I shook my head. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”
Taking a few steps towards me, she looked hesitant. “You aren’t thinking of fleeing, are you? You’ll never get past theguards, they’re stationed everywhere,” she whispered.
I huffed a laugh, but it was devoid of any humor. “And risk getting thrown in the dungeons? No thank you. I’ve spent enough time in there tonight.” Pushing off the window, I crossed the chamber and sat on my bed.
She nodded, but she didn’t look completely reassured. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“I’ll be fine.” Faking a yawn, I said, “I just need to sleep and forget this day.”
“Alright,” she said, retreating. “I’ll see you in the morning, Miss. Sleep well.” With that, she turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
I waited a few minutes until I knew she was truly gone. Retrieving the bone from my pocket, I used my magic to make it visible again.
I studied it in my hand. It was no bigger than my thumb. I didn’t let myself wonder what poor creature it had once belonged to.
With a heavy sigh, I stood. I didn’t want to have to resort to this. Every fiber of my being screamed at me not to do it, to find another way. I would almost certainly regret it, but I was desperate. I needed more potion, and there was only one person who could get it for me.
It was time I summoned the Crow.
***
“By bone’s sacred decree, I summon thee.” Clutching the bone in both hands, I uttered the words I’d hoped I would never need to use. They tasted like ash on my tongue, but there would be no taking them back. I’d invited the wretch to my door, now I’d have to wait to see if she would come knocking.
I only hoped her visit would come swiftly because, for me, time was a precious resource, on the verge of being exhausted.
I felt it almost instantaneously: the same gust of wind that had raised the hairs on the back of my neck the night of my Ascension Ball. It seemed so long ago now.
Sure enough, the drapes fluttered as if the windows had been left open. Sheets of parchment scattered across the breakfast table and spilled to the ground like playing cards dealt by an invisible hand. My hair levitated and my pink gown, now freckled with filth and blood, billowed in the breeze. The candles flickered and died, casting the chamber in near darkness—the hearth’s flames the only source of light to be found.
A cloaked figure materialized before the mirror, casting no reflection. My entire body stiffened at the sight of the Crow, every muscle tense. She looked just as sinister in her black robes as the first night I had seen her. Like before, a hood was drawn over her head, shrouding her face in shadow. Though I could not see it, I knew her gaze was fixed on me.
“You called, daughter of Sarina,” she said in her high-pitched voice.
It was unsettling the way the dancing shadows seemed to be drawn to her, yet she herself did not cast any shadow. I straightened my posture and unclenched my fists, allowing my hands to fall casually to my sides. I’d eat sea glass before I showed her any fear.
“There’s been an incident,” I drawled, forcing my eyes to settle on the faceless dark within the folds of her hood.
“Go on,” she crooned, an unmistakable note of intrigue in her voice.
“My potion is gone—destroyed. I would like you to provide me with another. So I can complete my end of the bargain.” I struggled to get my next word out. “Please?”
For a moment, she said nothing. I didn’t breathe while Iwaited for her response. Finally, she tilted her head slightly and spoke. “As I’ve told you once before, that potion is exceptionally difficult to produce.”
My nails bit into my palms. “I remember… I just hoped you had another.”
“Not only are its ingredients so rare they are near impossible to source, but brewing it is an incredibly complex, time-consuming process.”
Feeling my jaw clench, I nodded.
“But I will provide you with a replacement potion… for a price,” she said in a lilting voice.
My heart skipped a beat, then promptly sank. I’d suspected she was going to make this difficult. “A price?”
“Yes, pretty one, a price. Have I not already so generously bequeathed you with the opportunity to compensate for past wrong doings, asking nothing in return but that you break the heart of a mortal prince?”
“Yes, but—”
“Even my generosity knows bounds.”
