House Ravenwood has changed. It no longer belongs to you.”

  Lady Ragna felt like her breath had been knocked from her chest. She reached up and clutched the front of her dress, her mouth gaping like a fish left on the dock, gasping for air. “Wh-what do you mean? Headship can only change when the previous grand lady passes away.”

  The priest looked down from his place on the platform. “Or when someone with great power—greater power than yours—comes into her gift. That has always been the way with the Great Houses.”

  Selene . . . was more powerful than she? Of course Selene was powerful; Lady Ragna had known that since the moment she laid eyes on the mark on her infant daughter’s back. But powerful enough to interrupt the natural flow of power within a house?

  What did this mean for her? For House Ravenwood? For her alliance with the Dominia Empire? “Does Selene know?”

  “No. Your daughter is ignorant of the change. At this moment, the Dark Lady is in pursuit of your daughter. Perhaps not all is lost.”

  The Dark Lady was pursuing her daughter? The thought sent a chill down her spine. Deep inside, even she feared the patroness of her house, despite the power the dark one provided for Ravenwood. But if the Dark Lady could bring Selene—and her powerful gift—back to their cause, then it was worth it. But . . .

  “What if my daughter chooses another way?”

  “Then your house will fall.”

  The fire that had been ebbing away within her chest came roaring back to life. Lady Ragna slowly stood, drawing on the power and strength not only of her own will, but that of every Lady Ravenwood who had served before her, all the way back to Rabanna. “That is not an option.”

  The priest bowed in acquiescence, a slight smile to his thin lips. “It is the strength of the Ravenwoods—your desire to survive, no matter the cost—that drew the Dark Lady to your ancestor hundreds of years ago. Hopefully your strength will prove greater than that of your daughter.”

  Lady Ragna gazed back at the priest. “It will. Because if Selene doesn’t turn back”—she clenched her jaw—“then I will take care of her myself.”

  19

  Who are you?”

  Only silence answered Selene within the dreamscape. The candlelight moved along the corridor of Northwind Castle until it faded around the corner.

  What was that light? And why did it always leave her?

  Selene watched it disappear, then lowered her head and stared down at her translucent body. Why was she here again? As she moved her fingers, she stretched out her senses, feeling along the dreamscape, searching for the sleeper.

  It felt familiar. And powerful. Cool, like the mist that covered the Magyr Mountains on an early spring morning.

  It felt like . . . her.

  Her head shot up, but before she could think on it further, there was a rustling sound behind her.

  Selene froze.

  Swish. Swish. Like a dress across the stone floor.

  Slowly, she looked back.

  The Dark Lady moved between the patches of moonlight along the corridor, her body and face covered in dark fabric. The hood fluttered for a moment around her face, revealing lips black as night. “Little raven,” she whispered.

  Selene stared at the ghoulish figure. She opened and closed her lips, but she couldn’t speak. Only one word entered her mind.

  Fly.

  She twisted around, burst into her raven form, and flew down the hall where the light had disappeared moments ago.

  She was caught between the light and the Dark Lady as she raced within the halls of Northwind Castle—never catching up to one, barely escaping the other. Never a moment’s rest.

  Right when it felt like her lungs would burst and her wings were on fire, Selene collapsed to the floor in her human form and watched the last of the light vanish around another corner.

  “Why am I here?” She curled her fingers against the floor. “Why does my mind keep bringing me to th
is place?” But it wasn’t just her. The Dark Lady was here too. Was she keeping her trapped here?

  She only had a few moments before the Dark Lady appeared again, but she couldn’t move. Every breath she dragged in through her lips felt like glass shards inside her lungs. Why can’t I escape?

  Escape . . . Escape . . .

  Selene sat up with a gasp and opened her eyes. She was back in her room, with the first few rays of dawn filtering through the window. She pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling as though she was going to vomit. Cold sweat met her fingertips. “What is happening to me?” she whispered. Was something changing with her gift? Why couldn’t she escape this dream or change it?

  What did it mean?

  There was rustling in the room on the other side of her wall. Selene stared at the door that led from her room to Damien’s. He must be up. Just hearing the sound of another human being made her heart slowly return to its normal beat.

  She lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts returning from the dreamscape to the present. She listened to the movement on the other side of her wall.

  Was Damien always this early of a riser?

  She frowned. It was something a wife should know about her husband. And yet the only time she had spent in his bed was when they had first arrived, and she had helped him with his fever-induced nightmares.

  They had been married for a month and yet nothing had happened between them. She sat up as heat spread across her cheeks. Her stomach felt like she had fallen down a flight of stairs. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for anything yet. They were only now speaking to each other again.

  However . . . She remembered her declaration from a few days ago. I would like to know the kind of man I will be living with the rest of my life.

  The rest of my life.

  There was no place for fear in her future. She threw back the quilts and furs and stood. The cold floor and air swept across her exposed feet and thin nightgown. The sun appeared through the window with the pale light of winter. Today was the first day when she would learn more about Damien Maris. He said he wanted her advice on the other houses, and she was ready to hear what had transpired after they left Rook Castle.

  And . . . she wanted to know more about him. Perhaps in her study of Damien, she would discover why his soul was the way it was. She might even discover how to change her own soul.

  If that was possible.

  After Essa brought her morning meal of tea and an egg, Selene headed out of her room and spotted Karl standing across the hall. “Good morning, Karl.”

  He looked up. “Good morning, Lady Selene.”

  “Where is Lord Damien this morning?”

  “In his study.”

  “Could you take me there?”

  He frowned slightly, then nodded. “This way, my lady.”

  Selene followed Karl along the hallway, passing by the windows that overlooked the sea and the cliff where Damien raised the water and communed with the Light. For one brief moment she glanced outside the glass panes and wondered if he would be out there today. And if so, would it be possible to join him sometime? If only to see how he did it, how he used his gift and spoke to the Light.

  Ten minutes later, Karl stopped in front of a door on the other side of the castle and knocked.

  “Yes?” came a muffled voice.

  Karl opened the door and looked in. “Lady Selene wishes to see you.”

  A chair scraped across the floor. “Please send her in.”

  Karl stepped back while holding the door open. “My lady,” he said with a stiff bow.

  “Thank you, Karl.”

  Selene stepped into the study, her gaze moving across the room. Bookshelves lined both sides, each filled with books, tomes, artifacts, and small sculptures. In front of her stood a massive desk with one large arched window behind, filled with light blue sky.

  Damien stepped around the desk and reached his hand out as he crossed the room. Before she could move, he swept her fingers up and kissed her across the knuckles, sending a jolt through her body. “I was not expecting you,” he said as he let go, a gentle smile across his face.

  Her hand dropped to her side, but she could still feel the soft coolness of his lips across her skin. Her heart fluttered inside her chest, and her throat was suddenly tight. “You said you wished for my advice concerning the Great Houses.” Her voice came out higher than usual. She glanced at Damien, wondering if he had caught the strange pitch of her voice.

  “Yes, I did. Let me see if I can procure a chair for you.”

  Selene turned and watched Damien head to the door and speak to Karl outside.

  He had changed from the man she had left in the library after revealing the vile secrets of her house. Damien had been more cordial ever since their more recent talk. He could be hiding how he really felt inside, but even if he was, he was at least trying.

  The tension from that morning slowly slipped away, allowing her to relax a little as Damien turned back around. His eyes met hers, and her mouth went dry again. Such a stunning blue.

  Dart’an!

  Selene spun around and grasped her hands together and stared out the window ahead.

  “I’m glad you came this morning.” Damien’s soft tenor tone carried behind her. He came around and stood by his desk. “I was going to find you today. I have a surprise for you.”

  Her heart started thumping again. “A surprise?” she asked, thankful that this time her voice remained even. What was going on with her? She was acting like a shy young maiden.

  “Yes. Taegis told me about your conversation with the weaponsmith, and I just received word that your swords are done.”

  Her mind latched onto his last words. “Swords?”

  Damien leaned against his desk and ran a hand along the back of his neck. “Yes. You had mentioned to Taegis that you didn’t want to lose your skills. I’ll warn you, though, it’s not common for a woman to use a weapon here at Northwind Castle.”

  Selene went rigid. Was he going to tell her to behave like other ladies? Like how she imagined Lady Adalyn Luceras or Lady Ayaka Rafel did?

  He looked up. “But I know this is important to you. And I said I would help you. Taegis thought doing something familiar would help you adjust to your new life here at Northwind Castle, and I agree.”

  Selene blinked. Her first thoughts were wrong. Even though women training with weapons wasn’t something done here, he would encourage it anyway. To help her. Just like he said he would.

  “Would you like to see them now? Maybe even test them out? I could use a break. I’ve been here all morning.”

  Selene spoke before she could think. “Yes, I would like that very much. I would need to change first though.”

  “I’ll escort you back to your room, then to the training room. How does that sound?”

  A smile crept across her face, the first one in a long time. “You lead and I will follow.”

  Damien smiled back and headed out of the study. Selene followed, her spirit light. Could they really make this union work? Was it possible that Damien believed she wanted to be a different woman?

  Selene was surprised to find a loose tunic, pants, and soft-skinned boots hanging over her changing screen. After changing and redoing her braid, Selene emerged to find Damien waiting for her, clothed in a similar fashion. “Ready?” he asked.

  “I am.” Her fingers were already itching to hold her new blades and feel the strength of her muscles. She followed Damien down the hall, then a flight of stairs to the first floor, around a corner, and down another hallway. “Should we have let Karl know where we are going?” she asked, her voice echoing along the stone corridor.

  “No, I assume he’ll leave the chair in my study. I’ll need that extra chair there anyway since you’ll be coming now.” He smiled at her before stopping at a set of doors, sending another whooshing sensation through her belly. He opened the left one. “Here we go.”

  Selene stepped inside, the smell of sweat and w
ood greeting her. Three dummies stood near the far wall, but the rest of the room was wide open. On the weapons’ table, right near the edge, were a set of twin blades that looked almost exactly like the ones she had to leave behind the night she left Rook Castle, only less ornate than the originals.

  Selene walked over to the table and fingered the hilt of the blades. They looked to be about the right length and width. She picked one up, then the other, then hoisted both into the air. In the next movement, she swung the blades, getting a feel for the weight. The weaponsmith got the lengths right, with her lead sword longer than her other, a must for her technique. They were also a little heavier than her old blades, just slightly, but not enough to throw her off. But the curve to each blade was exactly how it should be.

  “Well?” Damien asked behind her.

  Selene turned around, a smile on her face. She couldn’t help it. These swords were the first thing that made Northwind feel like home. “A little heavy, but otherwise perfect.”

  Damien leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his tunic. His hair had been trimmed recently and his face shaved, giving him a pleasing, clean appearance. “Good. The weaponsmith worked hard to finish them. And I’m glad the seamstress was able to make you something loose and comfortable to practice in.”

  Selene looked down again at her clothing. “Yes.” Damien must have ordered them for her. She couldn’t remember Essa saying anything about training clothes when the maid was instructing the seamstress about her wardrobe. His thoughtfulness touched her.

  “Would you like to try your swords out after you’ve had a chance to warm up?”

  She looked up and raised one eyebrow. “Are you asking me to spar, Lord Damien?” The joy inside of her spilled out across her face and words.

  He seemed taken aback for a moment by her playfulness before he returned her look with a grin. “I am. I’ve seen you practice against dummies and highwaymen. I would love to test your skills against my own.”