Chapter 4
The crown is not in his throne room. It is not in his bedroom, where a decaying bedspread lies rotting on an equally ancient mattress. Tattered brocade flaps in the cold breeze from the broken windows.
Outside, the full moon shines as bright as daylight. Time has washed all color out of this castle. The bed, the curtains, the rugs, all have faded into gray. If I squint, I can see maroon beneath the grime on the once-luxurious carpet.
Why did the witch curse you? I ask the man, trailing him out onto a balcony.
He tips his face up. Bathed in moonlight, he’s unfathomably handsome.
I’ve never seen a man as severely good-looking as he is.
I suppose, if you’re going dream about your injured pet bird turning into a king, you might as well make him the epitome of every romantic fantasy you’ve ever indulged.
I was once cruel to an old woman. I’m not proud of it.
He seems genuinely remorseful. I place my hand over his. My work-roughened fingers are so much smaller than his. His skin is cool. Tell me.
He sighs.
I was young. Sixteen, seventeen, I no longer remember.
Old enough to know better. There was a pretty girl in the market.
I wanted to get her attention. Speaking loudly and being well-dressed didn’t get the desired reaction from her, so I stuck out my foot and tripped an old woman carrying a basket of apples, thinking this girl might take notice of my antics and be amused by them.
Was she?
Not that I recall, he answers wryly. The old woman had been trying to sell her apples in the market. They went rolling everywhere, bruised and damaged. I laughed.
His fingers flex around the broken railing. I tuck mine into his and squeeze.
She pointed at me and said I would be the ruin of Aisendelle. The day I inherited the throne would be the end of my reign. I would forget who I was and remain cursed until I could remember myself.
What happened after that? I prompt.
I forgot all about the incident, he answers ruefully.
Years passed. My father died when I was in my early twenties.
I was deep in grief and preparing for my coronation when I remembered the woman in the market.
If I had known where to find her I would have tried to atone.
I approached the day of my coronation with dread, praying it was only an idle threat from an old woman.
Still arrogant. I squeeze his hand sympathetically. A thin smile ghosts across his sensual lips.
That’s why I believe I must find my crown. I was a prince who was cursed on the day of my coronation. If I can find the symbol that brought on the curse, I’ll remember who I truly was. A note of bitter uncertainty tinges his words.
What should I call you? I try to change the subject.
He shakes his head. I don’t remember my name, either.
Turning to me, he cups my face with his free hand. I can’t resist the pull of her magic for long. Her hold on me is weakened, but the pain of failing to return each night is excruciating, Rowena. I don’t know how much longer I can withstand the compulsion.
Would it help if I locked you in the chicken coop to keep you safe?
He makes a face. I’d rather stay with you. In the house. In your bed.
He bends closer. Anticipation coils around my insides, a fluttery swoop of desire. I let my eyes fall closed. His breath ghosts across my lips.
Daylight tries to yank me out of the dream, but I’m determined to stay with him. My body is aflame with need for that kiss. For more.
The cottage is silent except for the faint rustle of feathers.
Mum should be working in the garden at this time of day.
Sensing an unexpected moment of privacy, I allow myself the luxury of snaking one hand between my legs the way I’ve imagined my dream-king touching me.
I squeeze my breasts. Delve into the slick velvet of my sex with two fingers.
This never takes me long. I have to wait until I’m alone, which is rare in a two-room cottage where the only privacy for your bed is a thin partition.
I’m wound so tight with pent-up frustration that I reach climax almost too quickly to be satisfied.
The raven untucks his beak from his good wing and watches me with curiosity.
“Got an eyeful, did you?” I sigh. I hope he’s not actually a cursed king. I’m sure seeing that would have gone straight to his head. If not for the witch’s visit, I wouldn’t be at all concerned. But thinking about all the peculiar incidents since his arrival has me embarrassed that he witnessed me—
“WEENA.”
The front door creaks open. Groggily, I roll onto my stomach and pull the pillow over my head. I’ve slept late, and Mum’s not pleased about it.
“Rowena Bloom, it’s nearly ten! What are you still doing abed?”
I sit upright with a start. The raven has his beak tucked beneath his injured wing, watching us warily. “Mum! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize...I was having such a vivid dream.”
I scramble out of bed. Poor Mum looks exhausted. Did she go out?
She answers before I can voice the question.
“Mrs. Wright went into labor last night. You didn’t hear their son come and fetch me?”
Guiltily, I shake my head. She wasn’t in the garden, then.
That explains why she came in through the front.
I thrust my arms into my dress and yank the laces tight.
My braid came unraveled overnight. I finger-comb it and pin it up, clenching the metal between my teeth while trying to wedge my feet into my shoes.
“I’m knackered.” She sighs. “All I want is my bed.”
“I’ll feed the chickens. Ten minutes, Mum, I’ll have fresh eggs ready to fry up.”
She’s already falling into the pillow, fully clothed.
“I can’t believe I slept so late,” I complain to the raven as I rush to complete the chores I am now hours behind in. I decide to blame my fatigue on having to mend the chicken coop yesterday. My arms still ache from the strain. “It’s your fault for giving me such wild dreams.”
While taking a break before pulling water from the well, I twist strands of long grass into a circle and place them on the bird’s head.
“There. Now you have a crown again. You’re a proper Raven King. Poof, the witch’s spell is broken.”
He stares at me with a comically near-human look of disdain. I can imagine him as a cursed king, even though the fae were driven out of the Five Realms long before I was born.
Most of them. Or so I believed until a few days ago.
The raven croaks indignantly and hops away, stretching his wings. If I had a way to keep him still for a few weeks, I would, but he is healing faster than an ordinary bird would. Soon, he’ll be able to fly again.
Soon, he will leave me.
I’ll be stranded here in this cottage, facing a doomed future among people who mistrust me.
“If I can help you locate your crown and break the curse, I want you to take us away from here,” I tell him. “Me and Mum.”
I’m not sure whether she would want to leave, or where we would go, though. If we ran away, word of my accidental murder might follow us. At least here, the villagers trust her enough to tolerate my presence.
He hops along the well roof. The grass crown tumbles off his head and slides to the ground.
“Rowena,” Mum calls. The raven hops onto my shoulder.
Inside the cottage, I find my mother carrying a basket of apples.
“Look at this bounty,” she says, clearly pleased with the gift. They are, indeed, ripe, red and tempting. “Someone left them on the stoop. They’re probably a thank-you from one of the villagers. They have certainly kept us busy of late.”
She picks one out and raises it to her lips. Foreboding lifts the hairs on my neck.
“Mum, don’t eat that!” I exclaim. “You don’t know where those came from. What if it’s a trick?”
“I’m hungry,” says Mum crossly. “I’m sure they are fine.
“No!”
She bites into the crisp fruit before I can knock it out of her hand. The raven leaps off my shoulder and snatches it in his claws. He more falls than flies with his injured wing, but it’s enough to ruin her snack.
“That bird is a menace,” she seethes, taking another one from the basket. “I want it out of my house.”
Again, the raven attacks, flapping laboriously. My mother throws her hands up to protect her face. “Leave me alone!”
The second apple tumbles to the ground. I kick it into the weeds. I seize the whole basket of them and dash to edge of the clearing, where I toss them into the compost pile.
“Rowena Bloom, what has gotten into you lately? Sleeping late? Wasting perfectly good food? Jumping at your own shadow?”
I flinch. To my horror, I realize she’s chewing. Somehow she managed to get a bite after all.
“Get your things. I need your help this evening when we visit the farmer’s wife again. And leave that damn bird behind.”
“I can’t, Mum.”
“You must. The villagers already think you’re strange. Trekking into town with a raven on your shoulder will not reassure them.” She takes me by the shoulders and gives me a little shake. “You have to prove to them that they can trust you.”
She is right. Yet I cannot abandon him. What if the real witch comes back?
We argue. I stay back and peel carrots and potatoes for our supper. Mum bustles about making her concoctions, mixing herbs and medicinal plants to create fever-reducing tinctures and infection-fighting salves as she prepares to go into town. Tense silence fills the cottage.
I swear she’s shrinking before my eyes.
Not only do her ears and eyes appear larger, by the time she sets out in the late afternoon to check on her patient and deliver tonics, her nose has taken on the sharpness of a mouse’s.
I don’t know what to tell her, or how to tell her. She won’t believe me. All I can do is hang back and watch with a heavy sensation in my stomach as her figure disappears down the road.
She doesn’t return that night.
I tell myself that her absence overnight isn’t unusual. She was likely delayed by a patient. But the farmer’s wife should have been a quick visit. I’m eager to mend fences after our argument.
From now on, I’ll put the raven in the chicken coop at night. I’ll make him stay outdoors during the day. No more feeding him scraps from my plate.
He isn’t a pet. He isn’t a Raven King. He’s a wild animal that will soon leave me. I can’t keep fighting with my mother over this. I just want her to come home.
I wait up for her until well past midnight with only my avian friend for company. At last, I fall asleep with the candle burning and the raven tucked beside me.
And dream.
This time, he carries me as we fly. No feathers sprout from his arms. Instead, two enormous black wings carry us high into the night sky.
He’s becoming more and more human. He holds me close to his chest with one arm beneath my legs and the other curled around my back.
His grip is firm, but that isn’t enough to prevent a surge of terror that he’ll drop me.
I tighten my arms frantically around his neck.
His lips curve with amusement. I’d smack his shoulder for laughing at my fear, but I’m too afraid to let go.
I won’t let you fall, Weena.
RO-wena. I correct him immediately. I don’t care if you are a king, you can call me by my proper name.
I like your nickname. It’s adorable.
His mouth hovers inches above mine. I can’t stop staring at it. Still, I’m surprised when he lowers his head and kisses me. His lips are soft and firm. Teasing. I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’m slow to respond. Heat clenches my core.
What was that for?
I saw you earlier. Doing…you know. Pleasuring yourself.
I wasn’t. My face flames.
Mhm. He brings his mouth to mine again, adjusting his hold on me.
What is your name? I ask breathlessly when the kiss breaks. I can’t go around kissing kings whose names I don’t know. It’s not done—not even in dreams.
His brow furrows. You asked me that before. I still don’t know.
You don’t remember? He shakes his head. I sigh and say, I suppose we’ll have to search for that, too. Along with your crown.
His wings tuck around us. We fall. I cling to him and swallow a scream, but several dizzying seconds later, we’ve landed safely on the ground. There is a small bump when his feet hit the stone floor of his castle. I gasp and cling to him. His chuckle vibrates through me.
Open your eyes, Rowena. You’re safe now. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead and sets me on my own two feet.
Where are we searching this time?
A place I don’t like to go. I haven’t been there in a while. Apprehension crinkles the corners of his eyes. Though his lashes cast spiked shadows on his cheeks, I can discern nothing within those depths. Stay close to me.
I slip my hand into his. Lead the way.