Page 1 of Heart of the Raven
Chapter One
A screamof terror died in my throat as the nightmare gave way to reality. I bolted upright, one hand pressed to my mouth while blood rushed to my ears. Beads of sweat gathered around my neck and dripped down my back. Ripping the covers off, I stumbled out of the heavy blankets and paced, my feet sinking into the padded carpet of my borrowed room in my cousin Cedric’s mysterious castle. Hiding in the castle hadn’t been my first choice, and with my nightmares intensifying, I knew I had to make yet another life changing decision.
With shaking fingers, I pulled on a silk robe to keep the chill away and hoped my scream hadn’t woken anyone. But none disturbed my rest. I posed as a maid to hide my identity. I was a shameful maid, but visitors came to the castle only once a year. Betty, the housekeeper, did most of the work herself, occasionally giving me minor grievances for not helping more. But she understood my plight. I was a noble, not some servant. Pretending to be a maid could not change the fact I was used to others waiting on me hand and foot. Not the other way around.
I fumbled for a candle and lit it with the quick strike of flint against stone. I almost screamed when I caught my shadow in the mirror and settled down on the stool in front of it, dropping my head into my hands before studying my reflection. My father used to tell me my eyes were the color of copper and he nicknamed me his “little Jewel”. But now my eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep and the nightmares that frayed my nerves. I was tall and willowy with an oval face and high cheekbones that accented my eyes and mouth. Wisps of my bright yellow hair tumbled out of the bun I’d twirled on top of my head. My sunlight colored hair was a sharp contrast to my dark skin. I got my darker coloring from my father and my hair from my mother. Unlike me, she was a pale beauty while I was a dark one, but just like her, I was strong-willed and stubborn to a fault. Because the women in my family were renowned for our beauty, I assumed life would be easy. I did not expect trouble to find me, nor nightmares to flood my dreams.
Watching the candle light flicker, I took a deep breath and recalled my dream. Betty said that dreams were nods to the future, and recalling them, or writing them down, could help unravel what might happen. Dreams were omens to keep one from falling into folly or to assist with making the right choice when a decision came. A question had been in the back of my mind before, but now the dream seemed to make it clear. I rubbed my thumbs across my wrists, an old habit to help calm my nerves. I closed my eyes, and I was right back in the dream.
* * *
Shadows surrounded me,and although I could only make out vague shapes, I knew they were the trunks of old trees. I stood in a glade, lost, alone, searching for the way out while a voice called to me, thin and whispery.Sasha. Come to me, child. Come and discover your destiny.
Shadows blurred into one unending stream of darkness. The ground below me opened, and I fell into a nameless void while the wind streamed around me and that voice shouted my name.Sasha! Not down there, not to where the Goddess sleeps.
Velvet feathers, darker than ink, swirled around me, and then came the caw of a raven as it flew after me. I opened my mouth. A scream tore out, too late. I was hurled, weightless, into darkness.
* * *
My eyes cameopen but the darkness clogged my throat. It was within me, around me, pressing in as though it would take my life. I fought to stay in control of my panic while I watched the flame flicker, casting more shadows across the room. It was foolish to be afraid of the dark, but I needed the light. I needed the sun.
The stool tumbled to the floor as I leaped up and paced back and forth. My silk robe swept the floor with each turn. There would be no more sleep for me tonight. I had to stop the recurring nightmares; I had to find someone who could help me. As I paced in the wee hours of dawn, an idea came to me. My family was not close, and I was an only child, but Mother had spoken with disgust about her mother’s mother. A woman who hadn’t been born into wealth and continued to live as a common peasant. Mother Misha. She was a fortune-teller who lived in Capern. The city would take two weeks to reach by foot, faster by horse, but it was spring. The trade routes were opening back up and if the fates were with me, I could secure passage with the next traders and get answers. I sat down again to put ink to parchment and scribbled a note. My blood ran cold in my veins at the thought of leaving, but I knew it was time.
Chapter Two
“Sasha! You’ve arrived!”An excited voice shouted as I trotted up to the wagon.
I rode on the back of a white warhorse whose mane and tail I'd braided with red ribbon. I was proud of the horse my cousin had given me and named her Lotus after the white flowers that floated in the water fountains both in the village of Whispering Vine and back at my cousin's castle.
“Yes, I'm here,” I replied, gently pulling on the reins to bring Lotus to a stop. “Where else would I be?”
My friend, Mari, laughed from the seat of the wagon, her black hair braided around the crown of her head. Wisps fell free, and she smiled at me as she rested a hand on her belly. She had a wide mouth and flat nose, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. She'd seen through my cold exterior at once and had become a close friend in the village. “Jorge said that at the last moment you'd change your mind and wouldn't come.” She grinned.
Jorge, the tradesman, was her husband. Each spring, when the weather cleared, he loaded up a shipment of wines from Lord Cedric's vineyard and took them to the nearby villages to trade. A small group always went with him. Since the journey was long, and I wanted to reach Capern, his wife, Mari, had agreed to come. They had been married a year and had no children yet, but her eyes sparkled with the thought of adventure. Although I could have warned her that her bottom would soon be sore from sitting on the wagon bench day after day and sleeping in the dew-soaked grass was miserable. Already, I missed the comforts of Lord Cedric's castle. But no matter, it was time I set off on my own. Comforts would come aplenty for me, I'd see that they did.
“Did you place a bet?” I asked, for Mari seemed the sort.
“Aye,” she snickered, “he owes us a bottle of wine that we'll share at sundown.”
Despite my misgivings, her gaiety won me over, and I gave her a thin smile.
“Tell me now.” Mari's eyes went to the horse. “You're pretending to be a maid in the castle and yet you have a war horse?”
Few knew I was Lord Cedric's cousin, and I intended to keep it that way. The less they knew about me, the better. “He would not take no for an answer,” I replied.
Mari paused a moment, studying me. I recognized what she saw. Although I did minor work at the castle from time to time, my hands were still smooth. I often wore gowns made of expensive silk. Today featured a sky blue dress, low cut in the front and a bright red cloak which matched the ribbons I'd woven into Lotus’ mane. My yellow hair was piled on top of my head in a sophisticated bun, emphasizing my long neck. I'd even put rouge on my cheeks and lips, blending it into my light brown skin. Too much for a hard journey, but I wanted to feel comfortable. My three bundles had been bustled away into the wagon by the servant sent down from the castle to walk with me. I refused to let Lord Cedric and his lady see me off. It would only confirm my identity, something I did not want. Although, from the way Mari studied me, taking in the war horse, the bundles and the slight flaring of her nostrils, I knew I had gone too far.
Mari eyed my war horse. “Look, I know you don't want me to say this, but you need to be careful if you don't want to draw unwanted attention to yourself.”
I pursed my lips together, well aware I'd overdone it. Mari was the one villager I trusted with my secret. Her compassion and curiosity finally made me give in. During one of the first festivals I spent in Whispering Vine, I drank too much wine, as was the custom, and ended up spilling my secret to Mari. She'd hooted with laughter. Being able to share boosted my spirits. Although Mari was not of high birth, I liked her. Her spirits were always light, and she often found reason to laugh.
“It's just a horse,” I replied, “No different from the horses you have.”
“Oh, really?” Mari rolled her eyes. “Your white mare is for nobility, but no matter, if anyone asks we're going to sell her for breeding. Actually,” she held up a finger, “that's not a bad idea. If things don't go as planned in Capern, you can always sell the horse.”
I wanted to scowl at her but couldn't. The horse wasn't for sale. What was the point in having possessions if one had to sell them all the time?
“Now come sit.” Mari patted the wagon. “Amuse me while the men finish loading. I want to know why you decided to leave.”
