Page 20 of Faeling
Ravenna sprung from the bed and turned her back to the door.
“Open up, in the name of the lord commander!” a male shouted on the other side.
No chance.
Ravenna used the precious few moments she had to set her glamour. It wasn’t perfect, sitting uncomfortably on her sweaty skin, but when the door burst open, splinters raining from where the lock had once been, it was Aine’s face that stared at the incoming soldiers in shock.
At least five warriors poured into her tiny room, taking up allthe air, before the lord commander himself strutted in.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.
Ulrich lifted the lamp he carried, shining it into her eyes. Ravenna glared at him, not sure if they were hers or her mother’s eyes, but she was too angry to care.
The lord commander’s nostrils flared, and to her horror, she realized all the sensitive orc noses could scent what she’d been doing. Still, she refused to flush or pale or flinch. This washerroom, she could do as she liked.
“Search it,” Ulrich commanded his men.
Ravenna watched as the warriors went to work stripping and tearing apart her room. The mattress was upended, every sheet and blanket pulled away. The pillows were ripped from their covers, every scrap of clothing she owned was pulled from her small trunk, and her handful of books were each tossed onto her small table for Ulrich to rifle through.
Clenching her fists, she made herself stand still as the big bodies buffeted her. But when someone pulled out her cloak, the midnight blue fabric gleaming in the low lamplight, Ravenna couldn’t bear it.
“Don’t touch that,” she spat, grabbing the cloak out of the warrior’s surprised hands.
“Everything must be searched,” Ulrich said in an almost bored tone.
Clutching the cloak to her chest, she bared her teeth at the lord commander. If they wanted it, they’d have to pry it from her scratching, vicious hands.
“How dare you?” Ravenna demanded, using her outrage to quell her tears. “You can’t just—”
“Ican,” Ulrich corrected. “I am lord commander of this city,and the king’s safety is my most sacred duty.”
“I’mnota threat to the king.”
Ulrich spared her a glance. “Everyone is subject to inspection.”
“This isn’t inspection, this is intimidation.”
“If you like.”
A furious noise erupted from her throat, but there was nothing Ravenna could do. Forced to wallow in her helplessness, she watched on as every single one of her things was touched, shaken, pored over, and even ransacked.
Eventually, one of the warriors came for her cloak. She backed up into the wall, shaking her head.
“Don’t be difficult, mistress,” the warrior said, not unkindly.
Lips pursed, Ravenna held up the cloak for him to see, turning it back and forth and shaking it out. “It’s just a cloak, nothing t-to see,” she said, horrified when her voice began to break.
The warrior, perhaps not unsympathetic, allowed her to hold it up as he quickly ran his hands over it, checking for secret pockets. When he found nothing and stepped back, Ravenna snatched the cloak to her chest again, shielding herself with it.
With so many bodies crammed into her tiny room, and with very little to truly inspect, the process took less than a handful of minutes. It felt much longer.
Seething, Ravenna glared again at the lord commander—only to jump forward when she saw what he had in his hands.
Her mother’s grimoire.
Leatherbound and far more well-loved than her other books, the grimoire was her most treasured possession apart from hercloak. She and Aine had painstakingly filled the pages together with recipes, knitting patterns, instructions on how to do the many things Aine had taught her, and even little spells and incantations to help Ravenna remember how best to use her magic.
It was all her mother’s knowledge, bound up in one precious book. And nowheheld it.
