He looked handsome today, effortlessly disheveled to the naked eye, but Ezer wondered if perhaps it was only a part of his mask. A sort of shield he wore, so that no one really got to know the true prince beneath.
He had on his normal Eagleminder’s cloak, white with gold silk inside the hood, but today the front folds were open to reveal the tunic he had on was a cool, springtime blue. It was unbuttoned nearly halfway down his chest. He wasn’t muscular, like Arawn. He was tall and lithe and toned.
And he was pale, like he’d never left the confines of the Aviary.
Like he’d never seen the summer sun.
She supposed not many in the north had. It was another thing she missed about the south, those few and far between days when the sea glittered so bright, it ached to look upon it.
The birds had always loved those days.
‘Well?’ Kinlear asked. ‘What’s your excuse?’
Her eyes slid to the small corked vial nestled against his chest, the glass too dark to see what was inside. He’d added a few more rings to his fingers, which clacked as he held open the Aviary door for her.
Her fingers grazed the Speaking stone in her pocket.
‘I got lost,’ Ezer lied. ‘You spend enough time locked in a tower, and you’re likely to lose your bearings, too, in a place as large as this.’
‘It’s interesting, the tells people have,’ he said as he looked at her. ‘You squint when you lie.’
She could have sworn his eyes narrowed as they slid towards her pocket. But he couldn’t know. Surely not.
‘You can be honest with me. You aresafewith me, despite what my brother may say.’ She didn’t realize she’d backed up against the door to the catacombs. He reached around her, his hand barely skimming her waist as he grasped the handle. ‘I am not your enemy, Raphonminder.’ He swung open the door into darkness. ‘Not unless you want me to be.’
Six was in the same spot as before, so far in the shadows of her cage that it was hard to decipher her tail from her beak.
It reeked inside, far worse than a Ravenminder’s tower ever did.
‘Is she always there?’ Ezer asked, curling her fingers around the icy cold bars. Her heart did a little tremor at the sight of the raphon. It struck Ezer howbeautifulSix was, in a darkly dangerous way.
Just like her ravens.
Kinlear stopped at her shoulder. ‘She’s a creature of habit, for certain,’ he said. He reached down to the vial on his neck and uncorked it, allowing the smell of black licorice to pour out. ‘But so am I, I suppose.’
And he took a small sip, plugging the vial up at once.
‘What is it?’ Ezer asked.
‘This?’ He shrugged. ‘A clever little tincture from Alaris. After the injury …’ He looked down at his leg and lifted his cane as if that explained it. ‘I wasn’t able to move around as much. I fell deathly ill, and it had its way with my lungs. This eases my symptoms.’
‘But what about magic?’ Ezer asked, looking at the vial.
He chuckled softly, as if he’d explained this a thousand times before. ‘It isn’t the magic that makes the final call, Raphonminder. It is the gods, and what invocations they are willing to grant.’
The look on his face told her not to question him further.
But now, she wondered … what had he done, what sins had he committed against them, that they’d refused to heal him? A prince.
A flash of her dreams crept up again, the image of his dagger in her chest after he broke a heated kiss.
She turned to Six to distract herself.
‘Is she always this tired?’ Ezer asked. ‘This … lazy?’
The raphon’s tail twitched, and Ezer could have sworn the beast huffed in annoyance. Happenstance, of course.
Kinlear shrugged. ‘Most birds are up and singing before the start of dawn. I suppose that’s the cat part of her.’
