His umber eyes were round with fear. Then they settled on something over my shoulder, and he let out the smallest gasp. “A crow!”
Res straightened, puffing out his feathers and lifting his head.
The boy’s eyes somehow grew wider. “But that means you’re—” His mouth fell open as the realization of who I was clicked into place. “Saints, my sister’s not going to believe this! She said the rumor the princess found an egg was a lie! I told her it wasn’t. I told her! Oh, what’s his name? What kind of crow is he? Can I pet him?” The words flew from the boy’s mouth almost faster than he could form them, the near arrow mishap already forgotten.
I grinned. “Resyries. Storm. And yes, I think he’d like that.”
The boy shot forward as fast as the arrow he’d fired and threw his arms around Res, burying his face in his feathers. The crow’s wings curled around him in a protective arc.
“Storm,” Samra said slowly, as if testing the word for weakness. “Then how did he stop that arrow?”
“That’s not all he did.” Kiva’s voice came quietly, tentatively. She was staring down at her injured arm with a careful, uncertain awe. Slowly, she rolled it forward and then back without a hint of pain.
“Thia, I think he healed me.”
* * *
The boy’s name was Jaycyth—Jay for short—and the bow belonged to his mother. She was a soldier who’d been called up for reinforcements when the Illucian threat appeared on our border. He lived in Cardail with his older sister, his father, two hounds named Stick and Stone, and a frog called Toad.
All this he told us before we even turned the corner at the end of the street.
“I don’t think he needs to breathe,” Kiva muttered to me at one point.
Jay also told us his family ran the town inn, which was where the rest of the villagers had taken refuge, wanting to put distance between themselves and the coast. He was supposed to be gathering fruit from the orchard when he spotted our sails.
We turned another corner, revealing a small courtyard bustling with people and animals before a squat, two-story building with a sign that readThe Edgewood Inn. Sure enough, the line of a small wood rose behind it, casting a shadow over the people hauling buckets of water from the well at the square’s center and lining up to receive food from a vendor roasting spiced chicken.
It felt good to see Rhodairen faces, to hear Rhodairen voices. A smile spread across my lips, remaining plastered there the deeper into town we went, the familiarity of my people like a warm winter coat.
“Jaycyth!” A deep voice barely preceded a thick-chested man as he broke through the crowd. “Where in the Saints’ name have you been? I told you to come straight back.”
Jay burst forward, seizing his father’s shirt and tugging. “Look who I found!”
I moved aside, letting Res step forward from the shadows of the alley. A gasp sounded across the courtyard, an excited murmur swelling through the crowd alongside shouts of “A crow!” and “The princess!”
I stepped forward. “You must be Jay’s father.”
My words broke the man’s stare, and he dropped quickly to one knee. The action rippled through the square as person after person knelt. It struck me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t just the formality of it, something we rarely adhered to in the capital where the royal family’s presence was as likely in the local tavern as the grand hall. No, it was the looks on their faces as they took in first me, then the crow at my side. The way their bent backs straightened and the edge of exhaustion in their eyes softened into something warmer.
Into hope.
“Please, stand,” I called across the square. They listened, rising as one. “My name is Anthia Cerralté, princess of Rhodaire. You may have heard the rumors that I discovered a crow egg and took it with me into the heart of Illucia. Well, you can see now those rumors are true.”
A murmur coursed through the crowd. Jay jumped excitedly, still clutching his father’s shirt.
“With the help of Resyries’s magic, we will protect Rhodaire. For now, I’ll offer you whatever help I can.” I looked from person to person as I spoke, meeting their tired eyes. “Will someone tell me what happened here?”
“Mercenaries,” said Jay’s father. “They came in on ships from the north. There were Illucian soldiers with them but only a handful. Most of them were Ambriellan.”
Caylus stepped forward, proffering the bit of blue cloth he’d found in the rubble. “Did their ships have a kingfisher on their flag?”
Jay’s father nodded, and Caylus paled. Samra let out a low string of curses.
“What?” I asked.
Caylus’s hand closed about the cloth so tightly, his knuckles flared white. “Malkin.”
The man who’d stolen so many years of his life, the one who’d forced him to work and to fight until it’d destroyed him physically and mentally.
