Page 10 of Drawn into Oblivion

“I don’t feel right, but I don’t want to worry my sister,” he whispered. “Can you help me?”

The empress always said her brother sometimes seemed more mature than a boy his age should, but hearing such things out of a ten-year-old’s mouth was still surprising.

“What do you mean ‘don’t feel right’? Something physical?” she asked, matching his low volume. He did look a little flushed, and his improved nutrition hadn’t added any weight to his thin frame, but the color in his cheeks could be from anything, and his sword practice and young age were most likely why he remained thin.

“I sometimes get a headache, but mostly I feel…strange. I think I’ve got something,” he confessed with an anxious frown.

“You should really talk to the empress about it. Out of anyone here, she could help you the most. She was an apothecary, wasn’t she?”

“I thought all black-haired people were apothecaries.”

“Not in my experience,” she said slowly, not wanting to speak for all crows. “I was given work no one else wanted to do—mostly menial labor and household tasks.”

A breakfast tray appeared in front of her, and she looked up with a start. Rosuke sat next to her—not Oka but her—and his tray was loaded as heavily as Oka’s, though it contained a larger variety of food. Mai glanced at her breakfast with surprise. Everything she usually took was there, even in the right amounts.

“How did you—” she began, but the slash of red on Rosuke’s cheeks tied her tongue in a knot.

“Young Oka, it is my opinion,” Rosuke chimed in, “that no one in your village knew much about the rest of the world, for it is as she says. For the most part, crows were given low-paying, unwanted jobs.”

“Figures,” Oka said with a sigh. He transferred an alarmingly large amount of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Did you like our combat demonstration yesterday?” he asked Oka before taking a bite of rice.

“It was amazing,” Oka effused, mouth full. Mai had difficulty understanding him. “I want to be as good as you someday.”

Rosuke smiled and laughed. “I’m confident you’ll be an excellent swordsman. You and I have a lesson this afternoon, don’t forget.” He popped a slice of fruit into his mouth, and Mai couldn’t stop staring at the drop of juice on his lip.

“You were there, Mai. Did you like it?” Oka asked.

Mai was jolted into paying attention, and her scream at the sparring match made her stomach twist. She hated that she had been so…invested. “Yes, it was remarkable. Both the high general and commander showed an incredible amount of skill. Our forces are lucky to have them.” She didn’t fear offering a small bit of flattery. It was the plain and simple truth.

“Why do you always call him commander?” Oka asked.

Mai swallowed hard.

“You’re welcome to call me Rosuke,” he offered before eating another orange slice.

“I… I couldn’t,” she evaded, looking down at her plate of untouched food. Using his name would be too hard.

“Please?” he asked so gently that it shocked her into looking at him again. His gaze was steady and calm, not threatening at all, but it made her feel warm.

“All right,” she grudgingly agreed. Little steps.

Rosuke quirked his lips with amusement, no doubt due to her careful dodge of using his name. “May I drop the elder with you, then?” he asked, leaning closer.

Mai broke eye contact, her anxiety blooming like a toxic flower. He was too close. “I suppose that would be fair,” she conceded.

“Speaking of sword practice, Mai, I saw some of your lesson yesterday morning.”

A tiny lie. Truthfully, Rosuke had watched her entire practice. He always did, unless he absolutely couldn’t spare the time. Vallen taught thirty women talented in combat twice a week—a first for the Dark Court. Previous empresses had only recruited men into their forces, and Mai was the only high-ranking member of the court being trained. She wasn’t a designated officer—she had too many other responsibilities as a house elder—but she was by far the best of the class. If she weren’t a court member, she’d be one of his direct subordinates.

“You’re good, but not nearly as good as I am,” he teased, watching her reaction.

Mai glared at him. Good. A bit of anger was better than the anxiety that had furrowed her forehead and chased away her emerald gaze the moment he’d suggested eating the morning meal together.

Although, even nervousness was better than the ice-cold shoulder she’d given him the night they’d met. He had tried his best to flirt with her, having been captivated by the striking tilt of her intelligent eyes, but she had rebuffed all his advances with freezing glances.

“Well, obviously,” she snapped. “How old are you now?”