“I believe so. Like all traits, it’s stronger in some people than others. Res isn’t the first crow to bond a royal who ended up being able to access more than one power.”
“What?”
“Your heritage is no small secret, Thia,” she said with a sigh. “If your family’s enemies had known, it wouldn’t have taken them long to deduce where the power to hatch the crows came from.”
And once they knew, they would have tried to kill us or use us, just like Razel.
“Most crows who exhibited more than one power would choose one to focus on and ignore the rest to keep up the charade,” Estrel continued. “To be honest, we don’t fully understand it. Your bond with Res is different from normal riders. Stronger. I’ve never heard of one being powerful enough to use all eight though. Your family’s Sella heritage must be strong in you.”
I shivered at the thought. I didn’t want to be part of their legacy of cruelty and violence. And yet hadn’t I joined it already? Broken ships and screaming soldiers flashed through my mind.
As if sensing my thoughts, Estrel squeezed my shoulder gently. “There’s a weight that comes with that sort of legacy, Thia. You aren’t one of them though.”
I shook her hand off. “How would you know? You’ve been gone. You have no idea who I am now.”
The hurt that flashed in her eyes made me flinch, but I didn’t take the words back. She let her hand drop.
Spinning about, I followed the cord between me and Res back to the terrace table.
* * *
We were shown rooms on the top floor of the uppermost building. It was by far the grandest, with windows of colored glass imported from Jindae and delicately painted carvings of small foxes ducking in and out of long vines of ivy, drips of color against its rose-gold face.
Garlands of flowers and ribbons bedecked the whole complex for Belin’s Day, and bowls of fresh fruit covered every surface, sweet-smelling candles casting soft light through the halls.
My room was spacious and drenched in textures, from the silken sheets and cotton pillows piled high on the massive bowl-shaped bed, to the luxurious softness of the deep blue carpet, to the sheer layers of curtains hanging over a doorway that led to a balcony overlooking the city.
Res cawed merrily beside me, skittering across the floor and launching himself upward in a flurry of feathers. He settled into the cocoon-like bed, draping his head across a pillow, and drifted to sleep without a moment’s hesitation.
I could already tell I wouldn’t be so lucky.
My skin felt hot, my body jittery and sore from my injuries, and my mind couldn’t hold a thought long enough to dissect it. It leapt from mystery to mystery, problem to problem, from the Sellas to Ericen to the looming alliance meeting.
I ended up wandering the gardens. The night air was warm, the walkways lit by hanging lanterns. Soft tendrils of contentment slipped down the connection from Res, even in his sleep, and I latched on to them, letting them wash over me. I wondered what he dreamed about.
“Food,” I muttered.
“Hmm?”
I started, coming to an abrupt halt. A simple wooden bench sat encircled by a head-height hedge, illuminated by a circle of tiny lanterns. On the bench sat Auma, the scent of cinnamon steaming from the cup of tea beside her, a book in her hand.
“Talking to yourself?” she asked.
I smiled sheepishly. “Yes. Unfortunately, myself doesn’t seem to have many answers.”
Auma marked her page and closed the book, inclining her head in the barest nod to the bench beside her. I hesitated a fraction. Auma’s calm, controlled manner always threw me off a little. It felt like addressing an unmovable mountain—as if she were here before I existed and would be long after. Pushing aside the notion, I sat down as she spoke.
“In Trendell, they tell children a story about the Wanderer. If they don’t go to sleep, he’ll come and spirit them away to his realm in the Wandering Wood, where they’ll never be allowed to rest again.”
I laughed. “Are you telling me to go to bed?”
“You’ve been traveling for some time. Before that, you were in a place of immense danger. You deserve some rest.”
Maybe I did, but it wouldn’t come. Maybe I’d been in a state of unease for so long, my body didn’t know what to do now that I’d reached somewhere safe, now that I had pieces of my family back, however broken. It didn’t know how to rest.
“Is that why you’re awake?” I asked. “You were there much longer than I was.”
“This is the only time I can steal a few minutes of peace.” Her fingers absently brushed the cover of the book she’d been reading. The simple action seemed to draw years of tension out of her, and she released a quiet breath. “Reading silences my mind.”
