“Get off me,” I demand, pushing against his chest. His warmth bleeds through the fabric of his tunic beneath my palms. More real than it has any right to feel after all this time. His lips twitch as I push him back, his arm dropping away. Yet the space between us feels anything but empty.
“How did you know I’d follow you?” I ask, my tone sharper than intended, driven by the chaos of emotions lingering from the night’s earlier events.
“Because you’re predictable.” He steps back, running a hand through his dark hair and knocking his hood back. The movement is sharp, edged with frustration.
I open my mouth to snap back, but the words falter as the hood falls away, and for a moment, everything else fades. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in a year, and the sight jolts me into silence. His deep brown hair, messy and windswept, frames the sharp lines of his face. Short stubble softens his jaw, and his lips are pressed into a firm, unyielding line. His skin is a lighter brown than I remember, not quite as bronzed from the sun-drenched islands of the Sorrows. But it’s his eyes—piercing amber brown—that momentarily hold my attention.
Until his words register.
“You don’t know me,” I scoff, folding my arms across my chest as if it might shield me from the dark intensity of his gaze. I breathe hard, the movement of my chest filling the silence that now feels too heavy.
Raven tilts his head, studying me. There’s something darker in his gaze now, something sharp and simmering just beneath the surface. A smirk doesn’t form this time—just a flicker of what could be amusement or something more dangerous. “Are you looking for a fight, El?” he asks, his tone deceptively quiet, his words heavy enough to make my pulse quicken.
“If I was,” I snap back, standing taller despite the uneven thrum of my heartbeat, “I wouldn’t pick you.”
For one fleeting second, his mouth twitches, though it’s not a teasing response I see rising. Instead, it’s something heavier, something edged, before he takes another deliberate step back. “Good,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing faintly. “Fighting me has never ended well for you.”
My anger flares again, stoked by his calm demeanor, but I bite it back as I glare harder, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me falter.
He doesn’t look away—never does, not when the tension in the alley feels like it might pull tight enough to snap. Raven’s eyes search minefor something I can’t name, and when he finally speaks again, his voice drops lower, his tone no longer cold but resigned.
“So, the Eagle told you?” He offers no further explanation—none is necessary.
“Yes.” The word escapes me, sharp and fast, slicing through the air between us before I can think better of it. His quiet intensity feels like a weight pressing down on me, and I look away, desperate to regain control as cracks widen in my already damaged armor.
“And you’re angry.”
Not a question this time, more a statement of fact.
“Obviously.” My voice is brittle, arid, like the Sorrows in the heart of the dry season.
Raven lets out a sigh—not dismissive but weary, as if he’s been shouldering a burden for far too long. His gaze softens, just slightly yet enough for me to catch the change. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, simply turns and strides away as if my compliance is a foregone conclusion.
“And why should I?”
“Haven’t you heard?” Raven calls over his shoulder. “I’m your Flight Commander now.”
The words hang in the air, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve heard him wrong.
Flight Commander.
My Flight Commander.
“What happened to Kestrel?” I ask, even though I already know the only answer capable of triggering such a shift in Alpha Flight’s hierarchy.
“Dead.”
The word falls like a stone, weighted with unspoken regret, and in an instant, everything changes—it’s as if someone swept the ground out from under me.
Still, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. It was clear from the moment we met that Lord Malis had plans for him. Raven’s path was paved in the Eagle’s shadow; set apart before he even knew what it meant tobelong. Leading the Aviary’s elite by twenty-seven? It was only a matter of time.
With a reluctant sigh, I resign myself to the inevitable and follow. My body moves in his wake without conscious thought, my legs stiff and deliberate, like a puppet pulled by strings. I’ll have to bury the emotions clawing at my chest, to feign indifference and act like this is just another day, just another superior giving orders.
Raven guides me back through the winding streets and up to the zenith of the Aviary—the rooftop of its central tower. The familiar golden eagle perched at the domed center glints in the moonlight, its open wings shimmering as if poised to take flight. I had realized our destination the moment we reached the third flight of stairs and he continued to climb. It was our sanctuary, a haven we retreated to whenever life became too much.
Standing here now, it’s hard to reconcile the fact that it’s been a year since I last saw him. He looks the same as I remember. With his hood lowered, the moonlight illuminates his light brown skin, casting a luminous silver sheen over the familiar contours of his face.
