The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(43)

As much as I hated Razel, hated Illucia, that much I understood. Her need for revenge was the same one that burned in my chest every time I looked at her.

Ericen held my gaze. “I’m a Vykryn, and I’ll be Valix after my mother. I serve Illucia, and I serve her.” He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t condone what she did to Rhodaire, or Jindae, or the Ambriels. I don’t believe the world is ours to take.”

He’s a loyal soldier. Ericen accepted his place and obeyed orders, and he cared about Illucia and its people, but I was starting to think he didn’t fit. Perhaps he wasn’t the man he’d been pretending to be when I first met him, at least not completely. Was that why his soldiers didn’t respect him? Why the people on the streets barely inclined their heads, if they noticed him at all? Because he wasn’t the Illucian prince they wanted.

My eyes flickered to his wound. “Is that why you don’t get along with her?” I asked.

He stiffened. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Everything.”

“Ah, yes, the expert on people is the girl who’s avoided them for half a year.”

“See?” I threw up my hands, and his fingers curled into fists, as if trying to draw back the words.

He was saved from answering by the arrival of our food. A platter of short ribs, a bowl of mashed potatoes and garlic, and a salad with tomatoes and goat cheese, along with the plate of thick bread that seemed to accompany every meal in the kingdom.

I picked up my fork and knife but quickly found the knife to be unnecessary. The beef was so tender, it practically fell apart. I was so focused on it and intent on ignoring Ericen that his next words were like a shock of ice.

“Tell me about the crows,” he said quietly.

I nearly dropped my fork, my answer leaping out reflexively. “No.”

He didn’t look surprised, but he did seem bothered by my answer, his brow furrowing. I didn’t care. No matter who he was, kind or cruel, I would not talk to an Illucian about the crows. I couldn’t.

We finished dinner, which Ericen paid for despite the cook’s protests, and stepped back out onto the bridge. Rather than return to the carriage, Ericen directed me to a shop across the street nearly shrouded in trees.

“I didn’t get dessert, because I figured you’d like this place.” He held the door open for me.

Bakery was too small a word for what surrounded me. Glass case after glass case filled with pastries of every kind, the air thick with the smell of sugar and freshly baked bread. Where a moment ago, my stomach had been achingly full, I now wanted to try everything I saw.

“We can get some to take back too.” Ericen smiled at my slack-jawed expression, and I faltered. That smile, that real smile, was like a glimpse of gold veined in stone. It made me want to trust him.

We spent the next ten minutes stuffing a box with pastries, the woman behind the counter letting us taste whatever we wanted along the way. We tried nearly everything in the shop: a lemon tart with berries on top, a chocolate mousse with caramel chips, an oatmeal cookie with swirls of butterscotch. By the time we left, a box of pastries tucked under my arm, I could barely move.

Mist had begun to gather along the bridge, turning the sona lamps into spots of blurred color that blended into each other like paints on a canvas. People talked and laughed, walking arm in arm along the pristine sidewalks.

Something was missing. I paused, scanning the length of the street. There were no patrols, no soldiers on duty.

And not a single Jin or Ambriellan.

The mist prickled at my skin. Up here was a world of light and color, while a few streets away, people slowly forgot what those words meant as they toiled beneath a regime that cared nothing for them.

Ericen slowed as we passed the tavern with the music. “Do you want to dance?” he asked.

“What?” My thoughts were still on the contrast between the city’s areas. He didn’t seem to hear me, instead taking my hand and pulling me into the tavern.

The tables had been cleared aside, leaving a space filled with people spinning and hopping to the music. I set my box of pastries on an empty table a second before Ericen drew me into the throng. I nearly resisted, but the music pried at the tension in my shoulders and demanded I let it out.

We couldn’t have stood out any more: he dressed in his Vykryn uniform, dual swords across his back, and me with my brown Rhodairen skin, so much darker than the pale faces around us.

It wasn’t difficult to pick up the moves. The pattern was repetitive, and I’d done a similar dance once when visiting the Ambriels. We hopped and spun, skipped and twirled. I couldn’t help but laugh at the incongruous sight of Ericen armed to the teeth and dancing in time to the music.

Half his attention seemed to be somewhere else though. He kept scanning the crowd, his bright eyes narrowed. I missed a step while watching him, skipping to the side when I should have gone forward, and collided with a burly man beside me. I stumbled, and Ericen caught me before I could lose my balance entirely.

“Watch it!” Ericen snapped at the man, who scowled.

“Maybe your Rhodairen whore should keep an eye on her feet.”

Ericen surged toward him, and despite the man being a head taller, pinned him easily against the wall. The music stopped. People stared, the dancers nearest us backing away to create space.