Crush the King (Crown of Shards #3)(51)

Step by step, I backed away from them, as well as the dwindling heat and light of the campfire. My heart hammered, and my breath puffed out in shallow, frosty clouds, but I made it to the edge of the clearing. All I had to do was slip into the trees and then I could start running. I still didn’t know where I was or where I was going, but hopefully, I could get far enough away that they wouldn’t bother to chase after me—

A soft fluttering sound caught my ear. I froze again. My gaze snapped over to the campfire, but Caxton and Rocinda were in the same positions as before. I glanced around the rest of the clearing, but I didn’t see anyone else.

So who—or what—had made that noise?

The soft fluttering sounded again, and again, and I realized that it was coming from the box Caxton had tied to one of the pines. The black cloth draped over the box was moving back and forth. At first I thought the wind was ruffling the fabric, but then I noticed that the air was completely still.

Something was inside the box.

I hesitated, torn between slipping into the trees and going over to the box. I didn’t want the noise of the fluttering cloth, along with whatever was inside the container, to wake Caxton and Rocinda. But in the end, all that mattered was my escape, so I crept closer to the trees.

The cloth fluttered again, a little louder and more violently than before. I froze yet again. The cloth stilled, and I let out another breath and tiptoed forward.

The cloth fluttered for a third time. But instead of dropping back down into place, the black fabric kept snapping to and fro, as though whatever was inside could sense my leaving.

By this point, the entire box was vibrating, along with the attached rope, and bits of snow were flaking off the surrounding tree branches and plop-plop-plopping onto the ground. It wouldn’t be long before larger chunks of snow and ice started slipping off the branches, making the limbs snap upward and scrape together. The resulting noise would most likely wake my captors, which meant that I had to shut up whatever was inside that bloody box before it ruined my chance to escape.

I ground my teeth at the delay, but I changed direction and sidled toward the box. Luckily, Caxton had tied the box on a low branch, and he had just draped the cloth over the container without bothering to tie it down. I glanced over at the campfire again, but he and Rocinda still appeared to be sleeping, so I turned back to the box.

I took hold of one corner of the black fabric and gently pulled it down, revealing a small container made of coldiron bars. It wasn’t a box, it was a cage, with a small creature trapped inside.

A caladrius.

My breath caught in my throat, and the black cloth slipped from my fingers and floated down to the snowy ground. Despite the danger, I couldn’t help but lean forward and peer through the bars.

The caladrius’s tiny, owlish body was only a little bigger than my hand. Its feathers were a lovely snow-white and tipped with arrowlike points of light gray, while its beak and talons were a darker, smoky gray. The contrasting colors gave the creature an ethereal air, and its wings seemed to glow like an opal memory stone in the black night.

I had seen caladriuses in menageries, but I’d never been this close to one before. Those creatures had had broken wings and other injuries that made it impossible for them to survive in the wild, but this creature didn’t seem to be wounded. So why was it in a cage?

The answer came to me an instant later. Caxton and Rocinda must be planning to sell it, just like they were me. Anger filled me, along with sadness.

The caladrius had been huddled in the back of the cage, but it hopped forward and peered at me through the bars. The creature crept closer and fluffed up its feathers, as if it were making sure it had my full attention. Then it leaned toward me so that its bright eyes were level with mine.

Help me.

The two words whispered through my mind like wind softly blowing over a field of wildflowers. I jerked back in surprise. My boot crunched on another patch of ice, but I kept staring at the caladrius.

Had the creature just . . . spoken to me?

No, of course not. That was silly. As far as I knew, caladriuses didn’t talk, and only mind magiers could whisper thoughts to someone. Still, the creature was making me uneasy, so I took another step back. I needed to get out of here before Caxton and Rocinda woke up, not waste my time mooning over a pretty bird.

The caladrius let out what sounded like a soft resigned sigh. Its head drooped, along with its feathers, and it seemed to shrink, becoming even smaller than it already was. The creature realized that I was abandoning it, and its dusty resignation washed over me. The scent cut me deeper than a sword through my heart.

I couldn’t leave the caladrius here to become someone’s pet—or worse, to be carved up for its magic. Some people thought eating caladrius meat or ingesting powders made from the creatures’ feathers, beaks, talons, and bones could cure illnesses, increase a person’s magic, and bring good luck. The creatures were protected in Bellona, but they had been hunted to almost extinction in other kingdoms like Morta.

I glanced over at Caxton and Rocinda again, but they were still sleeping, so I tiptoed back over to the cage. The tiny, owlish bird perked up and cocked its head to the side, studying me. For the first time, I noticed that its eyes were a lovely gray-blue that shifted color, going from light to dark and back again, thanks to the campfire’s low flames.

Caladriuses often nested in tearstone mines, and some legends claimed that the birds had dug into so much tearstone that it had turned their eyes the same unique color. Last winter, several caladriuses had nested in my father’s mine, and we had often scattered toasted sunflower seeds and dried bits of bloodcrisp apples on the cavern floor for the creatures to eat.