I’m uncertain how long the crow and I stare each other down, but my eyes sting from my lack of blinking, my lungs burn from the shallowness of my breaths, and my pulse gushes like a submarine river.
“What the underworld are you?” I hiss through clenched teeth.
The bird does not answer.
Why would it, though? It’s a bird.
Or is it?
“Are you going to stab me with your beak or carve my heart out with your talons?”
The creature doesn’t roll its eyes, but its lids seem to clamp down around the gold, lending it a very judgy mien.
I spear my fingers through my hair, pressing the quivering locks back, attempting to make sense of a nonsensical occurrence. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
The crow continues to stare at me as though it’s wondering what it’s supposed to do withme.
“A cage!”
That ruffles the crow’s feathers. The bird backs up until its tail brushes the wall, getting as much space between us as physically possible.
Huh.“You understand me?”
Why did I assume it wouldn’t? Minimus understands me.
As I think of my serpent friend, my gaze finally wanders off the crow and onto my window, onto the canal below. Has he healed? Has he forgiven me for sending him away so brusquely?
The soft click of talons has my gaze jolting back to the armoire. The crow’s turned its body and attention to the waters of Mareluce that flow dark in spite of the bright sunshine. As though it feels me staring, its head swivels back toward me.
“How about we make a pact? I won’t lock you up”—it isn’t like I have a cage on hand anyway—“as long as you don’t attack me or anyone living in this house. My mother and grandmother aren’t immune to iron.” I nod toward its feet.
The crow peers at his talons. Its neck fluffs up as he lifts the blood-stained one, managing to level it in front of its nose. It sniffs, or I imagine it does. It’s not like I can see its nostrils from where I stand.
What I do see is its tongue dart out and taste the iron. The creature freezes, looks at me over the gleaming point of its weaponized nail, then smacks its talon down, and although its body is no longer built from metal, the thwack rattles the wood.
Its reaction reminds me of Minimus the first time we met. I never thought my blood smelled odd, but if animals have such strong reactions to it, then it must. I lift my bandaged arm and take a whiff. Notes of copper and warmth dance off the gauze; no honey or brine or Cauldron only knows what arrests animals so.
“So . . . do we have a deal?” My brain buzzes from the pressure of my nerves. I want to shut my eyes until the strain subsides but refuse to look away from the thing. “If it’s a yes and you understand me, nod your head.”
The crow becomes statue still. Of course, I was deluding myself. Just because serpents are smart doesn’t mean—
The bird’s head dips and rises.
I must gasp because a lock of hair lifts off my face before colliding right back into my elevated lashes. A minute passes. Two. “Gods, you do understand me . . .” I lick my lips. “Any chance you can talk as well? I’d really appreciate hearing how you’ll get Dante on the throne.”
The crow doesn’t react. Then again, what am I expecting? For the bird to actually answer?
“I have a date with him. I’ll try to get him to take me to the palace. This way, I can retrieve yourfriend.”
The crow’s golden eyes turn slitted. Have I offended him by calling the second statue his friend?
The coin Phoebus tossed me burns a hole in my pocket. “I have an errand to run.” I move toward the bag that gapes open on the bed, silken blue peeping from its depth, and pluck out my dress. A few threads have snagged where the spikes rubbed against the fabric, but it’s nothing too awful. “I’m going to hang this up.” I walk over to my armoire and rest my palm on the handle. I hold my breath, expecting the bird to arrow its body low and dive like the scarlet cranes that fish in the canal. Even immune to the metal, an iron beak through the temple would probably put an end to my life.
I twist the knob and the hinges groan.
The crow doesn’t flinch. It doesn’t attack either.
I draw the door wide, then grope around for a hanger, gaze affixed to the black bird looming over my head. It’s not as small as a duck but it’s hardly as large as the beasts Headmistress Alice spoke of, the ones reputed to kidnap entire villages.
