The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(77)

Shearen paled, swallowing hard.

“Of course she didn’t,” I said.

Razel laughed. “Poor dear. You’ve been lied to. Your mother knew full well what Lord Turren was doing. She gave the order.”

My stomach flipped, and the ground tilted, even as my mind screamed she was lying.

“Enough.” Ericen’s voice was quiet but strong. I clung to it, reassuring myself Razel was only trying to get inside my head.

She rounded on him. “You’re right, Eri. That’s not why we’re here.” She twirled the moonblade, eyes roving over Kiva. “We’re here because my servant refuses to tell me what she’s done with the letter she took from my room.”

My eyes flickered to Auma, who to my surprise had shed her meek exterior entirely. She stood straight, hands clasped so tight, the knuckles had turned white, as if her hands couldn’t be trusted not to wrap themselves around the queen’s throat. Razel had clearly tried to beat the information out of her to no avail.

“What letter?” I asked.

Razel smiled dangerously. “I was hoping you’d make this difficult.”

She glided over to one of the two hearths housing a strong fire and pulled a key out of her pocket, tossing it into the flames. Tension crept up my shoulders and into the back of my neck.

“I can take your friend away whenever I want. I can take your kingdom whenever I want.” She stalked toward me. “I can make you do whatever I want, whenever I want, because if you don’t listen, if you continue to defy me, I will take everything from you.”

My throat closed.

Razel twirled her moonblade and smiled that vicious, sharklike smile. “Retrieve the key.”

“What?”

Razel stepped past me, holding the edge of the moonblade to Kiva’s chest. “The key is to your friend’s shackles. Get it, or I start carving her pretty snow-white skin.”

My mind refused to process Razel’s words. I stared first at her, then Ericen, whose face had gone pale, before settling at last on the flames. They snapped like liquid orange teeth, waiting to tear me apart.

I have to get the key.

The words slowly sank in. Panic rose in my chest, my heart thundering in my ears. The tether between Res and me roared to life, and he pulled for my attention.

“I’m fine, Thia. Don’t—” Kiva’s words dissolved into a hiss. Razel had dug the moonblade’s grip spike into Kiva’s skin below the collarbone.

“What is it they call children like you in Korovi?” the queen asked sweetly. “Okorn? Perhaps I’ll carve it here.”

“Stop.” My voice was barely more than a whisper, and I hated myself for it. Hated myself for being so afraid, for letting her win, for waiting long enough for her to send a bead of blood trailing down Kiva’s chest. I swallowed hard, gathering my voice and strength. “I’ll give you the letter.”

“I know you will.” Razel lifted the blade to Kiva’s neck. “Now get the key.”

“Thia—”

Kiva fell silent as I caught her gaze. I held it a moment longer, then faced the hearth and stepped toward it.

The key sat at the base of the hearth. It hadn’t been in the flames long enough to glow, but I’d have to reach through the fire to touch it. My mind drifted, remembering the acrid smell of burning skin and singed hair, the sharp, white-hot pain like thousands of needles digging into my skin.

The flames swirled and snapped, as if daring me to try and get past them. My nails dug into my palms, sweat building on my skin. I can do this. The fire crackled, making me break out into a cold sweat. Res’s call along the line was distant.

Calm down. You have to do this. The key is iron; it won’t be that hot yet. One of Caylus’s experiments had taught me that. Some metals heated faster than others. Iron fell somewhere in the middle. The longer you wait, the hotter it gets.

But no amount of science could change what else I knew: the fire was too hot. If I reached in, I’d never use my hand again.

A low hiss broke my concentration, and I whirled around. Razel had drawn a sharp circle in Kiva’s skin, and blood ran in little rivulets from the wound. Kiva gritted her teeth and caught my gaze. In it, I found the strength to face the fire again.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I crouched and snatched the key out of the flames with my scarred hand, the fire so hot, it felt cold. The feeling barely had time to register before I’d pulled my arm free, the key clutched in my palm. Then my mind caught up to my body. I screamed.

My hand sprung open of its own accord, but the key didn’t fall; it’d been seared into my palm. I shook my hand wildly without thinking. The key clattered to the ground, taking the first layer of my skin with it and leaving behind a key-shaped burst of angry red and white over the scar tissue of my palm.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was distantly aware of Kiva screaming and Ericen yelling, of someone laughing and my own sanity slowly slipping, and behind that, something else. Something I couldn’t process.

Suddenly, Kiva was beside me, and I wondered when I’d fallen to my knees. My right hand clutched the forearm of my left, my eyes pinned on the key-shaped design, my breath refusing to come. Pain ripped through my hand and wrist like a thousand shards of glass tearing through my veins.

I stared at the burns, distantly registering that Kiva’s hands were free, that Razel must have unlocked her shackles, that the key I’d pulled from the flames hadn’t been for her restraints at all.