The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(14)
Problem was, the feeling inside me didn’t care about what I had to do. It didn’t care that I wanted to help Rhodaire, that I wanted to restore normalcy and peace and happiness. All it did was remind me that if I couldn’t even do those things for myself, I sure as Saints couldn’t do anything for Rhodaire.
“Take a few deep breaths,” Kiva said.
I forced air deep into my lungs, then back out. Already, my head felt a little clearer.
“Sit beside me.”
I moved to the edge of the bed. She stood. Slowly, I did too.
“Now get dressed. I’ll be back to get you soon.”
I marched into my closet, still feeling tired but better. That was always Kiva’s point—I had to take everything one step at a time. I just wished she’d let me help her.
Kneeling before my armoire, I pulled open the bottom drawer, shifting aside sweaters to reveal the egg. I ran my fingers along the smooth shell, and the quiet humming danced up my arm, settling my stomach and chasing away the snake coiled about my neck.
Bonds weren’t formed between crow and rider until after the hatching, and yet something about the connection between the egg and me felt intensely personal. It made me feel seen. Like the crow inside already knew me and I, it.
If I couldn’t hatch it, I couldn’t stop my engagement, couldn’t protect Rhodaire or begin to rebuild it.
But first, I had to survive the next few hours.
*
I stood beside Caliza among a small crowd gathered outside the entrance hall, Kiva at my back. The massive wooden doors were pinned open, revealing the circular courtyard beyond leading to the north gates and the main road between the Thereal and Caravel Wings.
Caliza’s handmaid had helped me dress, as I didn’t have my own. A lifetime spent wearing pants and shirts made it unnecessary, especially when I often rose earlier than the castle staff to train, and most Rhodairen dresses were simple enough that it wasn’t needed.
While I couldn’t care less about impressing the prince, there was no denying the dress Caliza had commissioned was beautiful. It was made in simple Rhodairen fashion, with several silvery tiers of sheer cloth layered like the petals of a rose over a gray base.
I’d almost worn gloves. After the fire, I’d worn them constantly to hide the bandages, and later, the scars. Most people refrained from asking me exactly what’d happened, but almost everyone stared. Kiva had talked me into going without them once, and I’d left them behind since.
The late afternoon sky mirrored the gray of my dress, turning the air humid and threatening thunder.
Caliza wore a swirling steely dress lined in white that complemented my own. I imagined us from Ericen’s perspective, two storm clouds drifted down from the sky, and my confidence surged.
This was my territory, my home. Whoever Ericen was, I could handle him.
Horses rounded the bend ahead, followed by a navy-blue carriage and several more mounted soldiers. The carriage was elegant, bedecked in gold that sparkled even in the filtered sunlight. The horses were beautiful, massive creatures, larger than any I’d ever seen, with glistening coats of pure black. The soldiers made for imposing figures on their broad backs, clothed in dark armor and armed to the teeth.
Caliza slipped her hand into mine. Before I could pull away, she squeezed it gently and let go. I released a breath and forced my face to go blank. I refused to be impressed or intimidated.
The procession pulled around the courtyard, the carriage stopping directly before us. My chest constricted, my fingers drumming on my leg. Two soldiers dismounted and approached the carriage door. I curled my fingers into my dress. The carriage door glided open.
Prince Ericen was one of the most attractive men I’d ever seen. With a short crop of black hair and eyes brighter than a bluebird’s feathers, he was all crisp, clean edges and rich, manicured Illucian style. Near my age, he had broad shoulders and a lean build, and although tall, he was still shorter than Kiva.
The prince approached, flanked by two guards. His cold eyes scanned the crowd, the castle, the grounds—evaluating, judging, and duly unimpressed. His lip curled, a sneer spreading across his face.
A man standing beside Caliza bowed and said, “May I present Prince Ericen Rulcet.”
The prince stopped a few feet away and bowed to Caliza—barely. “Your Majesty.” His low voice had a slight rasp to it.
Caliza inclined her head. “Welcome to Rhodaire, Prince Ericen. May I introduce my sister, Anthia Cerralté.”
I dipped into a small curtsy that he met with a half bow, his gaze sweeping over me until we were eye to eye. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They peered unrelentingly into mine, cold and sharp as daggers carved from ice. I held his gaze without blinking, straightening my back and tilting my chin up.
Caliza’s voice broke our silent battle. “Please come inside, Prince Ericen. We’ve prepared dinner.”
Ericen’s gaze held mine a moment longer before finding Caliza. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
The crowd slowly dispersed as people returned to their work, and we led Ericen through the castle to the back patio. Two of his guards stayed with him, as large on foot as they’d looked on horseback. Their presence felt tangible behind me, but I kept my eyes forward until we arrived at the patio table.
Caliza and I sat at one end with Kiva and her guards behind us. Ericen took the other end with his. The table laden with fruit, cheese, and bread made my stomach churn. It looked like a simple dinner, but it felt like a war negotiation.