Caged By Fallen Crows, Part One (Of Crows and Thorns Saga #2)

Prologue - 12 Years Earlier

Graysen

Sprawled on a Persian rug, I lay in a pool of sunlight that warmed its fading threads of red and gold.

My nine-year-old brother, Jett, sat cross-legged across from me on a beanbag, an elbow on his thigh, chin cupped in his hand.

We were in our rumpus room, filled with toys and games, and a collection of mismatched furniture and cushions from various periods, once elegant and refined and now thoroughly abused by me and my brothers.

Sunlight blazed through the bank of ceiling-to-floor windows, saturating the halls and rooms with an unnatural summer warmth.

The clatter and murmur of the everyday life of our House drifted inside to compete against the music playing in the background: the clash of steel on steel; the barked commands of our Weapons Master; staff hurrying past on their various tasks.

Jett and I wore loose t-shirts and shorts, and a silver tray holding a jug of lemonade and snacks sat beside us.

I reached for my glass, sipping at the refreshing liquid, its sweet tartness spilling down my throat.

Swiping my lip free from moisture with my thumb, I considered my next question before shooting my brother a sharp look. “Do you wear glasses?”

Jett tipped his head to the side, squinting at me. “Do I look like I fucking wear glasses?” he shot back, his young voice squeaky, before cutting a furtive glance over his shoulder to see if anyone, in particular our mother, had walked in and overheard his curse.

“Right now, yeah, you do.” I waved a hand at him, grinning. “You’ve got a pretty little hat on and a blue shirt of some kind.”

The beanbag beneath Jett crinkled as he straightened, pretending to look affronted. “No. I’m not wearing glasses.”

I flipped the tabs down on the board in front of me, pursing my mouth to the side. Not Asami or Michelle then…that just leaves…Zara, Cristina, or Leona. “Your turn.”

My brother squiggled as he considered his options, then glanced up. His violet eyes were narrowed and shrewd. “Are you bald?”

Godsdammit!

“Yes,” I gritted out.

With a smarmy grin showing teeth too big for his mouth, he quickly flicked down the tabs on his board.

Bobbing my head to the music flowing from the media system, ‘Electric Feel’ by MGMT, I plucked at the soft threads of the rug while thinking about which of the three women remaining on the board of Guess Who?

it could be. What set them apart? Running through the options in my mind.

Leona wore a necklace… Zara has red lipstick… And Cristina has—

Jett gave a bored, weary sigh that instantly had my gaze snapping upward, irritation prickling beneath my skin. He unfolded his long, scrawny legs before glancing over his shoulder. I knew where he was looking—the door.

I arched a brow, more than a little pissed. “What?”

He tucked a thick, wavy lock of hair behind an ear, dragging his gaze back to mine. “I was gonna help Mom with her—”

“She’s gardening. She’s always gardening.”

“I wanted to help—”

“You promised me three games,” I growled, jutting my chin out.

Jett hissed through his teeth, throwing up his hands. “Hurry up. You take too long thinking about your questions!”

“I just want to make sure I ask the right one because I want to—”

“Win!” Jett interrupted, stamping a foot. “Yeah, I get it. I do, too. But Gray, for the fucking love of Zrenyth, ask me a godsdamned question!”

I bared my teeth at him and shot back, “Are you wearing a necklace?”

“No.”

Yes! Goodbye, Leona. I flipped her necklace-wearing face down.

“Do you have fat lips?” Jett asked, giving me a dark look as he leaned over to scoop up a handful of popcorn.

Shimmying my shoulders in time to the soft-synth beat of the song, I puckered my lips and made a kissy face at him.

His scowl melted away, and he erupted with laughter, tossing popcorn at me. I reacted swiftly, averting my head sideways as fluffy corn struck my cheek and temple, bouncing off to scatter all over the rug. “Dick,” he cackled.

I plucked a single popcorn and tossed it into my mouth, crunching down on it so it squeaked against my teeth, simply to make my brother’s smile grow wider. I wiggled my eyebrows. “No. No fat lips.”

Still grinning, Jett reached toward the board to flip down a character, then froze. His gaze turned glassy, distant.

Unease curled inside my gut, exploding into fear the moment his entire body spasmed. His pain-laced cry shattered through the room. Muscles locked taut, he tipped sideways and crashed onto the floor.

I was kneeling beside him a heartbeat later, running my hands over his shaking arms. “What’s wrong?”

Jett whimpered. A sheen of clammy sweat broke out on his forehead.

He clutched his arm above the elbow. I knew…

I knew what was wrong right before he answered, “Mom.” Tears welled in his eyes, glistening on his long black lashes.

“It’s broken,” he gasped, his breathing tight. “I think her spine is too.”

Shit, shit, shit—

His trembling body was light in my arms as I scooped him up and carried him out of the rumpus room, sending my senses swirling ahead of me, hunting for my mother.

In a blur of unnatural speed, I tracked her down. She lay injured at the foot of the foyer staircase with a few of our staff fussing over her. A wicker basket lay on its side halfway down the staircase, with her favorite white climbing roses scattered all about.

A soft whirring, clicking noise caught my attention. I spotted beneath a low running table an upside-down skateboard, its wheels slowly spinning.

My younger brother, Caidan, burst through the front door right as I pushed off the last step.

We arrived by my mother’s side at the same time and leaned over.

My mother’s skin was ashen as she trembled, biting her bottom lip against the pain.

Both Caidan and I shared a quick, excited look. “Did you die?”

She huffed a pained laugh. “Why is that the first question anyone asks of me?”

No one knew if my mother was immortal. She hadn’t aged in the past decade. She remained as youthful as the day she’d given birth to me. The only way we’d know if she was immortal was if she died…and didn’t. But it wasn’t anything that anyone actually wanted to put to a test.

“Noooo,” she answered. “I did not die.”

I twisted my mouth to the side. Part of me was slightly disappointed.

I gently lowered Jett onto the stone floor beside her.

She winced, groaning as she raised her good arm, settling it over his shoulder.

He curled into her side, stifling a whimper, and she feathered her fingers through his hair, smoothing the long locks from his sweaty forehead. “I’m so sorry, little shadow.”

With my keen senses, I could hear a faint crinkling sound as broken bones knitted back together to reform inside her body.

“It’s okay, Mom.” His voice quivered with agony and muffled slightly as he buried his face into her side.

We had all inherited my mother’s unnatural healing ability, but what Jett experienced was a unique bond between the two of them.

Her nickname for him reflected the connection they shared.

He alone physically felt her suffering. And it was more than that.

He was her shadow, clinging to her skirts from the moment he was a toddler, spending more time with her than any of us.

It had even been a huge pain in the ass to convince him to play Guess Who?

with me, since, if he had a choice, he’d have spent the entire day by her side.

“Gray.” Caidan jerked his chin toward the antique tables running along the walls. He shut the front entrance while the staff secured the side entrances leading into other rooms and retreated to leave us alone. With the doors closed and sunshine banished, the foyer dimmed considerably.

I knew what my mother needed to take away Jett’s pain. I grabbed a small terracotta warrior from an intricately carved cabinet.

Caidan ran a hand roughly through his spiked hair, and I noticed he’d spotted the skateboard jutting out from beneath the side table. It was more breath than words, but I heard it all the same. “Ah, shit…”

Yeah, I was starting to get an idea of exactly what had happened to Mom.

I shot him a black look, and his gaze flashed to mine, filled with remorse and worry.

He rubbed the flats of his hands over his face, then dropped them to his hips.

He should be worried. When Dad found out about this…

Holy hells, I would not want to be in his shoes.

The ultimate punishment was one lick of Oskar’s whip.

My bare feet slapped against the stone, echoing down the long hallway as I rushed to reach her side.

Swiftly kneeling, I reached toward her hand, then stilled as I saw her eyes widen, alarm shining in their depths, when she took in the artifact clenched in my grasp.

“Not that one. It’s from the Han Dynasty! ” she cried out, horrified.

“Which one, then?”

Her gaze bounced between all the antique statues and urns on the cabinet. “Maybe the…”

I decided for her by pressing the small statue into her trembling hand, curling her fingers around its sides, careful of the finger that was broken.

She couldn’t move her right arm, as the bone had shattered above the elbow, exactly as my littlest brother had said earlier.

“Who cares, Mom?” I grumbled. “We’ve got a gazillion more, just as rare. ”

Her agony-pinched features pouted, but then she relented with a rough sigh.

My mother smoothed her good hand over Jett’s upper arm and closed her eyes in concentration.

Caidan and I took a step back as light glowed from her and made her sweat-slick skin shine. Golden, otherworldly strands of magic, threadlike and softly humming with power, wove around her body and coiled about the statue held in her loose grip.