Chapter 14 #2
We wait in tense silence, the air thick with anticipation. Moments later, Keres and Jorah rush past, their voices too low to detect anything more than urgency lacing their tones.
“Follow them,” I murmur. “Find out where Keres is headed and who he’s meeting.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll help Raven with the lock. I want to see these goiteía he mentioned.”
“Not even a queen, yet already so commanding,” Nyssa snarks, but she slips away from me, following the reverberation of footsteps as they dissipate.
The sounds echo through the distance, and I wait until silence falls.
Only then do I slip back to his chambers, raising a hand to the doors.
I knock—two deliberate, measured taps, followed by two quick ones in succession.
Raven cracks one open, a frown shadowing his features before he gestures for me to step inside, his eyes flicking down the hallway before he secures the lock behind me. I glance around the antechamber and then turn to him, arching a brow. “Where in Notos’s name were you hiding?”
“I never hide and tell, Starling,” Raven replies with a smug grin, his tone laced with playful teasing. His focus lingers on me, eyes scanning every detail of my face, as if searching for clues about how I might react after our earlier clash.
Right now, the last thing I want is another fight with him.
I roll my eyes but can’t help the slight tug at the corner of my mouth as I make my way to the door I had glimpsed Keres’s study through when I first arrived for dinner.
I test the handle and find it locked, so I pull one of the lockpicks disguised as pins from my hair.
Stooping to get a better line of sight, I insert it into the lock, using precise movements to manipulate the tumblers until I hear the satisfying click.
“Impressive,” Raven murmurs as I push the door open and we slip inside, silently closing the door behind us. His voice is low, almost intimate. “You’ve really sharpened your skills.”
The words could be meaningless filler, but there’s something in his tone—something deliberate. More than just casual observation. A challenge, maybe.
I glance at him, arching a brow. His expression is softer than usual, but I know him too well to fall for that act. “Picking locks?” I toss back, keeping my tone light, though my pulse skips. “Hardly a talent worth mentioning.”
“Among other things,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into that infuriatingly familiar smirk. “Although I seem to recall a time you threatened to melt those picks into slag because they wouldn’t cooperate.”
I almost—almost—smile at the memory. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Doesn’t it just?” he murmurs, stepping a fraction closer, his gaze lingering on me. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—regret? Nostalgia?
Whatever it is, it’s dangerous.
He’s still looking at me, and there’s a weight in his gaze that makes my throat tighten. I look away, unable to pick apart whether it’s his words or that faint shadow of what we used to be that makes me feel unmoored.
Darkness envelops the room, with only a faint glimmer of light emanating from a solitary aura atop the desk positioned at the heart of the space.
The soft, flickering glow casts ominous shadows that dance around the edges of the furniture, giving the room an eerie and unsettling atmosphere.
It highlights faint scuff marks on the floor, while also illuminating the door on the far wall of the dimly lit space.
I clear my throat. “Is that the door?”
“Yes.” Without hesitation, Raven darts forward, his feet moving soundlessly across the marble floor. “Can you grab that aura for me?”
I do as he asks. The coolness of the glass orb in my palm is a stark contrast to the burning light emanating from within.
With a sense of anticipation, I bring the aura closer, lowering myself to a kneeling position as I direct its glow toward the door handle.
As the light glimmers off the polished metal, my eyebrows rise in surprise.
Intricate goiteía are carved into every spare bit of space.
There are the ones I know for seal, lock, and silence.
But others are unknown and yet…oddly familiar.
“Have you ever seen these before?” I ask, eyes darting to him. The set of his jaw is tense, the muscles straining as he contemplates the symbols before him. When he gives a small nod, a fleeting expression of guilt crosses his face, causing my heart to plummet.
His lips press together for a moment before he speaks, and when he does, his tone is quieter than I’ve heard all night. “Only here.” He pauses, his gaze locking on the door as though he can see straight through it. “And it didn’t end well.”
I freeze, the weight of his words pressing against my rib cage. “What do you mean?”
He exhales through his nose, like releasing the answer costs him something. “Kestrel.” His hand lifts, then falls to his side as though the memory of Alpha Flight’s former commander has drained him of the will to hold the moment any longer. “Trying to nullify these marks…it’s what killed him.”
The world narrows to an unbearable stretch of silence.
“What?” My voice cracks, the word barely audible.
“Kestrel,” he repeats, more resolute now.
He meets my gaze, his expression carefully controlled, though there’s something restrained beneath the surface.
“He was trying to disable this door the last time we were here. We didn’t recognize the counter-wards hidden in the marks.
” He pauses, swallowing briefly before continuing, his tone measured.
“The heavy protections on this door can only mean that it’s important. ”
The white glow of the aura trembles in my grasp, my fingers tightening painfully around it.
The steady pulse in my chest turns erratic, fluttering against my ribs like a caged thing.
My breath comes shallow, each exhale dragging against my lungs as I search his face for…
what? Reassurance? Denial? Anything to make this easier to process.
It doesn’t come.
I slip a tentative hand into his instead, giving his fingers a small squeeze between mine. “I’m so sorry, Raven.”
He nods once, the gesture tight and abrupt. Our eyes meet, and for a moment we just look at each other. Then he clears his throat, releasing my hand as though the touch is too much to bear.
“We should finish what we came here for,” he says, voice thick with unshed emotion.
With a nod, I offer him the aura, and he takes it without a second thought, his gaze fixed and unwavering as I return to the cluttered desk.
I snatch up a scrap of parchment, a quill, and inkpot, then bring them back to where Raven remains fixated on the intricate handle.
It’s as if he believes that by sheer force of will and unwavering attention, he can unlock the hidden meanings that lie within the markings.
I keep my mind blank and my hand steady as I copy the marking onto the parchment, taking care with each stroke.
The true magic of goiteía comes from the conscious thought of imbuing them with power.
You need to visualize your intent as you take a little thread of the power from your soul and stitch it into the mark.
Tracing them as I am now won’t have any effect.
“Don’t,” Raven says, his voice sharp as he realizes what I’m doing. “El, stop. These marks—”
He cuts himself off, stepping closer, his hand brushing mine where I grip the quill as though he’s about to snatch it from my grasp.
“I’m just copying them so we can research them later.” I pull away from him and continue my task. “This has to be it. It has to mean something.”
“It does. But it’s not worth risking everything. Not yet.”
With a nod, I complete the final stroke and blow softly on the fresh ink. Once it’s dry, I pass it to Raven and return the quill and inkpot back to the desk. “Now we can figure these out without constantly breaking into a prince’s rooms.”
“Brave and foolish,” Raven mutters as he looks over the parchment. “Some things never change.”
A flicker of annoyance stirs in my chest, though it burns less intensely than before. I shove it aside, placing the aura back on the desk as we both scan the room. Making sure we haven’t left any trace of our intrusion behind.
We step back into the antechamber, and I pull the picks from my hair to secure the door once more, but Raven stiffens, his gaze snapping toward the entrance.
Voices in the hall.
Fuck.
Raven pushes me back into the study, swiftly pressing the door shut behind us just as the one outside bursts open.
He cages me against the wall, his head tilted as we both strain to listen. The laughter and muffled voices just outside should hold my focus. Instead, all I can think about is how close Raven is—how his arm brushes against my shoulder, his chest inches from mine.
Gods, I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this aware of someone. Romance rarely finds a place within the Aviary, yet over the past year, I’ve shared fleeting moments with strangers. None of those encounters, however, have left me as keenly conscious as this one does now.
Raven’s breath brushes against my temple, and the faint scent of smoke, honey, and cinnamon wraps around me until I can feel it seeping into my bloodstream.
He shifts his weight, leaning closer to the door, and his chest grazes mine.
The contact makes my traitorous heart leap, and I clench my hands into fists against my sides to stop the unsteady shiver that threatens to escape.
My legs feel like they might give out entirely if I don’t keep still.
“You’re holding your breath again,” Raven whispers, his voice so quiet I almost convince myself I imagined it.
“Am I?” I whisper back, trying—failing—to sound detached.
He leans closer, and I can feel the heat of his words against my skin when he murmurs, “You know, if you wanted to get this close to me, princess, all you had to do was ask.”