Page 6 of The Raven Queen

But a cure, even more than a female heir, would strengthen our kingdom’s position—myposition. Maybe, justmaybe, it would be the key that unlocked the cage of my marriage. It wouldfreeme.

Hills’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “It’s a sham,” she said. “Just an opiate in a corn starch solution with some glitter added to replicate the iridescent shimmer of the true healing elixir.”

My shoulders slumped, the hope within me fizzling out.

For ten years, we had been searching for a cure to the wasting sickness that didn’t involve harvesting blood from a stable of captive Healers. We could producesomeof the true elixir from the few who volunteered their blood, but the production quantity wasn’t even a thousandth of what it had been when those same Healers had been Mother’s slaves. It’s not that I approved of her methods—slavery, forced breeding, and what essentially amounted to daily torture—but watching the rapid deterioration of the Corvo Kingdom now that we werewithoutready access to the healing elixir had helped me to understand her reasoning. Desperation would drive even the noblest queen down a corrupt path.

“What does Mother plan on doing with the prisoner?” I asked, returning my attention to the tower. The fact that the pharmacist had been imprisoned in the towerat allsuggested she meant to make an example of them.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Hills admitted. “Perhaps you should pay her a visit. I hear she’s bedridden again today.”

I sighed, nodding slowly. I wasn’t due to meet with the ailing queen, my mother, until tomorrow, but digging into the situation surrounding the prisoner would provide a much-needed distraction while I awaited my despised husband’s return.

“Are we done?” I asked, glancing at both of my trusted advisors. The simmering hatred for my husband burning in Garath’s eyes hit too close to home, and I slid my chair back like I was preparing to stand. “I should get cleaned up if I am to visit Mother.”

“Just one other thing,” Hills said, frowning. “I considered not mentioning it, but . . . ” She hesitated.

“What is it?” I asked, surprised to see my no-nonsense general second-guessing herself.

“The Ferals,” she finally said. “Our rangers stationed in the east have been receiving reports from the outlying villages of organized attacks on small farms and hunting camps.”

My eyebrows rose. “That’s impossible.” I laughed under my breath and shook my head. “Ferals don’t organize. It’s probably just Sierra soldiers.” Their occupying forces had camps all along our eastern border, and they were often just as brutish as Ferals.

Hills raised one shoulder. “I sent a special team out to investigate. It could be nothing.”

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Or it could besomething.”

The Ferals—the descendants of the people who had devolved three hundred years ago during the Turn, when the same virus that gifted my ancestors their superhuman giftstore awaythe humanity from theirs—had been a thorn in our kingdom’s side since before I was born. Despite our best efforts to eradicate them from our forested wildlands, they were still often sighted around the smaller villages, especially those nearer the Sierra Kingdom’s ever-encroaching border.

At least King Eduart had a much larger Feral problem to deal with in his territory.

I wondered if we could use that to our advantage. Even if the Ferals weren’t truly organizing, perhaps we could plant evidence that corroborated the reports—just enough to pull King Eduart’s focus away from our kingdom long enough for us to regroup and formulate a plan to regain our independence. If he would just pull back his occupying forces and remove his implied threat to invade Corvo City should I displease him—or his son—there was a chance we would be able to actually fight back.

I have given my husband many gifts over the ten years we’ve been married, to appease him and his father both. But if King Eduart were to focus his military efforts on the Ferals, it mightfinallybe time to give Alastor the one gift he actually deserved. An accident. The kind he wouldn’t recover from.

“Nyx is coming,” Garath warned, sensing the youthful raven a few seconds before she swooped in through the open window.

Nyx flew around the sitting room before landing on Sid’s vacant stand in the corner. Nyx—short for Onyx—has been Liam’s faithful companion since the day of his birth, just as Sid has been mine. If she was here, then Liam wasn’t far behind.

Sid’s talons clicked on the chairback behind me as he fluffed his wings. The younger raven’s dramatic window entrances always ruffled his feathers, probably because he had injured his left wing a few years ago, making him far less agile in tight spaces.

Right on cue, the door to my private quarters burst open, and Liam barreled into the sitting room, the gangly nine-year-old closely followed by the last remaining member of my inner circle. Prim, proper, and pretty, Adasia strode in, her blond braid pulled over her shoulder and her long, lavender skirts swishing. Ada was deceptively dangerous, hiding her ferocity behind a ladylike veneer.

She had impressive combat skills, and as a Gauge, she could amplify or nullify the gifts of those around her. I kept her close to Liam to increase the strength of his empathy to a level befitting the son of two powerful Empaths—and to block any searching minds from sensing the other facet of my son’s Ability. The progeny of two pure Empath lines absolutely should not havealsobeen able to talk to animals in their mind.

If anyone outside my trusted inner circle knew Liam was also a Telepath, they would suspect my secret, and the truth would get back to Alastor. The second he realized Liam wasn’t his son, Alastor would throw Liam in the Tower of Solitude and use him to force me into officially handing over the kingdom to him as soon as Mother was gone. The Corvo Dynasty would be dead, destroyed by the mistakes I had made as a young, idealistic fool.

“I found it, Mom!” Liam exclaimed, skidding to a halt beside the table and placing a palm-sized stone on the polished oak surface. His auburn hair was wild and unruly, as usual.

The glossy face of the stone displayed a painted raven the size of my thumbnail. The stone had been hidden somewhere within the castle—by Garath this time. To Liam, it was a game that just so happened to force him to exercise his empathy, but the rest of us saw it for the potentially life-saving training it truly was.

Not only would strengthening his ability to delve into the minds of others protect him from potential threats, but the stronger his Empath gifts appeared, the more secure our secret. If we could increase his empathy until it overpowered his telepathybeforehis tenth birthday, he would qualify as an Empath during his testing. At least then,oneof my problems would be solved.

“Garath hid it really well, too,” Liam said. His green eyes shone like emeralds when he was excited, like he was now, and he turned his wide grin toward Garath. “Tell her. Tell her where you hid it.” Liam returned his attention to me. “You’ll never guess, Mom.”

I glanced at the smudge of white powder dusting his cheekbone and pursed my lips to suppress a smile.

“The flour canister in the kitchen,” Garath said, nodding slowly. He studied Liam under raised eyebrows.

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