“The men who rode with you yesterday believe ravens followed you back to the keep. A handful sit perched in a nearby tree. The men remember well what the old man, Cander, said of them.”
Rhodes didn’t need to think, the words slipped out easily. “That witches sent them after him.”
“Aye,” Boyce confirmed. “That his village sickened while the birds circled, and he alone escaped. Now the ravens sit here, and folks are uneasy.”
The chamber fell silent but for the crackle of the fire. Rhodes remembered Cander’s hollow-eyed warning, the way his men had grown uneasy themselves at the raven’s cry. And he thought, too, of the raven Fawn kept hidden in her care.
His voice, when it came, was sharp. “Birds are only birds. Let the men chatter if they must but keep watch on the old man. I would know if his stories held more than madness.”
Boyce inclined his head, though unease lingered in his eyes.
Rhodes turned back to the fire, but his mind was far from settled. Ravens. Witches. Fawn in the woods before dawn. Threads that tangled tighter with each passing day.
He raked a hand through his hair, cursing beneath his breath. Bloody hell, his wife—a witch.
The word still caught sharp in his chest, impossible to reconcile with the woman who stirred in him more love than he ever thought to feel. If she truly carried such a mark, why then did she look more angel than demon, more light than shadow? Perhaps it was not she who was wrong but his understanding.
Driven by a need he could not ignore, he quit the solar and climbed the winding stairs to the turret. He found her there, kneeling beside Ash, the lame fox, stroking its fur with tender patience. Bramble and Willow cooed softly from the rafters while Sage shifted and blinked golden eyes in the firelight. And Fawn—his wife—her fiery curls tumbling loose down her back, her lips curved in gentle concentration, looked the very image of grace.
His chest tightened. How could such beauty be bound to a word whispered with fear? And worse, how could he ever bring himself to lose her?
Fawn glanced up, her green eyes meeting his, and smiled softly, pleased to see him.
He stepped further into the chamber, the door closing behind him. “There is something I would know.”
Her brow lifted. “And what is that?”
“The ravens,” he said, his voice low, wary. “They’ve gathered near the keep. Too many to be mere chance. Some say they followed the old man—Cander—but…” His gaze locked on hers. “You’re a witch, Fawn. Do you know what it means?”
Her breath caught, though she did not flinch. Instead, she rose slowly, her hand brushing Ash’s fur one last time before she faced him fully. “Aye, I know the ways of the forest, and oft the birds carry messages of what’s to come. But whether these birds belong to the wild—or to something darker—I cannot yet say.”
He studied her face, every line of it beloved to him, and for a moment he forgot the word witch, forgot the dread that hungover the clan. All he saw was the woman before him, the woman he could not imagine losing.
He reached for her hand, his voice rougher than he intended. “Do not lie to me, Fawn. If danger circles us, I need to know. How else can I keep you safe?”
Her heart squeezed at the rawness in his tone. He worried for her, yet she wondered about him. What if her truth was uncovered? What if fear turned the clan against him for wedding a witch? The thought chilled her more than the winter wind ever could.
She gave thought to his question, her gaze turning toward the shuttered window. “The ravens…” Her voice softened. “They may not be of the wild. Their gathering could be the work of dark forces.”
Rhodes’s eyes narrowed. “Dark forces… is it possible they followed Cander here?”
Fawn nodded slowly. “It could be. Whoever rules the ravens may not have liked that he slipped away. If so, it’s not just him who’s in danger, Rhodes. It could mean danger for the whole clan.”
The fire snapped in the hearth, the only sound her words that hung between them.
Rhodes took her hand, his grip firm but not unkind, and guided her toward the pair of chairs drawn close to the hearth. He lowered himself into one and eased her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her as if by sheer strength he could bar the darkness from touching her.
The firelight bathed her hair in glints of copper and gold, the scent of herbs and woodsmoke clinging to her shift. He pressed his face briefly against her curls, breathing her in, needing the steadiness she alone gave him.
His thoughts were a storm, ravens circling, whispers of witches, shadows thickening around the clan. But beneath it alllay the sharper fear, the one he could not give voice to… losing her. Losing the only woman he could ever love.
“You shouldn’t have to bear this,” he murmured, his voice rough against her temple.
Her arms slipped around his shoulders, holding him as tightly as he held her. “I’ll bear whatever comes,” she whispered back. “So long as I bear it with you.”
Something in him gave way at her words, the knot in his chest loosening. He tipped her chin up, his gaze locking with hers, firelight dancing in the green depths. Slowly, he pressed his mouth to hers, a tender kiss but threaded with urgency, as though sealing a vow neither of them had spoken aloud.
When they drew apart, foreheads resting together, the world beyond the shuttered windows seemed distant. For that moment, there were only them, two hearts, bound together against the gathering dark.
