The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(73)

“It was intercepted by the queen.” Auma’s eyes were pools of shadows in the faint moonlight.

“And you…stole it?” My half-awake mind struggled to parse what was happening. “Why?”

“It did not belong to her,” Auma stated simply, as if that were the only reason that could possibly matter.

I wasn’t going to argue with her. “Razel’s going to notice this is gone.”

“I will take the blame if she does.”

I studied her. “I don’t understand you. You’d risk your safety to bring me this, but when you’re around Razel, you pretend to be weak. Why? I know you’re not afraid of her.”

“Strength comes in many forms,” she said. “The lion fears only the fox.”

A Trendellan proverb. There was no greater advantage than being underestimated for what you lacked in physical strength. It was the quick, quiet predators you never saw coming.

“Thank you,” I said.

Auma inclined her head. “I have another message as well: Myzae.”

I went stiff. Myzae. The Jin used the same word for both art and magic, and it was the password we’d decided on for news related to Jindae.

“The Jin princess will hear out your proposition in Trendell.”

“What? How? Auma!” I hissed, but she was already gliding from the room on silent feet. By the time I untangled myself from my covers and dashed across the room, the common room door was swinging shut.

My heart fluttered, my breath thinning as my mind raced to catch up. Somehow, Auma was connected to the Jin rebels. She knew what we were doing. I looked to Kiva’s closed door. Was that why she’d stayed close to Kiva? Was she a spy?

Whoever she was, it seemed she was on our side. As were the Jin, for now. They would listen, like Diah would listen, but would they truly pledge their people’s lives to this alliance?

The unanswered questions stretched out before me like a dark, endless hall. Most importantly of all, why had Razel confiscated my letter? Did she suspect me, or was this just another method of control?

I retreated to my room for some powder, then approached the dying embers of the fire with care. Coating the paper in the powder, I unfolded the letter and held it as far away from the fire as I could while still illuminating the invisible ink.

Thia,

I talked to Lady Kerova about Res’s magic. She says this is very common with orphan crows. Without his mother or eggmates around to learn from, you’re his only source of guidance. She also said without his eggmates to challenge him for dominance, he might feel like he doesn’t need his magic. Apparently, some crows just need a little push. I have no idea what that means, but she said to focus on the bond between you and you’ll figure it out.

Good luck,

Caliza

A push? I closed my eyes, reaching along the cord to Res and receiving soft thrums of sleep in response. The feeling flowed through me in a soothing rhythm, like the ebb and flow of the tide.

I prayed Lady Kerova was right.





Twenty-Five


I skipped training that morning, eager to get to Caylus’s and put Lady Kerova’s advice into action. Leaping from the carriage, I burst into the bakery to the scent of sugar and lemon and raced up the stairs, a wrapped parcel of chicken from Tarel in hand. The door was already opening when I reached the top.

“Res was going wild like he does when you’re close,” Caylus explained with a smile.

I grinned, slipping past him and nearly barreling straight into Res, who cawed happily, lifting and lowering his wings in a flutter of excitement and nudging my empty hand with his beak.

“I don’t suppose there was any inexplicable lightning last night?” I asked.

Caylus closed the door and glanced out at the clouded sky. It was a clear, sunny day by Illucian standards, patches of blue among the gray. “Sorry,” he replied. He retreated to the kitchen island where he picked up a chocolate chip scone from the counter and tore off a piece, tossing it to Res.

I stared at him. “Scones? Scones are not part of a crow’s diet!”

“We ran out of chicken,” Caylus said simply, as if that explained why he was now feeding Res sugar and flour. “He wanted breakfast,” he added.

“All he ever wants is breakfast,” I replied with a groan. “And lunch and dinner and a thousand snacks in between. You’d think all that energy would make for some nice lightning.”

In response, Res ruffled his tail feathers and snatched another piece of scone from Caylus’s hand. His beak was almost as large as Caylus’s palm now, but he moved with a delicate grace that left me unconcerned for the safety of Caylus’s fingers.

I released an overdramatic sigh and handed Caylus the package of fresh chicken. “My sister said a friend of ours thinks he needs a push.”

“What sort of push?” he asked, returning the scones to a box along with the chicken.

I shrugged, glancing at Res, who was eyeing the box. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the cord between us. Pulses of contentment slid down from Res, intermixed with excitement and craving. Lady Kerova had said to use the bond between us to push Res into using his magic.

I sent a nudge down the cord. Res paused, silver gaze switching from the scones to me, but nothing more. No spark, no gust of wind. I looked helplessly at Caylus.