The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(42)

The cobblestone street sidewalks were damp from the rain, but people were still out in full force. Giant potted trees lined the street, hung with shards of colored glass reflecting the lantern light. Shops sold everything from thick sheep wool sweaters and scarves to blocks of peat bundled together with dried herbs for different aromas. We passed the open doors of restaurants, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and cooking stew. From a tavern to our right, the music of a string instrument filled the night.

Hanging overhead, strung from one side of the buildings to the next all along the street, dangled countless colored sona lamps. They had glass of deep crimson and purple, bright gold and sunset orange, all casting brightly colored glows on the stone buildings.

I stared at the colors. Sona lamps weren’t cheap; we barely had enough to light the main castle halls in Aris.

This was what conquering kingdoms gave you: wealth and technology.

Without a reliance on magic, Illucia had found other ways to stay competitive. Maybe that was why everything here was so clean, so crisp, as if the city had been newly built. It was beautiful but cold, and I longed for the soul and authenticity of Aris. We may not have sona lamps at every corner or walkways of stone and manicured streets, but at least it felt real.

Ericen led the way to an empty hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the middle of the bridge. The man who greeted us bowed deeply before seating us at a table by the window. He returned a few moments later with cups of water and a bottle of Trendellan wine, pouring us each a glass.

I eyed the wine. “I thought Trendell didn’t trade with Illucia.”

Ericen hesitated a moment before responding. “They don’t.”

Which meant this wine had been stolen. Maybe even from shipments to Rhodaire.

I pushed the glass aside. “This city’s so clean and organized. Does your army patrol the streets righting overturned flowerpots and straightening askew signs?”

“Only the particularly crooked ones,” he replied, and a traitorous smile tugged at my lips. Ericen’s eyes grew warm as he said, “People take a lot of pride in Sordell. My mother doesn’t tolerate laziness. Everyone in the city has a job or supports the kingdom in some way.”

“She sounds like a military commander.”

“She is.” He smirked at the surprise that flitted across my face. “Darkward is also Sordell’s school. All children attend from five until sixteen, when they can either finish the final two years or pick another trade. Over half the city stays committed, but only the best are chosen as Vykryn.”

My gaze dropped to the golden horse head symbol on his chest. Like him.

“No one’s afforded more respect in Illucia than soldiers, except maybe the masters at Darkward. But my mother was trained like every queen and king before her, both to rule and to lead an army in battle. She’s the Valix, leader of the Vykryn, and I will be after her.” He straightened, as if bolstered by his own words.

It made sense. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Razel astride one of those massive Illucian warhorses, prepared to destroy an entire kingdom.

“You’re glowering again.”

I straightened, blinking rapidly. “What?”

“Whenever we discuss my mother, you get that look on your face.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I hurriedly took a sip of water to cover it. Clearly, I hadn’t yet gained Caliza’s level of controlling my emotions in front of people.

“Yeah, well. I have a lot to think about.”

Ericen’s smile faded. “I know this must be hard for you. Being here with us. Constantly.”

I almost dropped my water glass. He looked so genuine, sounded so convincing, as if he might actually care how I felt. A laugh bubbled in my throat at the thought.

He had stepped in to fight Razel for me, and so far, he’d shown me every courtesy since arriving, but caring seemed more than a little unlikely.

“It doesn’t help that I never know which prince I’m talking to,” I replied. “You’ve been practically civil. You’re about due for a flippant comment.”

I expected sarcasm but instead found him weighing me with thoughtful eyes. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Anthia.”

I froze. Surely, I hadn’t heard him right. “What?”

He drew a finger along the intricate design in the tablecloth. “I meant what I said in the carriage. I’m not quite so bad as you think. The things I said to you in Rhodaire—” He stopped, jaw clenching as if to hold back the words. In the end, he simply said, “I regret them.”

I bit my lip. My instinct was to believe him. Kiva always said I was too quick to trust people. She was right, but sometimes I was too. Her mother had raised her to question everything and doubt everyone. I always told myself she was doing as she was trained, that she was being protective. But listening to myself talk with a boy who was supposed to be my enemy, feeling myself begin to trust him, I doubted myself.

“You don’t believe me,” Ericen said.

“I don’t understand you. Your mother hates me. She hates Rhodaire. All Illucians do. How could you want to be friends?” Razel had organized Ronoch for revenge. The last war between our kingdoms before I was born had claimed my father’s life, but it had also resulted in the death of part of Razel’s family. Her father hadn’t lasted long after, and she’d been crowned queen as young as Caliza had been. Didn’t Ericen care about any of that?