‘Darling girl, these decisions are difficult.’ My mother’s voice is gentle. Mistral is still on one knee, golden light gleaming from his hair. ‘As Raven you’ll have to learn when to make them. Twenty lives are a fair exchange for the attack on your father, don’t you see?’
Are they? I don’t think I can make decisions like that. Decisions of life and death. OfcourseFather is important. Ofcoursethe people responsible need to pay. But this doesn’t seem fair.
‘How will you know?’ I say, adrift in a tilted world.
‘How will I know what?’ My mother takes my hand. I hang onto her cool fingers as though they’re a lifeline.
‘That they’re rebels.’
‘I’ll make sure of it.’ Mistral, pushing in again. I really wish he would just fuck off.
‘How?’ I try to sound cool, like my mother. My father’s lips twitch.
Mistral’s slight frown deepens. ‘We have intelligence forces, dear Emelia, agents who keep me apprised of such things. We are weeding them out, one by one, and?—’
‘Except for the one who attacked Father. Your agents missed him.’
My father coughs behind his hand.
‘Mistral knows what he’s doing.’ My mother nods to him. ‘So shall it be,’ she says. ‘Raven claw, blood and stone.’
He bows his head. ‘Raven claw, blood and stone,’ he replies. ‘Your word is my command, as always, my Penelope. It shall be so, at the fireworks, five nights hence.’
The fireworks. I’d forgotten about those. They happen in the week following Halloween, and I love watching them. Usually.
‘This is madness.’ The words tumble from me.
‘Emelia.’ There is ice in my mother’s cool tones, a warning.
‘How can you even consider this? It will just make things worse!’
Mistral speaks. ‘If you become Raven?—’
‘IfI become Raven?’ I’m on my feet, my hand slipping from my mother’s grasp. ‘Iamthe next Raven! I didn’t realise it involved slaughtering people!’
Okay, I know. I’m going to run away. But it’s not up to Mistral to make that decision.
‘Are you questioning your mother’s will?’ Mistral’s voice is hard, his blue eyes narrow slits of sapphire.
‘I’m questioningyou. Showing up here, acting like you own the place, leaving my father to burn while you took Mother and?—’
‘Enough!’ My mother’s voice is whip-sharp. ‘Emelia, I realise this has been a long night, but you cannot speak to Mistral like this. You need to apologise.’
‘What?’ Embarrassment rushes through me, a prickling flush. My father seems about to speak, but she raises her hand.
‘Emelia?’
I stare at her, breathing hard. But I will burn before I apologise to Mistral.
‘Fine.’ She folds her lips. ‘You are confined to the house for the next little while. For your own safety,’ she adds. ‘But also, perhaps you need some time to think about things, and about what becoming Raven will entail.’
Tears prickle my eyes, my breath hitching in my chest.
Mistral is smirking.
I run from the room, stumbling into the hallway. Bertrand follows, but even his familiar bulk feels more like an obstruction than protection, a stone wall I want to smash through. But I can’t smash through anything, can’t change anything, can’tdoanything.
‘Can I help, my lady?’ Bertrand cuts into my tangled thoughts. I take in a deep breath through my nose, rubbing my forehead. Then, to my deep shame, I burst into tears.
