I turned, rushing back into the room, and slammed the door behind me. Then I jammed my fingers into the back of my throat. I’d never done this before, and it was bloody harder than I’d imagined. I gagged for ages, until at last the wine I’d just chugged came rushing up again, splattering all over the floor.
The guards opened the door to find me standing over a pile of wine-vomit, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth.
Disgusting.
The guards stepped out of the room, visibly repelled by me.
But the real danger wasn’t over.
Because of what I learned tonight, I realized I could be murdered at any moment—just like the servants.
22
Samael
I could have sworn I felt her there, just on the other side of the wall. Her presence had a strange magnetic pull to me that I couldn’t explain, like a black hole pulling me into her orbit.
The two guards had been discovered unconscious outside her room. And when her quarters were searched, she was gone. She’d only been here one day, and already the entire palace was in chaos.
I loathed chaos.
I paced the floor, my thoughts roiling like storm clouds. My room occupied one corner of an enormous library, partially walled off. Normally, it was my refuge—the bed and hearth, the books stacked around me. My teakettle. But tonight, chaos reigned in my mind.
Once, I’d commanded an army of angels. Asmodai had gleamed with the blood of my demon enemies, or the cruelest men.
And now a little mortal had turned my world upside down in a matter of hours. It would be hard to justify to the soldiers why she was here in the first place. Only Sourial valued my dreams.
When I closed my eyes, I felt like I was plummeting, disoriented. That ancient memory roared in my mind—the fall from the heavens, wind whipping over me. Wings that would no longer carry me, and that gnawing emptiness that ate at the inside of my chest, confusion. I smelled the scent of burning bodies, heard the screams, her voice screaming for me.
My eyes snapped open. If I slept, maybe the dreams would guide me again, but I feared only nightmares awaited me.
Had Zahra been playing me this entire time? She was lying about something. But the worst thing about her was that for some reason, her image had invaded my mind, like poison ivy growing inside the walls of my skull.
For a moment, I thought of her bent over my desk, the hem of her skirt lifted… My heart started racing.
Why? I was never interested in mortal women. Once, I’d felt something like love. But the woman was not remotely mortal. No, she’d been a creature of darkness and chaos. And what I’d felt for her had been something like madness.
I’d learned my lesson then. Death was my companion.
I crossed to the copper tub and filled it with hot water, then peeled off my clothes. I sank into it, and steam coiled off my overheated body.
Tomorrow, whether or not Zahra was joining me, I would spy on the Free Men.
“Samael?” Sourial’s voice echoed out from the other end of the hall.
“In the bath.” I called out.
“They found her drunk in her room,” he shouted. “It seems they missed her in their search. She stank of wine.”
At that I felt my chest unclenching. Good.
I heard the door close again, and I slipped deeper into the water, one last dip under the steaming surface. Then I rose from the bath, and dried myself off.
But even if Zahra was found, my mind still wouldn’t rest. Perhaps a visit to the aviary was in order, then. I pulled on my cloak, and lifted the hood over my head. I started the long march through the castle.
When we’d arrived in Dovren, slaughtered the king and locked the royals in the dungeons, we found six captive ravens here. Now, they were one of the few things that brought me a sense of peace.
Albians viewed the ravens as symbols of their country. Many other mortals saw them as omens of death. Winged and forbidding, people thought of them as cold, stark, loveless. Creatures of shadow and darkness, harbingers of doom.
But I understood their hearts.
They needed the company of others. They craved warmth, companionship. They yearned for closeness, nestled up close to each other in their cages at night. In their quiet moments, they cooed and soothed each other. I felt fiercely protective of them.
Their wings had been clipped when I found them—a practice I abhorred. Like me, I thought they must dream of their true purpose—one long since lost to them. They must dream of soaring through the heavens, the wind whipping against their feathers.
I’d created their very own courtyard for them—the court of ravens. They sunned themselves on the grass, and spoke to each other in a language of clicks. I’d tried to learn it, calling them to me with the same sounds. Ravenish, I called it. I was still learning it, getting better day by day. When I was High King, I’d have a whole castle of ravens, but I’d let them fly free as they wanted.
I stalked through the halls, pausing for a moment at Zahra’s door. I pressed my ear against it, listening for sounds of her moving around.
I heard only silence.
I kept moving, thinking of my six feathered companions. I’d had no idea what the birds’ names were when I killed the king, so I’d come up with my own—Eden, Soolam, Za'am, Esh, Nahash, Aryeh.
Before she fell asleep, Aryeh liked to perch on my shoulder and squawk her Ravenish language in my ear.
The ravens—and Sourial—were all the companionship I needed. And that meant I must put all thoughts of Zahra out of my mind. Otherwise, I was at risk of losing control again, of letting my true face emerge. And then, who knew what might happen?
23
Lila
It must be nearly dawn, but there was still no way I could sleep. The storm still raged outside, rain punishing the glass. My mind simmered with panic. Somewhere in this castle lurked the man who’d probably slaughtered my sister.
Dressed in nothing but a thin, white nightgown, I crossed to the window once more. I unlatched it and leaned my head out into the rain.
Quietly, I started cooing for the crow, making the clucking noises—just like Finn had taught me. I waited until I heard a quiet squawk coming, then the fluttering of wings. I held out my hands as I watched Ludd soaring closer through the rain. He landed on my wrist, and I pulled another tiny note from his feet. As soon as he flew away, I closed the window.
When I unrolled this message, it seemed even worse than the last one. This picture showed a series of women with their throats cut. He’d used black pen for contouring and shading, but then added bright red for blood. The raindrops on the note had added an unintentional effect of blood running and pooling all over the page.
Above the massacred women, he’d drawn beautifully rendered angel wings, and a crown above the wings. An angel was massacring women in Dovren. An angel had killed the servants—an angel with a crown. Samael, the usurper king.
And on the back, I found another picture. It was a beautifully rendered portrait of me—driving a sword through another pair of angel wings. This time, the crown lay on the ground in a pool of blood.
I inspected the letter and found Finn's signature raven on the bottom. With a lump in my throat, I crushed the macabre drawing in my fist. The message was clear. Samael had murdered the servants, and I was supposed to exact revenge on him.