Page 34 of Hair, She Bears
“What does it make?”
Instead of responding, the raven hopped to the end of the sofa and took flight. It soared around the tower, circling the room twice before returning to the sofa.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don’t understand you,” she said, her gaze sliding over the jars of ingredients. Did she have everything written on the parchment?
She walked to the rear wall, her fingertip trailing along the row of unlabeled jars, selected several of the containers, then carried them to her worktable. With the beginning stage of Votras Alute resting in the mortar, she couldn’t use the stone bowl to combine the ingredients on the parchment, or she would ruin the batch. She grumbled, her gaze lifted to the bird.
“I hope this is worth the trouble you’re causing me.”
The bird turned away, jumped down from the sofa, pecked one of the stones in the floor, then glanced over at her.
“Do you think it will work?”
After collecting the jars from the worktable, she scooted around the sofa and set them next to the fireplace, lining them up in order of use. She returned to her worktable and grabbed the pestle, knocking the green-grey powder from its base. A small bit of residue remained on the base of the pestle. She glanced over at the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Holding the pestle in the embers, she burned off the remaining powder, sat on the floor, and smoothed the parchment flat, pinning it open with two jars. The raven took residence on the nearest jar, watching her with interest as she took a large pinch of marigold and ground the plant into dust, adding thistle, then licorice root. The powder took on a glittering black color. A burst of elation exploded from the bird. It hopped off the jar and landed in the center of the pile.
“Shoo.” Zenna waved her hand, but the bird ignored her and sunk its beak into the mound.
A screech echoed off the rafters. The raven fluttered madly as the black powder rose from the floor and swirled around it, enclosing the bird in an opaque whirlwind of glittering onyx.
Zenna scrambled backward, her eyes widening. The whirlwind grew larger and lifted the raven, swirling faster and faster as the raven screamed. Covering her ears, Zenna ducked behind the sofa. Feathers exploded from the whirlwind, covering her and the tower with black fluff, which dissolved like mist before the morning sun.
“That was my least favorite experience so far,” a deep voice, coated in exhaustion, rumbled.
Zenna peeked out, her gaze landing on a nude figure resting beside the fireplace.
“Malik?”
“In the flesh, as it were.” He groaned and sat up.
“Malik!” She leapt over the sofa and dove at him, knocking him onto his back. “I thought you were dead.”
“I thought the same thing.” He buried his face in her neck, his arms tightening around her and crushing her waist.
She cried out, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. Malik drew away, his face dark. Lifting his hand, he brushed a piece of hair from her face, and hissed. His finger lightly traced the bruise on her cheekbone.
“It’s nothing,” she said.
“Nothing doesn’t make you scream in pain.”
“I heal quickly.” She stilled his finger, her hand closing around his, and forced a weary smile. “How did you survive your father’s wrath?”
“After torturing me unconscious, he transformed me into a raven. I woke in a cage hanging in the prison beneath the center of the compound. He planned to impose a regimented schedule of torment to reprogram me into the son he wanted. My cellmate took pity and released me from the cage. I was able to squeeze through the bars of the upper window and fly away.”
“Who was your cellmate?”
“Carlyle.”
“Your uncle?” Zenna crawled backward off Malik, numbness flowing through her body. “Mother found him?”
“And punished him as well,” Malik said as he sat up again. He did not ask how Zenna came to learn of Carlyle’s familial connection to him. “My father broke his legs.”
“Why would he do that?” Zenna gasped.
“Because Carlyle betrayed him.”
A whimper clawed its way out of Zenna. She and Malik had been foolish to think they could escape Mother’s grasp.
