Chapter Two- The Raven
It wasn’t long after I started trailing Prince Thorne Shadowfall that I came to the realization that killing him would simultaneously be my most trying and rewarding task to date. Not only is he a phenomenal executioner, he seems immune to death. He truly is the bane of my existence.
He has, to my enduring frustration, treated every reasonable attempt on his life as a mild inconvenience.
Once, I deprived him of air in his own bed, something that would have sent any sensible man to the grave, only for him to wake at dawn grumpy with a headache.
On another occasion, I arranged for an anvil to plummet from the palace heights onto his person.
To be fair, he was bedridden for a handful of days, which I considered progress, until he rose again with scarcely more than a lingering bruise.
The incident, mercifully, was blamed on ongoing construction rather than my persistence.
I am beginning to suspect that if I were to poison him, he would simply remark upon the vintage before asking for a second glass. Wretched prince.
His persistent survival makes it harder and harder to make his death look accidental while not letting it lead back to me.
I have been murdering high profile people in this blasted kingdom for the better part of a decade, so for someone to survive a murder attempt? That hits the ego pretty hard.. I frown as I watch him.
Thorne is not actually known as the executioner of Netherhelm. In fact, he is merely a shadow. Directed by the King to kill in secret.
A summons has arrived for him from King Dreven and I watch him open and read the parchment as he slumps over the cherrywood desk in his room.
Crowley has become acquainted with the space behind Thorne’s ornately carved walls, with the beams in his vaulted ceiling.
The bird is exceptional at concealing any sounds of movement in shadows.
When Thorne sleeps, I watch him from his windowsill through Crowley’s eyes.
When I feel especially bold, I prefer to Shadow Walk, moving within the darkness that exists in all things.
The thrill of being so close to my target, completely unbeknownst to them, makes my heart stutter, delicious adrenaline gracing my veins.
But, it’s a heavier drain on my magic so watching through Crowley gives me the ability to see Thorne without having to focus so much on staying hidden.
I’m still working on perfecting the nearly impossible invisibility spell, umbraveil. So, this will have to do for now.
Furious that he can’t deny the King’s summons, Thorne gathers a ball of fire in his palm and burns it. His own small act of defiance.
Crowley soars above the palace, marking Thorne’s location as he passes through old stone archways and courtyards.
He’s walking quickly and with purpose, his sapphire mantle flowing behind him as his thin crown hangs sideways in his silver hair.
It’s a darkened silver circlet, thin as the edge of a blade and studded with obsidian stone.
Crowley briefly considers snatching the shiny thing from Thorne’s hair until my own will stops him.
“I will get you some nice shiny things later,” I murmur through our bond. I’m sitting in an arm chair in my room, allowing me to be accounted for by prying any eyes while my familiar does the majority of my spying.
“Kneel,” the King bellows as soon as Thorne enters the massive stateroom where Dreven takes all his meetings.
Crowley lands upon a stone shoulder on the statuary at the edge of the open stateroom. Thorne kneels before the King, who looks horrifically old with his deceptively dark hair slicked back from his harsh, wrinkled face. The hair dye stains his temples, fooling no one of the grey he wishes to hide.
King Dreven’s own cruelty ages him beyond his years, the blood on his hands ravaging his soul. His cruelty towards Thorne, though, does not seem to affect him at all. In fact, he takes great pleasure in it. He grins, not allowing Thorne to rise to his feet for a long while.
When he finally does, Thorne dares a glance at his mother. The Queen stands at the foot of the dais, instead of behind her husband as was once the custom. She is the first queen ever to do so, forced to remain beneath him.
“Do not look at her, boy!” Dreven roars. I see Thorne’s features fight the urge to scowl at him.
The veiled Queen does not react to Thorne or the anger in Dreven’s voice.
“Your next assignment,” King Dreven announces. He throws the parchment at Thorne’s feet. Like the Queen, Dreven has never allowed Thorne onto the dais. While the rest of his siblings are welcome there, The King would never risk allowing Thorne to touch him.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Thorne kneels to pick it up, expecting to be free to leave. But the King is not finished.
“I am told you have spent many recent evenings with a—” the King pauses to read something from a scroll. “Briar Insinuer of Incendria?”
Thorne’s eyes widen and he lifts his head to eye King Dreven.
It was true, Thorne was entertaining the girl from the Kingdom of Fire.
Her mother married into Netherhelm and the red-haired beauty caught Thorne’s eye in a tavern.
He’s kept the secret well; I truly thought I was the only one who knew.
Then again, the King is ill-informed. They have been courting for months, not just a few recent evenings.
I note the horror behind Thorne’s eyes and see the deep sorrow that lives within the endless blue. His father either doesn’t know him well enough to see it, or chooses to ignore it.
“She is a sexual conquest, nothing more,” Thorne swears.
Oh no.
“Liar!” The King whips his dark magic towards Thorne; it latches onto his chainlink collar as if magnetic. Dreven yanks on it, slamming Thorne horrifically into the marble floor.
Blood erupts from his nose instantly as his face connects with stone. The Prince scrambles to his knees despite what must be intense pain. Even though his eyes are on fire from anger and grief, they are the most exquisite shade of cobalt I have ever beheld.
“You filth. You are not to procreate! I warned you, you wretched thing.” The King stands and spits at Thorne.
Dreven gestures to the right entryway behind him. To my horror—and Crowley’s, who caws—three guards drag out a girl with a hood over her head.
No.
“We did not procreate! No!” Thorne tries to lunge for her but King’s magical leash lashes him to the floor again.
“Yet,” King Dreven spits at Thorne. How could his disgust for his son be so great? For a child he raised?
One of the guards holding Briar eyes Thorne warily as he removes the hood from her head. Tears streak her face and she looks around in confusion. The guard is young, new, and clearly has no idea what’s going on.
“Prince Thorne?” Her accent is thick, her voice shaking as she sees him unable to get off of the floor.
Something nags at me to help, though I know that I cannot. Prince Thorne’s suffering should bring me joy. Instead, I feel nothing. I wish I felt joy instead of this gnawing need to end this.
“You have denied me love my entire life!” Thornes bellows at the King as he thrashes against the restraint like a wild beast trapped.
“You are nothing, no one. You don’t deserve the least bit of affection. Much less love,” King Dreven sneers. At this, Queen Ivy shifts on her feet but makes no advance to stop the situation.
“So you will have me indulge in rage?” Thorne screams and I swear his skin is opening against the chain on his neck as he pulls. “Am I only allowed to feel this blinding hatred?!” His voice booms and the entire room quakes as his power fights against the magic restraining him.
Crowley, potentially feeding off of my uncertainty, takes action and sweeps into the room straight towards the King.
His caws and screeches are drowned out by the King’s screams as my raven claws mercilessly at his eyes.
Flailing helplessly, the King releases his magic on Thorne who finds his way to Briar.
He touches one of the guards with an ungloved hand and the guard’s screams fill the chamber with chaos.
He falls, stiff as a board, to the ground.
Briar screams in fear and crawls away from Thorne.
The remaining young guard tries to run but is caught around the throat by the Prince . Instead of screaming, he begins to disintegrate and fall to ash in Thorne’s grip.
Crowley flies up and out of the stateroom as more guards and knights rush in. My booted feet pound the ground as I finally make it to the room, pretending to be shocked by the disorder.
“It’s okay, miss,” I say as I grab her by the arms and pull her to her feet. She’s shaking and sobbing as she falls into me.
“What is the meaning of this!” Reese has finally arrived and barks demands at the guards as healers rush to the King’s aid.
The King is whimpering, a pathetic sight that brings me joy. It is Queen Ivy, though, immovable and quiet, that is the oddest of all. Especially when she discretely moves to Thorne and takes his face in her hands, looking at him adoringly. He nods.
“Those two guards meant to take advantage of Miss Insinuer…” Thorne straightens, moving from broken puppet to noble prince so quickly I hardly have time to process it.
“They were swiftly dealt with but it seems a common crow saw fit to attack my f… father.” I hear his voice shake on the last word. Interesting.
Not a crow. He’s a raven.
“Amnyistey." I whisper the spell into Briar’s ear and she collapses in my arms, asleep. She’ll have no memory of the entire day. I brush her soft red curls back and scoop her into my arms.
“Thank you, Sir Darkbloom,” Prince Thorne nods at me. His eyes linger and I see every ounce of pain behind them. “See her home, please.”
My head spins at Thorne’s loyalty and willingness to keep up appearances.
King Dreven finally stands, the healers done with him.
“As Prince Thorne said, the crow is the only remaining villain. Be vigilant and keep an eye out for it,” he announces to his guards and knights. Appearances must be maintained, after all.
The healers take him from the dais and I feel Queen Ivy’s eyes on me. Does she know that Crowley is mine?
I turn on my heel with Reese and Elmerov moving to either side of me. “None of that explains the blood on the Prince’s face,” Elm suggests.
“I suspect the two guards fought back,” I answer smoothly.
“But why was the prince involved at all? Princes don’t do the king’s executing,” Elm shakes his head. I say nothing.
“I mean it’s not like that Executioner Prince rumor is true," Elmerov continues while I remain silent.
“It is my understanding that Prince Thorne was courting the girl. I believe things got out of hand,” Reese tells him as we find a carriage at the front of the palace.
I meet eyes with Reese, both of us trying to gauge what the other knows.
“I will see her home,” I tell them.
“After the day you’ve had?” Reese asks. He’s right, after training I was called to deal with two Blessed Wyverns who flew through an unpatched hole in the wards.
“I’m fine, Reese,” I groan.
Elm looks at the bandage on my bicep and the brace around my knee. I roll my eyes.
“Taking a girl home is perfectly safe, I’m good,” I tell them again as I push her into the carriage. Her small frame fits comfortably across the upholstered bench.
“As you wish, Harrow,” Reese grumbles as I hop into the carriage.