As the day crawled by, Rhianne’s prediction bore out.
The Shearwaters and the Cormorants sat up late that evening, reminiscing about capers past. It seemed it had been a few years, at least, since the families had spent a long stretch together, and they were clearly keen to make up for lost time.
When the guests began to yawn and we were finally released, my spine was throbbing from standing to attention and my ears werestinging from the ring of laconite. I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed, but I hadn’t forgotten my contact’s warning:“If I don’t receive that note, this deal is off the table.”
An eternity seemed to pass once I returned to the tower and waited for my fellow Orha to fall asleep, but at last the final lamp went out, and I stole silently back up to the castle.
All was quiet as I wound my way up North Tower, darkness mantling the steep spiral stair. The autumn chill had seeped through the walls, and my shivers made my rushlight’s glow flitter eerily.
The circular culverhouse was musty and shadowed, scant moonslight spearing in from a hole in the ceiling. As I entered, I heard the susurration of feathers and could just make out black humps in the darkness, pairs of sharp, beady eyes trained on me.
My heart thudded dully as I took out my note, onto which I’d carefully translated my code, and hurried over to the recess markedThe Veil.The “K” I’d etched on the note stood out sharply, and I wondered what it stood for, what my contact’s name was.
The crow watched me attentively, shifting its dark bulk. It knew to expect morsels of bread on arrival and was clearly impatient to receive its reward, but as I fastened my message to one scrawny leg—
The scrape of a sole from behind me reached my ears.
Whirling, I saw the outline of a figure in the doorway, faintly lit by their own candle. I nudged the crow frantically, whispering,“Go!”
With a beating of huge black wings, it took off, streaking up out of the hole into moonslight. I reared back. Behind me, the figure dropped their light, the flame extinguishing, the candle rolling.
My own rushlight still glowed faintly, and by it, I saw a striking face, warm brown skin, dark eyes stretched wide.
“Hello,” came one of the well-heeled voices I’d been forced to listen to for several hours earlier.
Avrix Cormorant, dressed in a night-robe.
“He-hello,” I stuttered, heart galloping, gazing at him through the thick gloom.
A smile lit his features as he took me in. “I’m sorry for surprising you. What a place to get a scare!” His eyes flicked upward. “Creepy, isn’t it?”
I offered no reply, stepping back to make space. The culverhouse wasn’t exactly roomy. As he moved inside, he had to stand close.
“Couldn’t sleep myself,” he said, still sounding apologetic. “Never can the first night away from home. I thought I might as well post our letter to Mother, given I was wide awake anyway.” He smiled. “What’s your name? I remember you from the snug.”
Despite my horror at being discovered, and my racing thoughts—how would I explain this?—I couldn’t help feeling a flicker of warmth. He was looking at me with genuine interest, not the cool, predatory regard of his sister.
“Corith,” I said. “The Shearwaters’ Floodmouth. I—” My mind grasped desperately forsomething.“Everything’s been so hectic today, I didn’t have a chance to get here until now. I—I had a letter to drop off, too.” Well, that much was true, I thought. “For my friend. She has a placement down south. We write to each other, and I owe her a message.”
Avrix looked pained, his brows dipping down. “That’ll be our fault, I expect,” he said gently. “I’m sorry we’ve lumbered you all with more chores.” He glanced at my clothes; I was still in my livery. “Must already be quite the load, with five in the family.” He paused. “Lots of laconite to polish, too, yes?”
My thoughts snagged, panicked. But he couldn’t have known. “Yes,” I half whispered, managing a smile.
“Got to be annoying. All that buzzing.” He grinned as he spoke, tugging an envelope from his pocket. “Well, I’d really better get this off to Mother, or she’ll think we capsized and send out a search party.”
Though my pulse still thumped like a drum in my ears, I felt a warm curl of amusement. “Here,” I said, bending to pick up his candle. I lit it using my rushlight’s flame and handed it to him, hoping my fingers weren’t trembling.
“Thank you,” he said, dark eyes on my face. “Will you be sailing with us tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I said reluctantly. I’d forgotten about that.
“Then I shall look forward to it even more,” he replied, quirking an eyebrow. “Good night, Corith.”
“Good night,” I forced out, stepping past him, revelling in the heady relief at my escape that almost—but not quite—banished my jangling nerves.
18
I wokewith the hope that rain clouds had rolled in, but the sky shone sapphire blue above the bay.
