“Can you navigate through the debris?” I asked Samra.
She looked at me as if I’d asked whether she knew Res had feathers and didn’t answer. Around us, the crew was already in motion, adjusting sails and ropes. Caylus peeled off to join them, something he’d often done during our time at sea. Apparently, children in the Ambriels were trained to sail the same way Rhodairens learned the crows and Illucians the sword. It seemed to soothe him, if only for a while.
Kiva swayed slightly at my side. I put a steadying hand on her uninjured shoulder. “You should go back to bed.”
“And let you and bird brain go into the mysterious smoking town without me? Not happening.” She flashed me a smile that was half grimace.
Res clipped his beak in annoyance, releasing a puff of wind that fluttered Kiva’s braid. I rolled my eyes. Where Caylus and Res got on wonderfully—likely a result of the copious amount of treats he fed the crow—Kiva had never been much of an animal person. That and she was literally incapable of not insulting everyone she met.
It took several minutes for the crew to steer through the wreckage and bring the ship safely into port. When the gangplank lowered, Samra led me, Res, Kiva, and Caylus down onto the dock.
“I thought I said no crow,” Samra said.
“That was before we found the place ransacked,” I sniped back. Her constant orders were starting to grate on me. We were supposed to be in a partnership, but Samra seemed to think I was one of her crew. It didn’t help that she had a way of seizing control of a conversation, making me feel like I needed to defer to her. How was I supposed to convince her to ally with Rhodaire, to think of me as an equal, if she treated me like a child?
The captain spared me a brief scowl before charging on ahead. She slid a thin mask over her face, the same half-black, half-white one she’d been wearing when I first met her in Caylus’s workshop. Anyone who saw Res would know us in a heartbeat, but she’d remain anonymous.
We moved together through the deserted streets, picking our way through overturned crates and the smoldering remains of goods and scattered belongings. A child’s stuffed crow lay singed and still smoking in an empty doorway, an overturned cart of woven rugs that had been slashed to ribbons across from it. Shattered glass mixed with ash, and the scorched leaves of trees turned to blackened skeletons.
I took every step with my breath trapped in my throat, waiting for the all-too-familiar sight of gleaming bone and melted skin.
Kiva’s boot caught a stone and she lurched forward. Before I could react, Res was there, his outstretched wing guiding her back to her feet. She shot me a look, daring me to comment, but I didn’t have the spirit for mirth any longer. Not as the slow reality of what had happened sank in.
“Where is everyone?” she asked. “You don’t think Razel ki—”
“No.” I refused to think it. These people were not dead. If Razel had attacked to draw me out, if my escape had led to these people living through what I had… “No,” I said again.
Caylus slowed beside a pile of debris. He knelt and reached for a strip of blue cloth. My first thought was Illucia, but the shade was wrong. It wasn’t the royal hue they bore but a bright, sea-blue ice.
And the sight of it turned him to stone.
Just as I started to ask, rocks clattered in an alley to our side. I whirled as a thin form leapt into view, bow drawn and aimed at Kiva.
“No!” I leapt toward her at the same moment the string resounded with a snap.
I waited for the thud of metal in flesh and the wave of pain, but it didn’t come. My eyes had closed involuntarily, and I slowly peeled them open.
The arrow hovered inches from my face.
It dropped to the ground with a clatter, taking my breath with it. I nearly wilted, but Kiva seized my arm. Res’s eyes glowed bright silver.
He’d done it again.
In Illucia, Res had shown signs of magic beyond his expected storm abilities. Somehow, he’d wielded a shadow crow’s power to hide and shook the earth with the magic of an earth crow.
Now he’d stopped the arrow like a battle crow.
“H-How?” the shooter stuttered. His thin voice stilled me. He was only a boy. Ten, maybe eleven at the most. The bow was too big for him, the quiver sagging loose at his hip. He fumbled for another arrow but dropped it, nearly losing hold of the bow in his attempt to catch it. With a curse, he turned to flee—and ran straight into Samra.
She caught him by the forearms, hardly seeming to notice his struggle. “Explain yourself.”
“Let him go!” My voice cracked as I surged forward. Samra frowned, and I straightened beneath her dark gaze. “He’s a Rhodairen citizen, achild, and I said to let him go.”
She watched me with that same unreadable look, holding on a moment longer as if to test me. Then she slowly unfurled her fingers.
The boy stumbled back, rubbing at his wrists. “Please don’t hurt me,” he begged. “I thought you were them.”
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I said softly.
