He held out a large, calloused hand, his eyes eager as he waited for her to take it.
And she was surprised how good it felt, how normal, when she laced her fingers through his.
With the winterwine in her system, she would have followed him anywhere.
She would have followed him to a shadowed alcove, where she could truly press her lips to his. She would have followed him toanyof the places he’d taken her in her dreams. The library, the bathing chambers, the flour-coated countertops in the kitchens …
But it seemed her dreams would remain only dreams.
Because Arawn took her back to the place she’d spent countless hours in – the Aviary. They went not to Six nor the Eagle’s Nest. But up the stairwell that led to the Ravenminder’s tower.
Where it allshouldhave begun.
They’d since found someone else to fill the job, she’d been told. The Ravenminder was at Absolution with all the others, but would soon return like everyone else, ready to send messages that gave names and faces to death.
It felt like days ago that she was doing the same.
It also felt like a lifetime, for so much had changed.
The door to the tower was old and wooden, and when Arawn pushed it open … it was an effort not to gasp.
The smell was just like home.
Crushed seeds, millet and corn and parchment, and a candlestick on a small table in the center of the room, and birds sleeping on perches all around. A perfect Ravenminder’s tower, and for a second, she imagined Ervos sitting at that table.
She could picture her uncle turning to face her. He’d probably say, ‘Come on, Little Bird. It’s time for me to show you something new today.’And he would point out some interesting fact about a swallow or a finch or a tawny owl. He’d tell her how to tame that specific breed, how to determine whether or not it was trustworthy to make the routes they required from one tower to another. But in the end, it was always ravens for her.
‘Ezer?’
Arawn was staring at her, where she still stood in the doorway, watching the shadows like they might hold a ghost.
But there was no one at the table.
Just ink stains and a stack of empty papers, some of them already pre-torn to the perfect size for a messenger bird’s scroll.
‘How did he die?’ Ezer asked suddenly.
She no longer felt the warmth of the wine.
She felt only sorrow, deep as the sea.
‘A scuffle in the barracks, if I had to guess,’ Arawn said. ‘The soldiers may fight for Lordach. But they are not always kind to one another. Especially when so many of them come from prison cells. From dark places.’
‘Was it fast?’ Ezer asked. ‘Or …’
‘I don’t know,’ Arawn said. ‘I wish there was more to tell you.’
She felt like there was.
But it wasn’t his job to keep track of deaths. He was Lordach’s crown prince, and Ervos was just another Minder in a tower. One who probably got drunk each night in the barracks down below, playing cards … cheating, when the desperation to win became greater than the guiding light inside him.
She turned away and focused instead on the tower.
The birds.
‘Hello, friends,’ Ezer said.
There were a few ravens inside, and they instantly perked up at the sound of her voice. Like they knew her, though they’d never flown her routes. Not this far north.
