Chapter 6 A Flicker of Hope
A Flicker of Hope
Bran
My brothers and I wait in the shadow of the castle, not a word passing between us.
There’s nothing left to say, anyway. Raisa asked us to take her away—to free her, with wild magic glowing in her eyes while she whispered her truth.
She’s made her choice now, and we’ll fall, down to the last of us, if that’s what it takes to grant her wish.
The only sound is the distant, muffled footfalls of the king’s guards up on the ramparts. Like usual, they don’t notice us. We blend into shadows like smoke.
Even though I don’t need them, I push my glasses higher on my nose. Old habits die harder than men, and the glasses are a familiar comfort. They’re a useful tool, too. A man with poor vision isn’t a threat, or so our enemies think.
Rune is already up the tower wall, his pale hands pressed to the stone just beneath Raisa’s sliver of a window.
He’s muttering under his breath, painting runes in the air with one finger—a counterspell to the ones layered on the tower to keep her inside.
He never tells the rest of us what he’s doing, but I see the blue static in his eyes and the way he grins when ancient magic snaps beneath his touch.
Talon keeps watch, crouched on the balls of his feet, his eyes narrowed in a predator’s squint.
Sable can’t keep still. He’s pacing in tight, silent circles like a viper waiting to strike.
Shade and Grim guard the perimeter, each a black shadow with violence in reserve.
Onyx lingers at my shoulder, the only one who doesn’t look at the tower. He watches me instead, as if he can see through to what I’m planning.
When Rune drops from the wall, he lands so softly it barely rustles the grass.
We all turn toward him.
“The ward is weak,” he whispers, his face split in a dark smile. “We have five minutes, maybe less. If we wait much longer, the spells will snap back.”
Shade’s voice is a rumble. “Who’s going in to bring her out?”
All eyes turn to me.
It’s not just because I’m the best at passing for human. It’s because I look the least like what I am. I smile like a courtier. I say please and thank you. I can talk my way into a party or a jail cell without being recognized. I look like a scholar, a scribe. Harmless.
We all know that’s a lie. I kill just because I can.
I give the barest nod, and Sable cackles. “He’ll talk her into jumping out the window.”
“You want her alive, don’t you?” I ask.
Grim’s lips curl, his expression tight. “Obviously.”
Shade cuts the conversation off with a gesture. “Go.”
I strip out of my coat and shoes, tucking them in a hollow at the root of a tree, then crouch low and let the shift take me.
It’s not as dramatic as what happens to Shade or Grim. The curse loves pain, and I learned to enjoy it long ago.
My body slips between forms like water forming to a new vessel. My bones snap, but quietly. The feathers sprout with a whisper.
I shrink, fold, and then become the raven.
The wind is sharp on my wings as I launch, banking hard to circle the tower. There’s an arrow slit not far below Raisa’s window, barely wide enough for a man’s hand, but I squeeze through, folding my wings and bones with practiced ease.
Inside, the corridor is dim, the air ripe with candle smoke and old stone. I cling to the ceiling, scanning for movement.
A servant passes, a basket on her hip, humming a dirge. She doesn’t look up. I wait until she’s vanished down the stairs, then glide up to the landing outside the tower door.
King Gallagher is as arrogant as he is stupid.
There are no guards on her door, nothing but a lock and the dark magic he hides behind, confident it’ll keep her caged, protect him, and keep us out.
Perhaps that was true once. But like recognizes like, and he shaped us with the same magic he now tries to hide behind.
Rune’s magic coats the lock, the faint blue veins threading through the iron, weakening the old man’s spell. I shift back to my human form, setting my palm against the wood.
I’m naked now, but there’s nothing I can do about that at the moment.
The king’s magic hums, eager to bite, but like always, it recognizes kin. Or maybe it just knows defeat when it feels it.
The latch clicks open with a small sigh.
The room inside makes my blood boil—bare walls, a cot, a tiny table. For a man who swears he means only to protect Raisa, he treats her like a broken little doll. He deserves to die bloody for it.
Moonlight falls on a blanket on the floor.
I see her cowering beneath it, shivering.
She’s smaller than she was just days ago, her gorgeous curves withering away, her hair a tangle of black across her face and shoulders.
Her skin glows in the moonlight, pale and perfect, marred only by the blue shadows under her eyes.
She holds Shade’s feather in one fist, so tight her knuckles are white.
She doesn’t see me at first.
I take two silent steps and crouch before her, careful not to startle her. I speak low, as softly as I can. “Princess.”
She looks up.
The feather falls from her hand. Her eyes widen, stormy and beautiful. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll scream. Instead, her lips part in awe, hope spilling across her face.
“You came for me,” she whispers.
I smile, the way I practiced a hundred times in the mirror. “Of course we did.”
She unfolds slowly, pressing a palm to her forehead as if unsure whether this is another dream. “I thought…I wished…but I wasn’t sure–”
“Wish granted,” I say, and for a second, I sound more like Sable than myself.
She stands, shaky, her nightgown twisting around her hips. I force myself not to look at her legs, the thick cream of her thighs, or the flush rising to her cheeks. I keep my eyes on hers.
“Are you real?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I extend my hand. “Come with me. I’ll prove it.”
She takes it, her fingers small and cold as they cling to mine. The contact sends a pulse through me, fierce and bright. My stomach tightens with something hungry and ancient, but I push it down.
“Can you walk?” I ask.
She nods, a little too fast, then steps forward and nearly collapses. I catch her by the waist, holding her upright. She’s heavier than she looks, all softness and curves. She smells like honeysuckle and fear.
Her face is inches from mine. She stares, unblinking.
I want to kiss her, right here in the cell, but I know better. If I do, we won’t leave. I’ll have her pinned to the door, to the floor, fucking her until she screams.
Instead, I wrap my arm around her back, guiding her to the door.
She hesitates at the threshold. “My father–”
“He’s with his council.” I don’t mention that I could kill them all. His fate is far more painful than a quick death. “Trust me.”
She steps through, and I pull the door shut behind us. The lock clicks, the spell rebounding as if it were never interrupted at all. It’ll be morning before anyone even realizes she’s missing. By then, she’ll be ours.
We move quietly down the staircase, my hand never leaving her waist. Every time she stumbles, I lift her, relishing the heat of her skin under my fingers. She doesn’t resist, just clings to my shoulder and keeps pace.
I lead her through a servant’s corridor and out to the kitchen yard, stopping only long enough to grab a cloak from a hook as we pass by. I slip in on as we step outside.
The castle is mostly asleep, but there are a few guards still playing dice in the shadows. I duck my head and walk fast, pretending I belong.
No one stops us. They don’t even look in our direction, as confident in the king’s magic as he is.
I pause at the outer gate, feeling Raisa’s weight against me. The iron bars are ancient and rusted where they meet the stone wall. A single guard dozes at his post, the keys dangling from his belt.
Gallagher’s arrogance is laughable. He’s so confident that he has her caged and cowed in the tower out of our reach that he didn’t even increase patrols or double his guards. That arrogance will cost him everything.
I slip forward like a ghost, pluck the keys free, and return to her side without a sound.
“Ready?” I whisper, sliding the largest key into the lock.
She nods, her eyes wide as the tumblers click and the gate creaks open just enough for us to slide through.
I take her hand and pull her after me, easing the south gate shut behind us.
She doesn’t even hesitate. She doesn’t look back, either.
Whatever allegiance she had to this place died when Gallagher locked her in the tower this time.
A dog barks in the distance, but nothing else stirs.
I close the gate behind us before tossing the keys into the forest. Once she’s tucked against me again, we run for the trees.
Every exhale is a small cry on her lips, but she keeps up.
In the shelter of the woods, I stop and pull her against the trunk of a pine. I look her over, searching for blood or breaks, for any hint of an injury. If King Gallagher laid a single hand on her, we’ll tear his off and dance in the spray of his blood.
“Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head, her lips trembling. She’s panting, her eyes wild.
“You did good,” I say, meaning it.
For a second, neither of us moves. I feel her heart hammering against my chest, and my own blood roaring in my ears in response. She looks up at me, and there’s something in her gaze—hope or terror, maybe both.
I lean in, just enough to brush my lips against her forehead.
“You’re safe now,” I whisper, even though it’s a lie. Nothing about this is safe. But we’ll tear the kingdom to rubble before we let harm befall her.
She closes her eyes, tears streaking down her face. “Thank you.”
I wipe them away with my thumb, careful and slow. She leans into my hand.
The hunger comes roaring back, sharper than before. More insistent. I want her, all of her. The urge to take is almost unbearable.
I pull away, forcing myself to breathe.
“We have to keep moving,” I say. “It’s not over yet.”
She nods, wiping her cheeks. “I’m ready.”