Chapter 6 #2
He watches me back, and—not for the first time—I wonder what he sees in me. Does he see only what I look like on the surface, or does he see beyond that? Does he see only my mother’s face when he stares at mine, or does he see the scarred soul peering back at him?
As if in answer, his mouth firms, and our eyes connect again. I almost flinch at the disdain I see writhing in their depths.
I breathe deep, bracing myself for whatever he is about to say.
“You have received your assignment, I take it?” he asks.
I nod in response, furious with myself for being unable to muster the strength to reply, but he’s always had a way of making me feel small.
Reducing me to something less than what I am.
“Good. Prove to me you’re not a waste of your mother’s life.”
The air flees my lungs, a whisper-thin escape, as his words strike deep. The acidic tang of bile coats my tongue, but I swallow it down, refusing to let it surface. Instead, I steel my spine, forcing myself to turn and walk away from the father I wish I’d never had.
My body moves with the ease of old habit as I make my way back to the Aviary, instincts honed through years of training taking over. But my thoughts refuse to still.
Prove to me you’re not a waste of your mother’s life.
The words claw at my chest with talons sharper than any weapon I’ve trained with. I breathe through the ache, willing away the toxic brew of anger and pain threatening to drown me.
The weight of my assignment is suffocating, an iron mantle pressing down on my shoulders.
Compete in Eretria’s Royal Trials. Win—no matter the cost. I can almost see the image my father has of me: fragile, disposable.
But I don’t exist to prove him right or wrong.
I’ll succeed because I have to. It’s the only way to protect Nyssa.
The only way to carve out a life beyond his shadow.
The coarse rasp of a sandal on cobblestone slices through the silence, drawing me away from my swirling thoughts.
My heart jolts as I draw into the shadows of an alcove, plastering myself against a wooden door.
My fingers brush over the worn texture of the wood, seeking purchase as the darkness envelops me.
I steady my breaths and strain my senses to hear past the sound of my blood rushing in my ears.
Cursing myself for being so on edge, I peer into the dimly lit street that leads to the Aviary’s front courtyard, eyes narrowing when I spot a cloaked figure staring up at the building.
The height and broad build suggest the figure is a man, but it’s the tense set to his wide shoulders that awakens my curiosity.
The insistent creature unfurls from its slumber in the pit of my stomach, stretching languidly and clawing for attention.
Ravenous for the secrets hidden behind the man’s presence as he circles around the side of the wall.
His movements are too purposeful. Too poised.
Familiar.
I imagine I look much the same on my clandestine visits to see my brother at the palace. My eyes narrow as the man disappears behind the building. The inky tendrils of shadows eagerly reach out to embrace him as he walks farther into their depths.
I hesitate, listening to the sound of his footsteps echoing through the night, steadily growing fainter. I shouldn’t follow him. I should go inside, curl up in my bed, and get a good night’s rest before I prepare for my assignment.
Despite myself, I hover on the knife’s edge of indecision, wondering which way I fall will cut the least.
Fuck it.
I slip from the alcove, matching my footsteps with the distant echo of his as he walks away from the Aviary.
Falling into the stealth I have developed through my training, I stalk through the sinewy maze of alleyways, dodging the pools of light that spill from the windows of cramped buildings.
The man’s path is irregular, weaving through the labyrinthine back streets of Vinta toward the southern side of the isle.
When he rounds a corner, a subtle tingle hums through my veins, growing stronger until a surge of energy floods my body.
My heart rate quickens, pounding in my chest like a drum in time with each calculated step.
Every sensation becomes heightened, and the starlit night around me takes on more vibrant hues.
Shadows turn violet.
Puddles of light gain an incandescent glow.
And that’s when I hear it, or rather, the lack of it.
Footsteps no longer sound in front of me.
I pause at the edge of the building—muscles tense, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice—and peer around the corner.
The alley is empty.
He’s just…gone.
The frustration building in my chest flares as I scan the shadows, searching for some trace of him. But the stillness around me offers nothing—no rustle of fabric, no soft footfalls. I take a shaky breath, willing my pulse to quell, but the irritation of being outmaneuvered lingers.
“Always so curious.” The voice comes from behind, low and rough like the scrape of stone against steel.
Before I can react, my back slams against the rough alley wall. A forearm pins me in place, pressing hard against my shoulders—cold and unyielding, just like the man looking down at me.
Raven.
I should have known it was him.
He always moved like that—quiet, precise, and controlled. That’s to be expected, I suppose, when the Eagle has trained you from the age of seven. While other Fledglings claw their way through ten years of blood, sweat, and discipline, Raven completed his training in eight.
Shadow partially cloaks his face, the dim light catching on the sharp planes of his jaw and the faint downward tilt of his lips. But even those small glimpses are enough to send shivers down my spine.
“I see some things never change,” Raven murmurs, but there’s no humor in it—only muted observation, as if he’s assessing who I’ve become since we last stood this close.
The shadows beneath his hood draw my gaze as his forearm presses harder against my shoulder. His entire body is taut, like a bowstring pulled tight, trembling on the verge of snapping.
“Get off me,” I demand, pushing against his chest. His warmth bleeds through the fabric of his tunic beneath my palms. More real than it has any right to feel after all this time. His lips twitch as I push him back, his arm dropping away. Yet the space between us feels anything but empty.
“How did you know I’d follow you?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended, driven by the chaos of emotions lingering from the night’s earlier events.
“Because you’re predictable.” He steps back, running a hand through his dark hair and knocking his hood back. The movement is sharp, edged with frustration.
I open my mouth to snap back, but the words falter as the hood falls away, and for a moment, everything else fades.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a year, and the sight jolts me into silence.
His deep brown hair, messy and windswept, frames the sharp lines of his face.
Short stubble softens his jaw, and his lips are pressed into a firm, unyielding line.
His skin is a lighter brown than I remember, not quite as bronzed from the sun-drenched islands of the Sorrows.
But it’s his eyes—piercing amber brown—that momentarily hold my attention.
Until his words register.
“You don’t know me,” I scoff, folding my arms across my chest as if it might shield me from the dark intensity of his gaze. I breathe hard, the movement of my chest filling the silence that now feels too heavy.
Raven tilts his head, studying me. There’s something darker in his gaze now, something sharp and simmering just beneath the surface.
A smirk doesn’t form this time—just a flicker of what could be amusement or something more dangerous.
“Are you looking for a fight, El?” he asks, his tone deceptively quiet, his words heavy enough to make my pulse quicken.
“If I was,” I snap back, standing taller despite the uneven thrum of my heartbeat, “I wouldn’t pick you.”
For one fleeting second, his mouth twitches, though it’s not a teasing response I see rising. Instead, it’s something heavier, something edged, before he takes another deliberate step back. “Good,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing faintly. “Fighting me has never ended well for you.”
My anger flares again, stoked by his calm demeanor, but I bite it back as I glare harder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.
He doesn’t look away—never does, not when the tension in the alley feels like it might pull tight enough to snap. Raven’s eyes search mine for something I can’t name, and when he finally speaks again, his voice drops lower, his tone no longer cold but resigned.
“So, the Eagle told you?” He offers no further explanation—none is necessary.
“Yes.” The word escapes me, sharp and fast, slicing through the air between us before I can think better of it. His quiet intensity feels like a weight pressing down on me, and I look away, desperate to regain control as cracks widen in my already damaged armor.
“And you’re angry.”
Not a question this time, more a statement of fact.
“Obviously.” My voice is brittle, arid, like the Sorrows in the heart of the dry season.
Raven lets out a sigh—not dismissive but weary, as if he’s been shouldering a burden for far too long. His gaze softens, just slightly yet enough for me to catch the change. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, simply turns and strides away as if my compliance is a foregone conclusion.
“And why should I?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Raven calls over his shoulder. “I’m your Flight Commander now.”
The words hang in the air, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve heard him wrong.
Flight Commander.
My Flight Commander.
“What happened to Kestrel?” I ask, even though I already know the only answer capable of triggering such a shift in Alpha Flight’s hierarchy.
“Dead.”
The word falls like a stone, weighted with unspoken regret, and in an instant, everything changes—it’s as if someone swept the ground out from under me.
Still, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It was clear from the moment we met that Lord Malis had plans for him. Raven’s path was paved in the Eagle’s shadow; set apart before he even knew what it meant to belong. Leading the Aviary’s elite by twenty-seven? It was only a matter of time.
With a reluctant sigh, I resign myself to the inevitable and follow.
My body moves in his wake without conscious thought, my legs stiff and deliberate, like a puppet pulled by strings.
I’ll have to bury the emotions clawing at my chest, to feign indifference and act like this is just another day, just another superior giving orders.
Raven guides me back through the winding streets and up to the zenith of the Aviary—the rooftop of its central tower.
The familiar golden eagle perched at the domed center glints in the moonlight, its open wings shimmering as if poised to take flight.
I had realized our destination the moment we reached the third flight of stairs and he continued to climb.
It was our sanctuary, a haven we retreated to whenever life became too much.
Standing here now, it’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s been a year since I last saw him. He looks the same as I remember. With his hood lowered, the moonlight illuminates his light brown skin, casting a luminous silver sheen over the familiar contours of his face.
When my gaze finally travels up to his eyes, they burn back at me—fiery pools of amber that sear my soul. Raven reaches up with a large hand that belies the gentleness of his fingertips brushing across my cheekbone. “This is not the life I had hoped for.”
The memory hits me, sharp and unrelenting, forcing a shuddering breath from my chest. I close my eyes, gathering the scattered pieces of my emotions and forcing them back into the locked box in my mind where they belong.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask when I feel I have some semblance of control.
“I want you to tell me what you see.”
Exhaling, I brush away the stray locks of hair the wind has pulled loose from my braid, feeling the warm air kiss my skin as I open my eyes and look ahead, surveying the Sorrows.
The pale light dancing upon the whitewashed buildings, illuminating their curves and contours.
The quaint, blue-domed roofs dotting the landscape seem to come alive, their vibrant hues contrasting against the dark night sky.
A gentle breeze carries the scent of the sea and blooming flowers toward us, and it whispers a word into my ear.
Home.
“When we leave here, I want you to remember why we do what we do,” he says, even though I didn’t answer him out loud. “I want you to remember that it’s not about us, it’s about our kingdom. Our people. Your people.”
I don’t know how to respond. Anger was easier—it was something I could hold on to, something that felt solid and tangible. But this…
My gaze lingers on the isles spread out beneath us, the shimmer of moonlight against the familiar rooftops, the curve of the ocean beyond.
There was a time when I believed in what he was saying.
When duty wasn’t something I resisted but something I embraced—even if it was only to earn my father’s approval.
But now, as I stand here with Raven’s words pressing down on me, all I feel is the weight of everything I’ve lost for the sake of this duty.
How many more sacrifices will it demand of me? How many more pieces of myself will I have to carve away before I become a hollow shell of obedience?
I close my eyes, forcing myself to breathe as the weight of his words settles like a mantle on my shoulders.
One day I’ll prove I’m strong enough to bear it.