“And now?”
The question caught me off guard. This time, I wasn’t sure what he meant. Did he think my reason for coming here, for staying, had changed? I found his eyes, searching their blue depths for an answer I wasn’t sure I wanted.
“I’m doing what I have to, Ericen. I—”
He kissed me, a hard, demanding urgency behind the soft warmth of his lips. I went rigid, my heart jolting. Before I could even process what was happening, I’d pulled away. The look on his face made my stomach turn. He stepped back, the realization of his mistake spreading like wildfire across his face.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed. “I—”
“Still? After everything?”
“I—”
“Why did you ask me to come with you to Rhodaire? Why did you listen to me, talk to me, spend time with me? Because you had to?”
My lips parted, an icy bead rising up from my stomach to my throat. Words rose and died, and I lashed out a hand, seizing the wall for support. My fingers struck the orange cake, sending it tumbling off the edge. “No, that’s not…that’s not why—” I shook my head, taking a deep breath. Ericen’s eyes were like a blizzard, boring into me in floods of icy wind.
“Were you just using me to get to my mother? Did you think I’d turn on her and help you instead?”
“Yes!” My heart jolted. “No. No. I wanted your help, yes, but I wasn’t using you. Is it so hard for you to believe I care about you? That I want to help you? You’re my friend!”
“But you don’t love me.”
“No.”
The wind carried the word away. Ericen didn’t say anything, just turned and left through the open tower door. I stared at the spot he’d been standing in, the chill of the evening digging into my bones.
* * *
I didn’t tell Kiva what had happened. I was still processing it myself. There’d been moments since coming to Illucia where I’d wondered if Ericen cared about me more than I wanted to admit. But I’d never thought it would reach this point. Or perhaps I’d only been afraid it would.
By the time midnight came, I’d become a jumble of nerves. We stepped quietly out of the room into the empty hall.
The vial of solution felt like it was burning a hole through my hand as we walked. I held it gingerly as I led the way down the corridors, retracing my steps from the other night, afraid every corner we turned would look unfamiliar. Yet I knew we were heading the right way. The humming called me closer.
Kiva kept a hand on Sinvarra while my free one remained on the string of the bow slung across my chest, ready to pull it free.
The dim glow of the sona lamps melded with the light of a full moon. We moved slowly, checking every corner before we turned, listening intently for any sound. Once or twice, we had to leap into the alcove of a doorway or hurry down a hall to avoid a servant, but otherwise, the corridors stayed quiet.
Adrenaline scurried through my veins like fleeing spiders, slicking my palms with sweat. It grew worse the closer we got, until we rounded the final corner and faced the padlocked door. Even through the iron, magic hummed.
Kiva took up her post at the corner as I approached the door, uncorking the vial. The first drop missed, hissing when it made contact with the stone ground. The next one landed on the metal and began eating through. I added another couple of drops then stepped back, thankful for my gloves as the metal sizzled away.
The bubbling slowed, and I added the last couple of drops to finish the job before corking the vial and tucking it in my pocket. The lock groaned quietly as it split apart, and I caught the pieces in Auma’s scarf before they could fall. Setting them aside, I beckoned for Kiva to join me.
“I take back everything I ever said about Caylus,” she whispered.
I grinned and pulled open the door.
The humming crashed into me like a strong wind, then settled into a steady flow that reverberated in my chest. It was oddly comforting, like a lullaby without sound. Kiva watched our backs as we crept slowly down a narrow set of stairs toward a dim light. The staircase was short, the room surprisingly warm as we reached the bottom.
Shadows flickered on the wall in the light of a single torch, sparking familiarity. The room buzzed with magic so thick, it was nearly tangible. As I turned the final corner and my eyes adjusted to the faded light, I froze.
The room was full of crow eggs.
Thirty
Eggs of every kind were scattered across the floor on a bed of hay, illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. My eyes couldn’t move fast enough, taking in the shiny red shells of fire crow eggs next to the pure black of shadow crows, which blended almost seamlessly into the sparkling night sky of the storm crows.
