Page 44 of Crown of Darkness
“No,” Thiago says, pointing at her. Then he turns to Finn. “No. I don’t want to start a bloody vendetta against an assassin’s guild. Besides, we might need him on our side come Elms Day.”
“I’ll talk to Vi,” Thalia promises. “Once I have a description of the fae she saw, I might be able to work out who they are. I’ll send my little birds out into the street and see if they can hear something interesting.”
She means that literally, for there are numerous birds up in the aerie that belong to her. She’s spent centuries cultivating the demi-fey of the city, and now she has hundreds of them that will ride one of her sparrows into the city and report back to her, in exchange for milk and honey.
The fae ignore the demi-fey, because they’re capricious and so difficult to keep focused that they make it seem easier to corral cats. But if there’s one thing the demi-fey are good at, it’s remembering something word for word, and if you actuallycanget them to communicate with you, they’re surprisingly effective.
Thoughts brew in Thiago’s eyes. “We need to get you inside the library at Ravenal.”
“I think concentrating on this plot is more important.”
“And Thalia will have information for us as soon as she can,” Thiago counters, “but I’m not merely trying to assist your search. Ravenal lost its queen. I’ve sent missives to the crown princess, but she’s been putting me off, and to be honest, I haven’t turned my attention to our allies enough.” He gives me a dangerous smile. “Your mother is waiting for a counterattack? Well, why not give it to her? Ravenal sits at her flanks, and she murdered their queen. If I can give the crown princess a reason to march her armies north, then we might be able to crush Asturia between us. I think it’s time we sent word to Kyrian and Lucere and see if they want to crush a queen.”
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Chapter Eight
The towers of Ravenspire loom ahead of us as we ride from the Hallow we arrived at mere minutes ago.
Nervous energy runs through me.
Queen Lucidia ruled over Ravenal with a miserly hand for centuries, and I see the effects of that in the countryside as I ride past. The fae we pass wear tattered homespun, and everything is much-mended—though there are smiles on the faces of the children, and they run alongside our horses for miles, waving brightly colored ribbons.
Now that she’s dead, her eldest great-granddaughter, Lucere, has made a claim for the throne, and she’s well-backed by her brother, the Prince of Ravens.
Not every member of the Ravenal royal family agrees with that choice, but the Prince of Ravens holds the military and if he backs Lucere, there’s little the others can do about it.
“Do you think Princess Lucere will hold me accountable for her great-grandmother’s death?” I murmur as I ride beside Thiago.
Ravenspire looms over the forest, and a single watchfire in the main garrison looks like an eye watching us as we approach.
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “She knows you have nothing to do with your mother. Adaia killed Queen Lucere, and it is Asturia who will bear the malice for that act. Not you, Vi. You cannot take on your mother’s sins.”
The Prince of Ravens waits at the balcony as we ride into the courtyard, fae light glittering over the obsidian scales carved into his tunic. Glossy black feathers rain from his shoulders, though I can’t quite see whether they’re wings or a cloak.
“Has to be a cloak,” I mutter.
None of the seelie would ever align himself with an unseelie trait.
“It is a cloak,” Thalia says. There was some argument over whether she should stay in Ceres or not, but they left Baylor in charge. By the time we return, her little spies should have enough information for us. “Though there’s rumor Corvin bears Lucidia’s gift in his blood. They say he owns the ability to both see through the eyes of his ravens and shift shapes. Eris always threatens to put an arrow through any ravens she sees.”
Beside him stands his sister, Princess Lucere, who is angling to replace the title with Queen. My breath catches when I see her gown. It’s pure white, carved of tiny white scales that blink in the night. Gold netting is woven through her blond hair, and the way she’s standing makes the light fall on her just so….
Beside Corvin’s pure black, she’s a glowing moon.
“Ah,” mutters Eris. “There’s the bitch herself.”
“White.” Thaliatsksunder her breath. “Always wearing white. Who does she think she is? A maiden of Maia?”
“You’re wearing white.”
“That’s because I look good in white,” Thalia replies.
I gather my mare’s reins. “We don’t like the princess of Ravenal?”
Eris’s eyes thin. “Shall we just say that ravens aren’t the only creatures in the vicinity I’ve threatened to put an arrow through.”
I share a glance with Thalia, but though she goes to speak, she clearly thinks better of it.
