The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(8)

Two


Golden sunlight filtered in from what remained of the rookery windows. Heat and the scent of smoke permeated the early afternoon air, but my bones had turned to ice. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the ground, though I’d drawn several pictures in the ash and dust that a warm breeze gently erased.

Memories swirled around me like leaves caught in the wind: meeting Estrel in the rookery for my rider training, teasing Caliza when the crows ignored her commands, sneaking out in the middle of a thunderstorm to sit with a candle among the birds, warm, quiet, content.

I spun Estrel’s bracelet around my wrist. My mother had died not five feet from where I sat, killed by Illucian soldiers. I’d have bet on her over a hundred Illucians, but that night…

I hugged my knees to my chest, trying and failing to imagine what she would do in my situation. Caliza had stuck to her like feathers on a crow, preparing to become queen. I’d spent more time with Estrel, studying as a rider. People said Caliza and I were our mother split in half: me, stubborn and independent, and Caliza, steadfast with a knack for handling people and politics.

Our mother may have swallowed her pride and married Ericen, like Caliza would. Or maybe she’d have thrown the proposal back in Queen Razel’s face. You never knew which side of her you were going to get, if you had her attention at all. Sometimes, I’d struggled to get even that.

For half a second, I considered praying to the Saints, the eight original riders. Legend had it they established Aris with the help of the Sellas, the ancient creatures said to have created the crows. But the Saints hadn’t come on Ronoch. Either they didn’t exist, or they didn’t care.

My thoughts pinned me to the ground. It’d been a mistake coming to the rookery. Too many memories slept inside.

It’d been at least two hours; Caliza would be worried. Some petty part of me found satisfaction in that and wanted to leave her wondering where I was. Controlling my emotions had never been my strength, but it’d been weeks since I’d reacted to anything as strongly as the engagement. Maybe it meant I was getting better, though I’d thought that before. Why couldn’t I just be okay?

Sighing, I used the wall to stand. Soot clung to my dress, blood staining my elbow where I’d scraped it. I needed a bath. Besides, sitting here wouldn’t stop Ericen from arriving tomorrow.

Today was supposed to be a good day. The words reverberated in the hollow space inside my chest.

As I dusted off what I could of the ash, my gaze snagged on a bit of scorched leather near the edge of the tower. I crouched beside it, running my fingers over the familiar pleats that formed the shoulders of a rider’s flying leathers. Had whomever they belonged to made it out of the tower alive?

I stood, letting my fingertips brush along a blackened windowsill, trying to conjure the feeling the rookery used to instill in me. But it was like fighting against the wind; the feeling refused to come. I pushed deeper into the rubble, suddenly desperate for something, anything that might spark that familiar lightness inside me.

The anticipation of flight, the wonder at the power and strength around me, the safety I’d felt, enclosed in these circular walls—it was all gone. All that remained was ash and rubble.

Something sparkled in the corner of my eye. I stopped my search a half a step past it, and it vanished. Sunlight poured in from the window at my back, illuminating a patch of blackened stone. I stepped back, and it glinted again.

I had to duck under a fallen beam to reach the spot, but once on the other side, I could see the sparkle clearly. Something lay buried beneath the stones and months-old straw from the crows’ nests. My mind whispered this was foolish, to stop before I was disappointed, but I ignored it.

As I carefully moved aside stones, filling the air with dust and ash, the glint turned to a soft, blue-black glow. Something hummed, vibrating against my skin like lightning-charged wind in a storm. Calming, like a familiar comfort I’d forgotten. It slipped beneath my skin, into my muscles and blood, my very bones, chasing away the ice settled there.

I moved the last stone and stilled.

I knew what I was looking at. Even as I touched the ethereal shell, glittering like the night sky trapped in glass, even as my brain rejected the hulking size, the silklike feel, and the undeniable hum of magic, I knew.

It was a storm crow egg.

Careful not to touch the remaining unstable stone pile, I reached in and pulled the egg toward me. It was nearly as large as my torso, and the more I touched it, the stronger the humming became. Bending deep with my knees for leverage, I hoisted the egg into my arms.

Something cracked, and everything happened very fast. The stone shifted, and I tugged the egg back just as something seized my dress and flung me away from the crumbling stone. The ground shuddered as the stone collapsed, crushing wood and broken glass. Dust and ash erupted into the air as debris swallowed the hole, burying the spot I’d been standing in.

I lay blinking at the floating specks in the sunlight, the crow egg clasped to my chest. My heart drummed against it. Kiva stood next to me, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Her pale eyes stared down at me accusingly.

Then she saw the egg. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“I know you’re fine. I just saved your life.” She helped me to my feet.

I started to dust myself off and gave up. My dress would need a proper cleaning. Sighing, I held out the egg. The sunlight rippled around it, as if being drawn in and absorbed by the celestial shell. The thrumming had quieted but still resonated along my hands like the hum of a plucked string.