21. Raven
Day three without a word from Chace, and day four without a prince sighting. Not that I was counting or anything.
With a yawn and a lazy roll to the side, I curled my arm under my pillow, gazed out the double glass doors to the terrace, and smiled.
The light of day was still young, but a murder of crows and one unusually large raven already awaited me, covering all the open spaces.
They perched along the railing and on the patio bistro set.
They even hopped around on the stone-covered floor.
Since they continued to hang around, messages or not, I had taken to feeding them scraps each morning. I had done so the past two days, not caring what any of the palace personnel thought on the matter. Feeding my feathery friends brought me bliss.
An idea had hit me late in the night when I had been unable to quiet my mind, and this morning, I decided to poke at that idea, to find out if it would work.
Bolting to my knees and twisting toward the headboard, I reached behind it and grabbed the hidden letters from Chace. Three in total. I then snatched the bread stashed on the nightstand from the previous day’s dinner, dashed to the terrace doors, and threw them open.
“Good morning,” I sang to a flurry of feathered beasts readjusting their location.
I tore the bread and tossed crumbs high and wide. A chorus of caws and a deep croak or gonk were my rewards.
I dropped to the floor and sat with my legs crisscrossed and my back pressed against the doorframe. “Thank you for your morning visit, my friends. I love waking to your feathery, beaked faces.”
I chuckled and tossed the last of the breadcrumbs, then I scratched a hand at my chest, as if I could reach inside and squeeze my heart. I tried my best not to worry and stress about things I had no control over. And at present, the uncontrollable things were many.
The large raven hopped up next to my legs and croaked.
With a gentle hand, I ran a finger over the bird’s feathered head. “If you are going to continue to hang around, I should probably give you a name. What do you think?”
“Gonk.”
My responding smile was immediate. “All right, then. I’ll think on what name best suits you.
In the meantime…” I bent low as if to whisper a conspirators’ activity, which I was.
“Can you take these and keep them safe for me until I ask for them back?” I held Chace’s three letters, pressed together and low to the ground. “Hide them somewhere safe.”
The raven’s head swung between me and the letters only once. With a decided croak and a hop, the messages were in his clutch, and he took to the sky. I raised a hand to my face, blocking the morning sun, and watched the bird fly from sight.
In the distance, the raven passed a crow sweeping in toward the palace’s inner court, where my room happened to be situated. I dared not hope, and yet I did, if only a smidgen. The bird veered toward my location, a flash of white against the block of black.
I pressed my hands together, my eyes glued to the incoming bird.
Please be a letter. Please be a letter.
With a calming breath, I slid my hands to my thighs and reminded myself that I wasn’t a silly, lovesick high school reaper. I was a full-grown female, who was merely worried about my coreaper. After all, three days had passed without a word.
And, well, try as I might to focus my thoughts elsewhere, the thing that had happened between us…the fight turned…ugh. Yeah, that kept creeping into the back of my mind.
Did those three days without communication speak to his regret?
I didn’t want to give energy to that doubt…that thought…that was attempting to undermine my confidence.
The crow dropped onto the table, hopped into my lap, and deposited a message.
I stifled a squeal and started to unroll the new correspondence.
“Do you always talk to the birds?”
My back stiffened at the sound of Winter’s voice. I hadn’t heard him come in.
Crushing the letter in the palm of my hand and pressing it at my side, I twisted toward the open door to the receiving room.
The prince sat in a chair positioned to face into the bedchamber.
He slouched with his legs spread, and his head propped on a fist, elbow weighted into the chair arm.
The restraints Lucas had snapped into place several nights prior around Winter’s wrists were still locked into place.
With the one around his neck gone, the prince appeared to have earned a reprieve.
I glanced down to remind myself of what sleepwear I donned. Comfortable, oversized pieces. Probably more of his clothing.
I adjusted to better face him. “How long have you been sitting there?”
“A while,” he replied dryly.
I pressed my mouth into a frown. “What is a while?”
His lips twitched into a lazy smile. “Long enough to see your excitement at finding the birds waiting for you when you woke up.”
Heat rushed up my neck and across my cheeks. If he had been watching since I awoke, then how much had he seen? Everything? Did he know about the crows delivering letters?
He pushed off the chair arm and sat straighter. “You’re feeding them. Can I assume that is why they have been crowding the palace roof and the many terrace spaces?”
“No.” I choked on a laugh. “They were here before I started feeding them. I’m just being kind.”
“Uh-huh.” He leaned forward, pressing his folded arms into his thighs, and studied me.
I looked away, unsure how to feel. Relieved that he appeared to be all right? Or angry that he had let himself into my rooms…again?
Maybe both. Maybe feeling both emotions, and more, was acceptable.
Leaping to my feet, I straightened my top and pants and marched to the bed to fluff the pillows and pull the covers into place in a show of making the bed. The action provided me the chance to slip my most recently received message out of sight.
“Listen, Winter. Don’t get me wrong.” I spun to face him. “I’m glad you’re all right. The last time I saw you…”
The image of Winter’s magical stormed-blue eyes jumped to mind, stealing my words. My gaze wandered to the view of the terrace as I grappled for and caught my thought.
Returning my attention to him, I folded my arms across my chest with a huff. “You can’t keep letting yourself into my private space whenever you feel like it.”
“I know.” He bowed his head. “Boundaries have never been one of my strong points. They were rarely enforced where I was concerned.”
“Well, they should be.” I shifted my weight.
He raised his head, his cerulean gaze meeting mine. “You’re right. They should.”
He stood and took a step forward, and fighting as I did to hold my ground, I shifted backward a fraction. Trapped in his stare, I couldn’t forget the sensation of being pulled apart from the inside when he’d extracted his magic.
Noting my backward shift, he paused. “I owe you an apology. Several, it would seem.”
“I’m listening.” I lifted my chin.
He released a sigh and relaxed his arms and shoulders. “I shouldn’t have come to your rooms the other night in such a state. I shouldn’t have come on to you the way I did. I was utterly disrespectful. And I should have been far gentler when I pulled my magic from your system.”
He ventured another step closer, and I reacted with a retreat. I bumped into the nightstand.
“You’re afraid of me.”
I kept my mouth shut. Before this morning, I thought I would be fine, but looking upon him now, my emotions were in a knot.
He stalked forward and lifted his hand as if intending to caress my cheek, but he paused before touching my skin. A flicker of unidentified emotion played behind his eyes, and his hand dropped to mine.
He gently gathered my fingers in his. “I will be forever sorry for my actions. Know that it was never my intention to hurt or scare you.”
I stared at our connected hands before raising my gaze in search of his. “What did it feel like? All that magic inside of you?”
He sucked back a sharp breath, his attention momentarily lost in whatever he saw in my eyes.
“Oh, Raven.” He shook his head. “It was otherworldly. You cannot imagine—”
A tiny yelp startled us both, turning our attention toward the bedchamber door.
Neive stood in the opening between rooms, her mouth agape. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t be here.”
Winter snaked his hand through his hair and squeezed his fingers into a fist. His eyes pinched closed for half a second.
“There is no reason for concern. I’m fine now.” His attention returned to me, and he glided his hand down my arm. “I was just apologizing to Ms. Gunn for the other night.”
“Very good, Your Highness.” Neive bustled into the room and threw open the wardrobe doors.
Only one of my two outfits hung within. The other I had worn the day before.
I’d been trading back and forth between them every other day, allowing one to be laundered while I wore the other.
Neive shuffled the outfit back and forth across the hanging bar, as if hoping more options would magically appear.
She released a small sigh and turned back to face Winter. “I was not questioning your wellness, merely pointing out the fact you are standing in a lady’s room. A lady”―she motioned to me―“who has yet to get properly dressed for the day.”
“Very well.” He raised his hands in surrender and stepped away. “You win. I shall wait in the other room.”
He stalked toward the receiving room.
“No reason to wait.” Neive followed him out the door. “I am quite sure there are many other things demanding your attention.”
“None as important as Ms. Gunn.” His voice came from an unseen point in the next room.
Neive shook her head with a soft huff and turned back to me. “Would you like me to help you dress? Or would you prefer to handle everything on your own?”
Every day Neive asked the same question, and every day I replied with the same answer, as I did so then.
“Very good.” She bowed slightly, then she stepped into the next room and pulled the doors closed.
A bickering between the prince and the lady’s maid immediately ensued in the other room. I pressed my ear to the door and listened.
“You shouldn’t be in her rooms,” Neive said.
“Neive,” he tempered.
A slight scoff left me imagining the prince reaching for Neive and her pulling away.
“No, Winter.”
My mouth dropped open at the casual slip of the prince’s name from Neive’s lips.
“The Crown… I don’t want to lose…”
“You will not lose your position. I will make sure of that.”
“Like you did with Camilla?” Neive’s retort all but hissed through the air.
I bit down on my lip at the seamstress’s name. I had already deduced that the woman had been excused from her employment at the palace, but the words in the next room made the affair sound scandalous.
“That was different.” Winter lowered his voice. “It was.” His voice rose an octave as if trying to convince a skeptical Neive. “Are you carrying my child?”
He spoke the question so low he practically whispered it, but with me straining, ear pressed to the door, I caught the barely there words.
The receiving room fell silent, and the noiseless moments dragged for endless minutes. Long enough that I began to worry they had managed to leave without a sound.
But then, Neive said, “The curse.”
“You would have been showing before we all got stuck in time, so I think you’re safe.” His delivery carried an air of boredom mixed with frustration.
I threw my hand over my mouth to muffle my gasp. Lucas had mentioned Winter’s more liberal days, but hearing it discussed in whispers brought the image of that Winter into more vivid color. Had Winter and Neive had a serious secret relationship? Or had it been a fling? A one-night stand?
“So, as you can see, different situations entirely. He was the heir apparent,” he said, talking about his brother and the relationship he’d obviously had with Camilla, “and I am but the spare. The Crown carries far fewer concerns about my whereabouts than it did with his unsanctioned procreation.”
I wasn’t so sure Winter’s assessment of his grandmother was accurate, but I wasn’t going to correct him. And I definitely wasn’t going to admit to listening in on their conversation.
“You’re right, of course,” Neive said. “My apologies.”
“There is no need, my dear friend. We understand each other. That is all that matters.”
I shifted to abandon my post (my eavesdropping) and get dressed for the day, but then the sound of the front apartment door opening stilled my motion. The door closed with a thunk, and footsteps moved briskly into the room. Then they faltered.
“Dear sweet gods,” Lucas said with overzealous surprise. “What are you doing in here?”
“I owed her an apology,” Winter replied.
“Damn straight,” Lucas blurted. “And then some. I can’t remember the last time I saw you so crazed.”
Silence. The only sound was the flutter of crow wings on the terrace.
“Is it true?” Neive asked. “Were you really that high? And off her magic?”
“No,” Winter said. “You do not understand, and we shall not speak of it.”
“You could help us understand,” Lucas countered.
“I said no,” Winter reiterated. “Now do your jobs.”
A moment of silence followed the order, then the soft clanging of dishes. The sounds suggested breakfast had been delivered and would be sitting there waiting for me, getting cold.
Steeling my determination, I quietly pushed away from the door, snagged Chace’s letter from beneath the bedding, and marched into the bathroom.
In the privacy of the wash space, with the door closed and the water running, I read his message.
Beautiful Black Bird,
Please…please, avoid the invisible winds beyond the walls of your cage. Forgo outdoor flight and stay safe on your perch until the caw of the crow tells you otherwise.
I know it is not in your nature to accept requests without question, but this time I implore you to listen and heed. This isn’t an order, but an appeal. One I hope you take to your golden black bird heart.
Well, that hadn’t lifted my spirits like I had hoped.