The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(25)

I felt myself sinking. Felt the familiar weight pressing me so deep inside myself, my body hardly felt like my own, until drawing air felt like breathing water, and I wondered what might happen if I simply stopped.

The door clicked open. I expected Kiva, so when I saw Caliza, her eyes red from tears and her cheeks flushed, I stared. She’d barely closed the door when I started crying. Fumbling with my sheets, I tumbled out of bed, meeting her halfway. Warm arms encircled me, and I buried my face in Caliza’s chest as she pulled me close, each of us seeking the others strength. My knees wobbled, but she held me up until I was able to find the will to stand on my own. Several minutes passed before I drew back.

“I don’t know how to hatch the egg. I leave for Illucia tomorrow, and Mother is—” I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to finish the sentence.

Caliza released a quiet breath before leading me to my reading chair by the window. I collapsed into it, drawing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. She sat down across from me on the ottoman, a hand on my arm, squeezing tight. We stayed there for what felt like hours, and the familiar snake curled around my shoulders.

“Get that look off your face.”

I almost jumped at the sharpness in Caliza’s voice. “What?”

“I know that look. You’ve had it almost every day since Ronoch. It’s the look you get when you’ve given up.”

I turned away. Guilt gnawed at my insides, even as the quiet voice in my head promised this was for the best. Giving up was easier. It was better not to try, not to care.

“Thia.” The forcefulness of Caliza’s voice pulled my gaze.

“What else am I supposed to do? There’s nothing in the library, no one else to ask. There’s nothing left!”

“There’s you.”

My jaw clenched. “Like I said. Nothing.”

“If Ericen said that to you, you’d punch him in the face, and rightfully so. It’s a lie.”

“Maybe it’s not. If I can’t hatch the egg, then what use am I?”

Caliza shifted in her seat, facing me. “Do you know why I wanted the crows to accept me so badly?” I shook my head, and she continued, “Because I was jealous of you.”

I laughed, but her face remained impassive. “I’m serious, Thia. I was jealous of the future you had waiting for you. A life of magic and flight, respect and strength. While you prepared to harness an ancient power, I prepared to shackle myself to a life of politics and planning. Don’t get me wrong,” she said quickly when I started to protest. “This is what I wanted. But it’s not quite so impressive as soaring hundreds of feet in the air on the back of a legendary beast.”

“It’s pretty damn impressive to me,” I muttered.

She smiled softly. “Those reasons could have made me jealous of any rider, but I wasn’t. It was only you. Because I, like everyone, knew what you were.”

“A delinquent?”

“A storm.” She locked gazes with me. “A tempest of lightning and thunder with the kind of heart found only in legends. A heart full of kindness and courage and strength. And when I looked at you, I saw only the woman you would become. The leader you would become.”

She took my hand, holding tight. “Don’t let Razel win. Don’t let her silence the storm inside you. I might be queen, but you were meant to be so much more. Crow or no crow, one way or another, you will fly. You were always meant to rule the sky.”

I stared at her, my hand holding so tightly to hers, it had gone numb. When she spoke, it was so easy to see what she saw. To see the future I could have had, the leader I could have been, and how I’d let it slip away, day by day, sinking deeper and deeper into oblivion.

Don’t let Razel win. Don’t let her silence the storm inside you.

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes until the burning behind them stopped. Then I drew a long, slow breath and let it out. When I opened my eyes, fire burned through every inch of me, and yet I felt strangely calm.

“You’re right.” A smile tugged at my lips.

She smiled back. “I usually am.”

*

My hunt for Kiva ended in the hall outside Caliza’s office. She had stopped abruptly, hand clapping against her hip where her sword should have been. She’d forgotten it.

Kiva never forgot her sword.

That’s enough. Before she could fully turn around, I tackled her through the open door of a nearby empty sitting room. She stumbled but kept her feet.

“I can usually hear you coming,” she said with a frown.

I took in her sloppy braid, her rumpled uniform, and the spot where her sword should hang, its absence so notable, the emptiness felt like a void. This wasn’t Kiva; it was an imposter hiding in her skin, like the creatures from Sella stories that were no longer told.

Catching on to my intentions, Kiva tried to slip away. I blocked the door, arms folded. I’d waited long enough.

“Talk,” I ordered.

“I have nothing to say.”

“And crows can’t fly. Come on, Kiva. Something’s eating away at you.” Literally, judging by the growing shadows beneath her eyes. I unfolded my arms, stepping toward her. She recoiled, and the space between us stretched. Every inch felt like a talon in my chest. I never should have waited.

“What happened that day?” I asked softly. “Please, Kiva. Let me help you.”