The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(80)

The sona lamps scattered throughout the training grounds were dim, the moonlight mostly obscured by clouds. The cool air soothed my stress and the heat of my burns. I took a deep breath, then froze.

I wasn’t alone.

I turned but saw no one. A presence in the shadows pulled at me. Familiar, quiet, comforting. I followed it. The feeling grew stronger as I entered the lounge beside the training grounds, then followed the hallway past the kitchens and servant quarters. I was about to round another corner when voices echoed down the corridor.

“Is everything ready?”

Shearen. I stopped, pressing my back to the wall.

“Yes, my lord. The queen has requested your presence,” responded a female voice.

“Fine. Leave.”

I slipped into a nearby alcove, trying to make myself as small as possible as an older servant bearing a torch walked past. Once she was out of sight, I crept to the edge of the hallway and peered around in time to see Shearen disappearing around another corner.

Keeping my steps light, I followed, staying a good distance behind as he took turn after turn deeper into the belly of the castle. The humming grew stronger, dancing through my veins and settling in my stomach, drawing me closer.

Shearen halted outside a padlocked iron door, withdrawing a key. I dared a look around the corner. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, and as the door slowly closed behind him, a humming blasted me with an echo so strong, it shuddered through my chest.

Magic.





Twenty-Eight


Kiva! Kiva!” I shook her vigorously with one hand, though her eyes flashed open at my touch. Moonlight illuminated her disgruntled face, and she swatted at me lazily.

“I’m awake!” she grumbled, sitting forward in her chair. “Why are you?” She blinked, then coming fully awake, sprang to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Shearen was in the halls, and I followed him. The door he went through, it’s locked, but when he opened it, I felt magic!”

She stared at me like I’d lost my mind. I replayed my rambling in my head. Taking a deep breath, I relayed it all again, taking pains to explain carefully what I’d seen.

“Humming?” she asked. “Like you felt with the egg?”

I nodded, and she folded her arms.

“You think Razel has some type of magic stored in there?”

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. It doesn’t seem likely, but strange things have been happening.” She listened as I explained about Res using shadow crow magic to conceal himself and the possibility that he’d used earth crow powers too.

Kiva rubbed her face. “That’s not possible.”

“Neither is this.” I held up my injured hand, which wasn’t quite so injured as it should have been. “We have to see what’s inside that room. If Razel has magic, we may not be prepared to fight Illucia after all, alliance or not.”

Kiva sighed. “You want to break in, don’t you?”

I grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

“How do you plan on getting past the padlock? Did you become a picklock when I wasn’t looking?”

“No, but I do know a few common infirmary ingredients that make for a nice acidic solution.”

“Saints. You’ve spent too much time with Caylus.”

I smirked. “Lord Rynthene’s ship will be in Port Maranock in two days. That means we need to figure out a way to escape by then.”

“It won’t be easy.” Kiva rocked onto the back legs of her chair. “We’ll have to leave at night, and we’ll need horses. If we’re lucky, we won’t be discovered until morning. But if Razel learns we’ve left before we reach the port…”

I nodded, not wanting to imagine what would happen. We didn’t have a choice.

We searched the quarters for the ingredients we would need to mix the acid. The healer might miss them, but she wouldn’t come accusing the Rhodairen princess. Kiva tucked them away in her pockets, and I climbed back into bed.

*

I slept all morning and into early afternoon. When I woke, joy washed over me like sea spray, prickling with frantic energy. It took me a moment to realize it was Res, the link between us strong enough that his emotions flowed almost seamlessly into me.

I’m okay. I sent reassuring waves along the cord, guilt twisting in my stomach. Had he felt my pain last night? My fear? From how frantic his energy was, it seemed so. But why hadn’t I sensed him when I woke last night? I eyed the murkwood vial on my bedside table. Had the drug numbed more than my pain?

When the healer changed the bandages on my hand, it took a good minute for me to convince myself to look.

The worst spots were swollen and blistered, the best merely an angry shade of red. The shape of the key was still discernable on my palm, and the skin was sensitive and stung all over, but I kept silent. Along my forearm, the old scars gleamed.

I stared at the burns, confused and a little unsettled. They’d healed considerably already. I wasn’t complaining, but what in the Saints’ name had happened? Maybe the fire hadn’t been as hot as I’d expected. Maybe I’d grabbed the key fast enough to prevent the worst. I turned my hand over, inspecting every inch.

If I didn’t know better, I would have said it looked like the work of a sun crow. But that was impossible. Still, I couldn’t shake the quiet voice that whispered this wasn’t normal. It was magic, magic I didn’t understand.