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A black raven sat patiently on Raina’s gate. I’d seen Omni a few times, and I was sure it was him. He gazed at me with an almost amused gleam in his eye, as if he knew some big, deep secret about me. If it was true, I wished he would divulge his knowledge to me. A heads-up on some of the crazy stuff would be welcome.

It wasn’t until I reached the front door that I heard the voices inside. Considering his raven was sitting on the gate, it shouldn’t have been surprising to hear his voice. I figured Raina had made him his promised pot of stew for saving my life. His words in the hydra forest came back to me briefly, until a much sharper tone tore me from those thoughts.

I knew eavesdropping was wrong, but I listened at the door when I realized they were talking about me.

“Her powers are greater than we realized, Raina. It will be impossible to keep Fenrick and Granier from finding her. Mayor Harvet told me the Solamites are frustrated with Prince Leovan’s weakness. They want his son, Granier, to take the throne. That means Granier will need his bride soon. We thought we could just bring her here, and she’d fade into the rest of the village without any fanfare or notice. But—hell, a dragon caller. She’s not going to fade into the village. Nothing about Raphael fades. And now you ask this of me? It’s too dangerous—for both of them.”

“But she deserves to know the truth, and it’s not right,” Raina pleaded. “It’s not right to keep her away.”

“You and I both know the consequences, Raina. It’s too big a risk. No, we can’t let it happen.”

A loud caw startled me and abruptly ended the conversation inside. I squinted angrily back at the bird, and he seemed to be smiling back at me. I reached for the door, but it swung open first. Revel stood in the doorway. He filled half the front room. He eyed me suspiciously as if he knew I’d been listening.

“Fancy seeing you again.” I walked airily past him with all the innocence of a lamb. “Thought that was your bird out there.”

“Indeed, and you do realize I can see through his eyes. Did you get an earful?”

A blush covered my face. “Oh, that. I stayed outside because you were both having a private conversation. I thought it was only right.”

“Of course. Raina, I’ll come soon for that stew, thanks.” His mouth tilted up slightly. “See you later, Whisper.” He had to duck and turn slightly to the side to clear the doorway.

I turned around. Raina was wearing a grin. “Our little Rafi. I knew you were special. I just had no idea how special.” She walked over and hugged me.

I replayed some of their conversation in my mind. It was all rather cryptic, and there were plenty of holes in the information, but I knew they were talking about me. They were talking about Mom, too. She was alive. I was sure of it.

Sixteen

I glanced in the mirror and gasped. Was that a zit or a flaw in the mirror? I touched the spot on my face gently and blew out a sigh of relief. Stupid mirror. Three days, three straight days. That was how many days had passed without any shocking events. No unexpected zits, no killer fish chomping at my ankles, no discovering that I had some epic and unwanted power like dragon caller, and, most of all, no hard-to-read and deeply unsettling close encounters with the massive hazel-eyed warrior.

In the past few days, I’d stayed mostly at home, working in the garden with Raina, learning how to make fry bread and helping her string up herbs to dry for tea. They’d been my kind of days, and Raina and I had kept the conversation light and airy. We both needed it. I needed to absorb my new surroundings without all the noise of danger and powers and hot men with axes cluttering my thoughts. I brought up my grandparents once, and the only thing Raina would confirm was that they had indeed been the King and Queen of Troikana. But, as with the topic of my mom, she’d avoided giving out any details, so I let it drop.

I’d gotten halfway through a fourth day of peaceful bliss when Raina, very casually and without a second thought, dropped a bomb. Revel was coming to supper. I stood frozen in some kind of emotion I couldn’t quite put my finger on when she made the announcement. She didn’t seem to notice my catatonic state and briskly shooed me out to the garden to collect some potatoes for boar stew.

I spent the rest of the day helping peel klopf and witch fingers, while a war raged in my mind about whether Revel’s visit was good or bad news. A little of both, I’d concluded by the time the vegetables had been cut. Raina had handed me her very sharp kitchen knife to do the honor, and since the blade was razor thin, I forced myself not to think about our oversized dinner guest or risk removing a finger.

A long soak in the bath helped relax me, or at least, I was relaxed until I had to decide what to wear. I chided myself several times for caring, but that self-scolding did little to relieve my anxiety. Raina and I had all but cleared the trunk of Mom’s clothes. We washed them and mended a few hems. Now I had enough of a wardrobe to make a fashion choice difficult, especially for a woman who’d spent most of her life trying to disappear into bland skirts and blouses. Mom had been the opposite of bland. Her shiny black hair and violet eyes were only accessories to the rest of her beauty. She loved dresses with flowy bottoms and pretty prints, so instead of looking at a prim, staid, invisibility-inducing wardrobe, I was looking at drawers full of colorful, buttery-soft confections. I chose a peach-colored dress with a scoop collar and a lace-up bodice. The flouncy skirt came to just above my knees and hung in soft folds around my legs. I’d left behind my days of wearing a tight bun. I was getting used to the freedom of having my hair flow down around me, and I’d come to appreciate the color more—Paxton had once described it as toffee apple. An occasional bout of anguish grabbed hold of me when I thought about my dear friend and the worry I was causing him. I’d even started writing him a letter, but I had no idea how I’d ever get it to him.

I’d just finished lacing up the dress when a familiar deep voice rolled in from the front stoop. Was it bad that I’d already memorized his tones—including cocky, angry, non-committal and a new one, the one he’d used under the hydra tree that left me in a flustered state of heated confusion? This evening, he spoke in a smooth, pleasant tone, which I quickly stored with the rest. The fact that my hands shook as I finished tying the dress did not bode well for the rest of the evening. If I started acting like a bumbling fool in front of him, then I was going to make an excuse, a headache or some such thing, and scurry off to bed.

I glanced in the mirror again. This time the zit that was merely a mirror flaw was on my forehead. Raina laughed about something Revel said. The neckline on my dress was lower than I expected. I reached into the dresser to pull out one of the colorful scarves we’d found in the trunk. Raina said that Mom used to wear them in her hair. I could easily picture that, because she wore them at home, our home, too. I tied the blue scarf around my neck and turned it back and forth to see which angle looked best. None of them. It looked entirely out of place with the dress. Where was Paxton when I needed him? I pushed the scarf into the drawer and something made a metallic sound, like a chain scraping across the wooden bottom of the drawer.

I pulled out all the scarves and leaned down to look inside. A silver chain stuck out of a silk satchel. I pulled it out and lifted the chain free. A silver locket dangled from the end of the chain. I tugged open the sides to reveal miniature hand-painted portraits of a man and woman and then the necklace slipped from my fingers.

A sharp pain inches through my skull, and my thoughts splinter into a million pieces, then pull back together … in a place I’ve never been.

“That is such a pretty frock. Pink is always a good color on you.” The woman gazing admiringly at me has flawless skin and pale blonde hair tucked up under a cotton servant’s cap. A cotton apron with a green bib covers a simple, handsewn dress that falls all the way to her ankles. I turn to look in a mirror on a dressing table and suck in a sharp breath. It’s not my face staring back at me. It’s Mom’s face, only she’s younger, not more than a teenager, and as lovely as ever. The pink dress has a square decolletage, and a silver locket hangs around her long, graceful neck. She touches the necklace. “I know I stayed too long in the bath.” Her hands come up to show wrinkled fingertips. “But what is happening, Ella? Why is the house so quiet tonight? Why is supper postponed?” She presses her hand to her stomach. “I’m extra hungry.”

Her face turns from the mirror. The room is sumptuous. A bed topped with a lacy canopy and overflowing with damask pillows is the focal point in the vast room. Pink brocade drapes hang over tall windows. A dark blue chaise, upholstered in rich velvet, sits at the far end of the room near a massive fireplace with a carved marble mantel.

Ella, a young woman with doll-like features, loses the smile she wore a few seconds earlier.

“Ella”—she reaches to the woman’s hand—“What is it? Papa hasn’t been himself today, and I caught Mama in tears this morning. She insisted she just wasn’t feeling well.”

“Your Uncle Vestrun arrived while you were in the bath.”

I’m an observer, but I can feel the ice-cold chill running through Mom’s veins as if they’re running through my own. “No, why have the guards allowed him onto the palace grounds? Papa banished him.”

“Vestrun insisted they meet. He has gone to the Triumvirate of Sorcerers and gotten their permission. The Regnas have allied with Vestrun. They’re still unhappy with the King and Queen being only of Valian and Solamite blood. You know how eager the TOS are to keep the peace in Troikana.” Ella puts on a sympathetic, peaceful expression. “Worry not, Sassa. The King will make things right.”