Page 65 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
Chapter 25
Brink of Death
Cold sweat broke through my skin. The frost enveloped my heart, squeezing it tight. “I don’t understand,” my voice shook. “What does that mean?”
Francis and Roxanne shared a concerned look.
“Why would they take the children?” I persisted, taking a step toward the pair.
A heavy silence filled the air when her—full of terror—eyes met mine.
The wind howled its loud serenades, shaking the castle with its force. Dozens of snowflakes hit the windows above us in a beautiful waltz.
Francis cleared his throat, taking Roxanne’s crimson hand. “You need rest, let’s get you to bed.”
“No!” She shook her head rapidly. “I must stay.” She tried to move away from Francis’ embrace. “I have to be here. Florence needs me.”
Francis lowered his voice to a whisper. “You will only be in Caleb’s way and you know it.” He helped Roxanne to get on her feet; her shaking legs barely kept her upright. “Come now, Rox. You are about to lose consciousness.”
“No—I—No,” she stuttered, losing her balance for a moment. “I can’t—”
I caught her other hand for support. “I promise I will get you the moment Florence wakes.”
Roxanne stared me straight in the eyes for what felt like an eternity before she finally gave in. “All right,” she nodded slowly. “All right. Wake me if anything happens—anything at all.”
“I swear.” I squeezed her hand.
Francis’ eyes met mine when he mouthed a silentthank youbefore walking Roxanne up the stairs.
I was left all by myself in the hall by the main entrance. The blood slowly dried on the floor, painting the marble in a color of death.
Florence’s crimson body did not leave my mind, her frozen in place features made my lips tremble. Her bright smile had turned into a blue—as ice—sorrow.She will be all right,I told myself, not believing my own words. Everyone seemed confident in Caleb’s ability to heal, but I’d seen the damage. No one could survive a wound like that: no human at least—
The front door flew open, inviting the storm inside. Snow rushed toward me, cutting my face. My hands shielded my skin from the impact when I saw a figure standing at the threshold of our home; my hand flew toward the weapon at my waist.
“I came as soon as I could,” a familiar voice exclaimed. “How is she?” Simon forced the door closed behind him.
I took my hand off the sword, rushing toward our guest. “Caleb is healing her now.”
“Good. That’s good.” He took his snowy coat off. “I was so worried when they left. I would’ve gone with them, but—” Simon paused, setting his coat on the handle. “They destroyed Faris. Many lost their lives.”
I could not imagine the extent of horrors he had to witness firsthand.
“As long Florence is with Caleb, everything will be well.” Simon put his hand on my shoulder; I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words.
