More… royal.
The crows react immediately. Some let out sharp caws. Others shuffle on their perches. But none of them leave.
If anything, they regard Pain with reverence.
A slow prickle of unease creeps up my spine.
The crows have always followed me, but never like this. Never this many. Never so fixated.
And they always left when Pain showed up.
But now? They’re holding their ground.
Pain flaps his wings once—a sharp, commanding motion. A few of the smaller birds flinch, feathers ruffling as if disturbed.
But still, they don’t leave.
I take another step, my fingers tightening at my sides.
“Go,” I command, voice steady.
Pain lets out a deep, resonant caw—a sound that usually sends the crows scattering.
This time, the response is… delayed.
The crows ripple like a wave, feathers bristling, claws scraping against metal and stone. Some take off in a chaotic flurry of wings, spiraling into the sky.
But others? Others hesitate. Others stay.
Some even lean in.
I really, really don’t like that.
Pain has to do at least three more dramatic passes overhead before the last of the stubborn crows finally accept defeat. Slowly, like a receding tide, they begin to scatter.
Only once they’re all gone do I turn back toward the hospital.
And that’s when I notice him.
Nathaniel stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me like he’s been there for who knows how long.
“Good morning,” he says, voice even. Casual. Like I’m still a person with a normal circadian rhythm and not a glorified ghost stuck in a murder house.
I squint at him. “Another day bound to you, huh?”
He smiles. Slow. Knowing. The kind of smile that should come with a contract and a pen filled with my own blood. Then, without a word, he steps back inside.
My heart stirs. Useless. Broken. A disaster of a thing, really.
Is it because we spent an ungodly amount of time together last night? Is it because suddenly, he’s not just that stupid, cruel murderer in my eyes anymore? Or is it because he came outsidejustto tell me hello—even though I’m, by all definitions, a prisoner to him? A wisp of nothing, as Cassian so eloquently put it, and yet… he stillcares?
I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever know.
Still, I'd prefer to fight it.
Still, I don’t seem to have a way to.
“Where’s Cassian?” I ask as I step through the doorway and take in the room. Lingering unease because we’re about to gohunt a murderer today? Check. One brooding, angry-looking mountain of a man? Mysteriously absent.
