The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(39)

“I think she’s cute. That’s all.”

“And you respect her skill.” I hadn’t missed the admiration in Kiva’s tone when she noted Auma’s silent step. “All she needs now is talent with a blade and you’ll be smitten.”

“I will throw things at you.”

“I’m thinking a spring wedding.”

“Thia.”

“You can’t wear your guard’s uniform though. I bet we can find a nice suit for you to borrow.”

She seized a scone, and I leapt from my seat with a laugh, narrowly avoiding being pelted in the head.

An hour later, Auma led us down the corridor, my bow a familiar weight across my back. One of the guards posted outside my door had followed us, but my head stayed on a swivel nonetheless. I didn’t trust anyone here besides Kiva and my own soldiers. Still, I already noticed something different in the eyes of the people we passed. Eyes that saw my weapon and didn’t look quite as disgusted as last night’s dinner guests.

Auma led us downstairs to the first floor and through to the back of the castle, where we entered a long, rectangular room. Light flooded the space, forcing me to blink several times to clear my vision. The entire back wall consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, granting light to a room filled with chairs and couches, all organized in clusters around small hearths lit with roaring fires.

Thankfully, the fires were on the edges, and the room was fairly large. I could walk through the middle without getting close to any of them.

A quiet buzz of conversation filled the room as several nobles from last night’s dinner lounged and drank together. A drizzle of rain tapped at the windows, a light haze of fog filling a massive courtyard beyond.

Tension crept into every muscle as my gaze jumped from Illucian noble to soldier and back again. My guard remained stationed at my back, Kiva at my side, both as tense as I was, surrounded by so many potential opponents.

“Good morning.” Ericen’s voice drew me from my inspection as he approached. I stared.

He wore all black leather down to his boots. Black leather straps formed an X across his chest, the hilts of two swords sticking up over each shoulder on his back. Not an inch of pale skin was visible besides his neck and face. He’d become a shadow.

Only the golden head of Illucia’s horse insignia emblazoned above his heart broke up the darkness.

Auma bowed to both of us, then moved deeper into the room, by which point I’d schooled my expression back into neutrality. “Taking down a small army today, are we?”

He smirked. “This is the uniform of the Illucian Vykryns. I didn’t wear it when I was in Rhodaire because it’s a little—”

“Ridiculous?” Kiva suggested.

“Pompous?” I added.

“I was going to say dark for a Rhodairen summer, but I appreciate the compliments,” he said, looking bemused.

“What’s a Vykryn?” I asked.

He straightened. “Illucia’s most elite warriors. It’s a title granted to only a few of the soldiers who graduate Darkward every year.”

My eyes narrowed, my humor gone. Kiva and I exchanged looks. These sounded like the kind of people you sent to cripple an entire nation. The kind that excelled in archery and could kill a crow as it leapt from a burning rookery.

“Good for you,” Kiva said drily. “Do you have a team chant too? Or just matching outfits?”

Ericen’s smile sharpened. “Yes, I suppose they’re not quite as glamorous as the Korovi Miska. Though I suppose you’ve never seen a Miska warrior, have you? Okorn.”

Kiva’s hand flew to Sinvarra, and I seized her wrist a second before she could draw. The room went deathly silent, until only the thunder of my own heart filled my ears. Okorn were what the Korovi called children of banished countrymen.

My voice dropped low enough that only we could hear. “Speak to Kiva that way again, and I’ll put an arrow in you.”

Ericen grinned, actually grinned, as though my threat enthralled him. “That’s not quite what I brought you here for.” And with that, he spun for a glass door in the windowed wall, as if the floor hadn’t very nearly been coated in blood.

Releasing Kiva’s wrist, I watched him go, trying to fit together the pieces of him I’d seen. He wasn’t the boy I’d ridden with in the carriage, trying and failing at civility, nor was he the cruel prince I’d hated in Rhodaire. His flippant comments were like a reflex, as though he’d spent his entire life snapping back and didn’t know how to stop.

Kiva’s gaze drifted to where Auma was piling dishes at an empty table, some of her frustration ebbing. I hid a smile as I said, “I’ll be fine if you want to wait here.”

A very uncharacteristic blush turned her cheeks pink, and she nodded, likely all too happy to go anywhere Ericen wasn’t.

I followed the prince, catching the gaze of one of the soldiers near the fireplace: the boy who’d commented on my scars at dinner. He smiled dangerously. I smiled back until he looked away with a scowl.

The door led out into the courtyard, immediately surrounding me in biting air. I folded my arms over my chest for warmth. Ericen didn’t even seem to notice the chill as he led the way into a massive training area.

There were several distinct sections, from open arenas to archery targets, sword training to endurance courses. Soldiers trained in each one, shouts and the clangs of metal echoing in the courtyard.