Page 28 of Ravenrose

Ifight the men every step of the way until the two are practically carrying me through the castle foyer and out what remains of the front gate.

The sight of the dead or dying soldiers littering the ground silences my screams as shock takes over. Blood stains the cobblestones; bodies, most of them wearing Sitaran armour, lie twisted in the rubble. Unable to take in any more of the horror, I squeeze my eyes shut tight, but the smell of death is heavy in the air.

Several minutes pass.

With my eyes closed, I have no warning before a dark hood is suddenly shoved over my head.

No.

I thrash violently as darkness crashes over me. Panic fills me, and I lose it. I’m a child again, seeing those black shadows leaking into my room between cracks in the door. Darkness everywhere. I tremble as it swallows everything.

My mother’s scream.

The darkness took her. And now the Raven has come for me, too.

Terror takes hold, seizing my lungs, striking some hollow place inside me until all the fight bleeds from my body, and I go limp.

The men no longer have to force me. I allow myself to be half-dragged, half-carried out of Rosecliff. The sounds of war and the smell of bloodshed around me fade away.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally come to a stop. In my current state of whatever this is—shock, maybe—it’s difficult to say just how far we’ve traveled from Rosecliff. But there are new voices now—male. I’m too lost in my head to make out what they’re saying, but they are speaking the common tongue.

I’m nudged forward, and I’m aware that we’ve moved somewhere inside. The wind no longer whips at my exposed skin and skirts.

A few more steps and then an abrupt stop before I’m thrown to the ground. Limbs shaking, I use my bound hands to push myself up to my knees just as someone rips the dark hood from my head.

The sudden light is blinding and warm; it chases back the shadows that had wrapped around my throat, and I suck in a sharp breath. Daylight. It takes several long breaths before my body stops shaking, for the light to chase back the remaining shadows, the ones that linger in my mind.

I blink a few times, looking around. We’re inside a large canvas tent. My eyes dart wildly around, and for a moment, pure terror surges. The Raven. No longer just the creature from my nightmares. It’s here—was here. What if they let it take me?

Seeing more large, armour-clad Kovari soldiers surrounding me, I let out a sigh of relief. Silver and black armour. Not a shadow demon in sight.

It takes a few more seconds for me to realize that someone is speaking—speaking to me.

Looking around for the source of the voice, I find it in the center of the room. And there, sitting atop a high-back chair with a modest silver circlet on his head, is just about the last person I expect to see.

“Princess.” Theo smiles at me, waving away several clerks still pressing for his attention and leaning forward to get a better look at me. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Laughter tumbles out of me; I’m powerless to stop it. And from the looks the others are giving me around the tent, I know I must look insane.

Theo has stopped talking, his eyes on me and me alone, and aside from my own maniacal fit of laughter, the tent is dead silent.

Did he ask me a question?

Recovering enough to form thoughts and put them into words, I release a steadying breath, straightening as best I can from my position on the ground. I lift my chin to address the former prisoner.

Theo is wearing new armour. His pretty face is mottled with perhaps even more dirt and blood than when I last saw him.

“Nice crown, Theo,” is all I say to the astonishment of our surrounding audience.

The corner of his mouth twitches up, and I recognize the look of quiet amusement I’ve come to expect from Theo.

The guard to Theo’s left, however, doesn’t find it quite so amusing. He steps forward, no doubt to smack me for such impropriety. “You’ll not speak to the prince in that way—” His arm lifts, just as I expect, and I brace myself for the hit.

But it never comes. Theo raises a single hand in objection, his eyes on mine. I swear, I can see wheels turning in those sapphire eyes.

The prince. The man’s words echo in the fog that is my current state of mind, and I raise my brows at the title before shooting his guard a taunting look anyway, daring him to hit me.

What do I have to lose?