The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(50)

We stopped outside one of the stalls, where a horse had her head poking out toward us. Beside her, a tiny foal trembled on uncertain legs, its coat black as night.

“My stallion’s the sire.” He nodded at another stall, the name Callo carved into the wood.

I grinned. “It’s adorable.”

Ericen leaned against the stall door. “Wonderful, I’ll tell the stable master. I’m sure he’ll appreciate knowing his newest warhorse is adorable.” He ran his hand along the mother’s neck in an almost reverent touch.

I snorted. “Did you think a cute animal would make me forgive you?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

“A little bit.”

The foal wobbled toward us, and I reached out, but Ericen seized my hand. I started to snap at him but caught sight of the mare’s dark eyes watching me keenly.

“The mothers can be very…protective.” He released my hand.

I stepped back, then again as a stable hand with a bucket of feed moved toward us.

“Pardon me, Your Highnesses,” she said.

Ericen moved aside as the girl lifted the bucket over the edge of the stall and onto a hook on the other side.

My mouth fell open. “Is that meat?”

“They have a big appetite.” He grinned, but it quickly faded, the lines of his face hardening. Something molten gleamed in his eyes, and I followed his gaze as Shearen entered the barn and disappeared into a stall.

“Not that I wouldn’t like to pummel the guy myself, but is there something between you two?” I asked.

Ericen blinked. He’d been staring hard enough to bore holes. “We just don’t get along.”

“The truest hate is born from the truest love,” I said softly. A Trendellan proverb Caliza’s husband had taught me. The relationship between Shearen and Ericen, the emotion I saw in each of their faces, it didn’t just manifest overnight.

Ericen’s expression hardened. “We were like brothers at Darkward. Almost through our fifteenth year, we were inseparable.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He was under a lot of pressure. His family and mine have always been close, so he had the eye of his superiors, as well as generations of expectations. Then my mother came to visit.” Ericen toyed with a lead line dangling from a wall hitch, as if he’d told this story a thousand times and grown tired of it. “All anyone cared about was catching her attention and earning her favor. Shearen fell in with a new group. At first, I think he was trying to earn her approval, but the person he became to do it, the things he did…” He trailed off, jaw clenching.

I stared. Was the Illucian prince reproaching a fellow soldier for being too horrible?

The stall door Shearen had stepped through opened, and he reappeared leading a pure black stallion. His eyes found us, and he went rigid, then jerked his horse’s lead to direct it outside.

Ericen watched him leave, face impassive. “He became obsessed. We disagreed on everything until, eventually, it drove a wedge between us. Now I think he wants my mother’s approval as much as I do. It’s all he has left. It’s practically become a competition.”

The high expectations of a mother were something I understood. The thought made me pause. Was I empathizing with him?

Shaking away the thought, I turned back to the stall, watching as the mare nudged her foal with her nose. “Did you mean what you said at dinner the other night?” I asked. “About not wanting to be my enemy?”

“Every word.”

“Prove it. Convince your mother to let me go into the city alone. I went to escape the castle. I may even have found a hobby. Something to make me forget where I am and who I’m trapped with. But having those soldiers on my back makes me feel like a prisoner.”

Ericen regarded me in silence, his bright eyes quiet. Then, “I’ll talk to her.”

I let out a breath. “Thank you.” Strangely, some small part of me felt guilty lying to him. But I didn’t have a choice. I needed to be able to visit Caylus alone tomorrow. The future of my kingdom depended on it.

*

Kiva and I trained again the next morning, then returned to our room to bathe and change. Feathers fluttered in my stomach the entire time, the anticipation of meeting the Ambriellan rebel leader nearly overwhelming. I’d been planning what to say to her all morning, to the point that my distraction had made it easy for Kiva to best me in sparring. Even sitting with the egg for a few minutes did little to calm my nerves.

When I emerged from my room, I found Kiva talking to Auma in the doorway. Kiva leaned against the door frame, arms folded, posture softer than she ever allowed it to be. Around her side, I could just see Auma, so much smaller yet somehow equally as strong a presence.

Lunch had been delivered and now sat on the table, an assortment of sandwiches and tea. When Auma spotted me, she bowed and excused herself.

“What do you two talk about?” I asked, settling down to eat.

“We don’t, really.” Kiva joined me at the table. “She listens a lot.”

“You always did like the quiet ones.”

She rolled her eyes before her expression hardened. “She told me how she ended up here. Serving Razel.”

I paused halfway through a sandwich bite and swallowed hard. “I have a feeling it’s not a nice story.”