The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(41)

Anyone else, I’d have said she used the moonblades because she liked them. But this was Illucia. Using those blades sent a message: I own these.

The soldiers who’d stopped to watch stood at Razel’s side of the ring, clearly staking their support.

“Shearen,” Razel said, indicating the blond guard. “If you would.”

“On one!” Shearen called. “Three, two—”

Razel lunged before he finished the second number. Ericen had anticipated it, catching the first strike of both her moonblades on one sword. They executed swift and merciless attacks, metal ringing in a shrill call. Razel clearly had an edge in speed, Ericen in strength.

People started to gather around the training ring, forming a circle. There were calls of support and whistles for the queen, Shearen’s voice rising above the rest. My guard pressed closer to my back, hand on the hilt of his sword.

The fighters struck and parried, twirled and dipped, each avoiding close calls from the other’s blades. Ericen barreled through his attacks like a man dead set on proving himself, while Razel’s every strike made it clear she aimed to injure. Her eyes gleamed with a strange dark fire, as if Ericen were a demon she fought for her very soul.

As she blocked one of Ericen’s attacks, she ducked under his follow-up strike and sprang up, driving her elbow into Ericen’s chin. He stumbled back, barely bringing a sword around to knock aside the thrust of her blade. The ferocity of her attack struck the sword from his hand, leaving him with one.

Off balance, it was all Ericen could do to keep up with her torrent of strikes. She struck high and low, forcing him to cover a wide range and expose new targets. Right as she sliced at his neck, she swept low with her foot, catching him in the knees. He struck the ground hard, and she leapt over him, driving her weapon down.

Ericen just managed to get his sword around to deflect the blade. It shot down and away, the metal screaming. The blade sliced across his cheek. He didn’t make a sound. Razel straightened, hovering over him like a wolf over a fresh kill, blood dripping from the curve of one blade. They held each other’s gazes, unmoving. Then she smiled, stepping off him.

Ericen rolled to the side as the crowd clapped. His eyes met mine for half a second, the cut stretching from his jaw to cheekbone leaking blood. The realization of what I’d nearly gotten myself into slammed into me, and I sucked in a ragged breath.

The prince shot to his feet and grabbed his other sword. He sheathed them both and slipped out of the ring. I started to go after him, but Kiva seized my arm before I could move an inch. Then she casually slipped in front of me. “Razel’s watching.”

“So what?” I hissed.

“Do you want her to challenge you again?”

The tension washed out of me. “No.” Not after what I’d just seen. If she could take down Ericen like that, I wouldn’t last a second, as rusty as I was.

Razel exited the ring, sliding her moonblades into their sheaths on her back with smooth precision. She hadn’t even cleaned the blood. She caught my gaze, the challenge pulsating in the air between us. Then she smiled and turned back for the castle.

A chill trickled down my spine—this wasn’t over. Razel had come to make a power play, and Ericen had intervened. She would find another way.





Thirteen


A couple of hours later, Ericen and I sat in a carriage heading down Sordell’s main street. The rain had let up, and though the sky hadn’t cleared, patches of stars shone overhead. Beneath them, Illucian citizens mixed almost indecipherably with soldiers in the streets.

Ericen wore his Vykryn uniform, and I’d changed into a dress along with a thin leather coat and boots. The prince didn’t say a word. When he’d left the arena, he hadn’t gone to the healer’s quarters to get the wound bandaged. It had stopped bleeding, however, the cut much shallower than I’d thought.

I studied him as he studied the city outside. Why had he intervened with Razel? Had he been that eager for a fight with his mother, or had he known I wouldn’t be prepared? Either way, I couldn’t shake the feeling something had shifted between us.

As the door opened, Ericen met my gaze for the first time, and I raised an eyebrow. “I can tell this is going to be a very productive meal.”

He smiled in the way that made me think he might not be as horrid as he seemed. “Stealing my lines is a cheap move.”

“You’re not worth more effort in this state.”

“Fair point. I shall endeavor to be more infuriating.” He stepped out of the carriage, offering me his hand. I climbed out on my own.

We stood at the opening of a massive bridge, easily the width of five normal roads. The river it spanned was nearly double that, with several arches along the bridge’s length letting water through in a multipronged waterfall. Colorful lights reflected off even more colorful buildings, casting a rainbowlike glow across the water. The bridge was a part of the city itself, like the creators had met the river and continued building right across it.

“People call it the Colorfalls. A hundred years ago, the bridge was a gift from Rhodaire to cross the River Ren,” Ericen said as we started toward the bridge. “It was made with the help of your earth crows. All the city’s best food is here.”

Though it seemed strange to imagine, it made sense that Rhodaire and Illucia might not have always hated each other. When had that changed?