The Storm Crow (The Storm Crow, #1)(90)

The false wall slid open. “They’re gone,” Samra said.

I let out a breath. “Thank you.”

She ignored me, her eyes locked on Caylus. “What in Duren’s name do you think you’re doing bringing Illucian soldiers to my ship? I ought to toss you into the sea.”

Caylus’s wide-eyed look made me think she’d do just that. “It’s a long story. Is there any way you can ship off a little early? Before dawn?”

“Those soldiers may come back if they don’t find us where you sent them,” I added.

“I’ve thought of that, thank you,” Samra snapped. I scowled, but she was already looking at Caylus again. “What are you doing here?”

Caylus stepped aside, putting me squarely in Samra’s line of sight. “She’s holding the only chance the Ambriels has of ridding themselves of Illucian control once and for all.”

I waved best I could with an armful of crow.





Thirty-Two


Samra woke the rest of her crew quietly. Everything was done quietly. The ropes and anchor were pulled up, the mast adjusted, the sails set. A half hour later, a favorable wind carried the ship out to sea, and Caylus and I sat in Samra’s quarters with her. As I took the chair across from her, Res in my lap, I nearly bolted back up.

Curled on the desk, a paw tucked over his nose, lay Gio. I blinked, the sight of the little white kitten from the bakery throwing me off completely. It was miles from Sordell to this port. How had he gotten here? I shook my head. That question didn’t even begin to cover how strange this was.

Samra’s gaze followed mine down to the sleeping kitten. “Aroch. He’s been keeping an eye on you for me.”

“How—” I stopped. I had enough unanswered questions.

Samra’s gaze dropped to the bundle in my lap. “Why is your vest breathing?”

Slowly, I unwrapped the cloth to reveal the half-asleep crow. Samra’s eyes flared wide, and she leaned carefully over the desk for a better look.

“How is this possible?” she asked.

“I found a surviving egg in one of our rookeries,” I explained.

She lifted a hand as if to reach across and touch him but lowered it, her fingers curling into a fist. “You intend to use it to fight Illucia?”

I nodded.

Samra considered us in silence, her face expressionless. Then she rose, stepping around the desk. “I’ll prepare rooms for you,” she said before slipping outside.

I watched her go, marveling at how controlled she was. It was as though I’d showed her a flower, not a magical creature meant to be extinct.

That was the kind of poise I had to learn if I was ever going to be a leader.

Suddenly left with nothing to do and afraid to let my mind wander to Kiva, my eyes snagged on Gio again. Or Aroch, apparently. It made no sense how the kitten had managed to travel back and forth between Port Maranock and Sordell, unless—

I cast a sidelong look at Caylus, who rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Samra was at the ball,” I told him. “Who is she?”

He looked up, distant gaze focusing. “She’s the smuggler friend I told you about. The one that got me out of Seahalla when…” He trailed off, shrugging as if it would complete his story.

“Oh.”

“She’s an Ambriellan noble,” he continued. “Her father was the leader of the high council. He’s one of the few who kept his power. Samra pretends to be loyal, but her family runs a whiskey-trading business, and she uses it as a front to smuggle for the rebels.”

That explained both her presence at the ball and the disgust with which she’d treated me. She’d likely been staying somewhere in Sordell, then brought Aroch back with her when she left. “Samra’s a Trendellan name,” I said.

“Her mother was Trendellan.”

Was. Had Samra lost her to Illucia? Was that why she played this dangerous game?

Caylus hesitated, then added, “Samra is Diah.”

I stiffened, everything falling into place: what she’d said to me at the ball about not being sure if I was a friend or an enemy. The dullness of the left side of Diah’s mask, where the wood covered her blind eye. She was a rebel leader.

My eyes wandered across the bruises darkening Caylus’s face and the part of his ribs visible from where he’d torn his shirt to stop Kiva’s bleeding. It took everything I had to sit patiently in my seat and not burst into Luan’s room and demand to know what was happening to my best friend. I’d even wrapped my feet around the legs of the chair to keep myself rooted.

“Are you all right?” I took his hand.

His fingers curled around mine, and he tried to smile. It didn’t work. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.” He meant to make me feel better, but it made me feel sick.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted suddenly. He stared blankly at me, and I continued, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give Razel the crows. But then when Shearen was going to kill Kiva, I just—” I couldn’t lose both of them, couldn’t lose everything. Not again.

He squeezed my hand. “I wasn’t telling you not to for show. I didn’t want…” He shook his head. “Not for me.”

I made my own attempt at a smile, but it failed as miserably as his. “I know. Thank you.”