Raven was beginning to become self-conscious.
They had been inside of Trimontium’s city walls for less than an hour. The city’s vast proportions were not the only notable aspect of Trimontium. For all of its people, and all of its business, the capital city of Kriver was the most orderly, most peaceful place in the known world. Everything seemed to run smoothly, from the perfect bread produced by its three bakeries to the almost disturbing lack of disagreement in the market place or social unrest at any of its multiple taverns. The people of Trimontium were polite and considerate, and Raven would have been quite charmed by the unanimous lack of desire for trouble, except for one tiny thing.
Trimontium’s inhabitants stared at her as though she were some sort of specter. It was the same every time; their eyes always skirted across her face to where her ears were hidden beneath masses of long, thick black hair, and then they would quickly look away to stare steadfastly at the ground.
By the time the three of them had finished their business at the bustling marketplace, Raven had been ogled by man, woman and child so many times, she simply could not stand it any longer.
“What is it, Loki? What is wrong with me?” She wondered if her Abaddonian heritage were showing through. Had she developed some sort of telling growth? “Has my hair caught on fire? Am I growing horns?” She stopped in her tracks and blanched. “Oh gods, please tell me I haven’t grown horns….”
Loki stopped walking and turned to face her, a confused expression on his face. “What?” he asked.
Raven felt irritated that he hadn’t even noticed, but couldn’t really blame him. She was just his sister, and Summer had been claiming a lot of his attention. “Loki, everyone in this city has been staring at me as if I had a pig growing out of my ear,” she explained softly. “Is there something on my face? Is it my clothes?”
Beside her, Summer sighed and shook her head. “No, it isn’t any of those things, Raven.” She frowned and added, “And, no, you haven’t grown horns. My word, why in the world would you suspect such a thing?” she asked.
Raven didn’t answer.
“Here. Come with me.” Summer glanced hastily in all directions, and then gently took Raven by the arm to guide her and her brother toward a deserted alleyway. Once they were there, she leaned in, much as her father had done earlier.
“I have never been there, so I would not know, but perhaps everyone in Aster Hollow looks as you do, Raven. Here, however, such beauty – if you don’t mind my drawing attention to it – is quite rare. In fact, in Trimontium, it is associated with only one group of… people.”
Raven and Loki were silent for a moment. And then Raven’s gaze narrowed. “Let me guess,” she said dryly. “The Lords and Ladies.”
Summer swallowed a seemingly large lump in her throat and glanced, once again, up and down the alley as if afraid they were not truly alone. Then she nodded. “I see my father spoke with you in my absence.”
Raven gave a nod. “Perhaps it’s time you told us a bit more about these Lords and Ladies. ‘Elves,’ I think your father called them.”
Summer’s eyes widened and she placed her forefinger to her lips. “Hush. Be careful what you say aloud. The Lords and Ladies have excellent hearing and they do not take kindly to insubordination.”
Raven’s look darkened further. So they’re those kinds of people, she thought. She considered Summer’s warning a moment more and then crossed her arms over her chest. “Do I look like them?” she asked, wondering if she might share some basic trait with them, such as black hair.
“No, actually, other than your beauty, you look nothing like them. Your ears are entirely normal. And your facial structure.… Well, it’s too human. The Lords and Ladies look… different. They’re exquisite, but in a peculiar sort of way.” Summer seemed to be mulling over Raven’s appearance as she spoke. Her eyes studied Raven’s features carefully.
Raven, for her part, was still fixed on something she had said about her ears. “What do you mean, my ears are normal?”
Summer blinked. “Oh. Well, the Fey have pointed ears. You don’t. It was the first thing I noticed about you when you walked out of the forest on our farm.” She paused then, and smiled shyly. “Actually, it was the second thing I noticed. I looked for pointed ears because of the first.”
Loki rolled his eyes.
“Well, that explains why everyone has been looking at my ears,” Raven muttered.
“All right, so she’s wonderful, she’s stunning, she’s beautiful, and so on and so forth,” Loki mumbled. “We’ve established that.” He straightened, obviously wanting to change the subject. “Now, tell us more about these elves.” He didn’t mean it to sound so brusque, however he realized by her slight frown that Summer was a bit taken aback by his curt tone. “Sorry,” he hurriedly made amends. “But we really should know, shouldn’t we? I mean, are they in charge of Trimontium? I haven’t seen any guards, come to think of it. Does Trimontium have a city watch? How is peace kept? There hasn’t been so much as a heated argument in this town all day.”
“I noticed the same,” Raven agreed.
Summer nodded. And then she shook her head. And then she sighed. “It is rather complicated. Are you two hungry? We can discuss it over lunch. I know of a wonderful hostelry, where the food is always fresh.” She lowered her voice pointedly. “And the atmosphere is private. We can speak safely there.”
Raven and Loki agreed, and the three of them left the shadows of the alley.
“Is Trimontium always this crowded?” Loki asked as they shuffled through another large group of people. The number of passers-by in the street had been increasing steadily throughout the day.
“As Kriver’s capital city, Trimontium holds many people,” Summer explained. “However, the Solstice is approaching. The Mid-Summer’s Festival brings countless revelers from neighboring cities and towns. They are setting up in Festival Square. I can take you there after lunch. The Festival is quite an occasion.” She smiled to herself. “It is my favorite, though I would never admit as much to my father. He doesn’t know I attend the festivities.”
They rounded a corner and were walking down another placidly busy street when the hair on the back of Raven’s neck stood on end. Instinctively, she searched the street ahead of her, and when she didn’t find what she was looking for, she turned to glance behind her.
There, she saw a smallish man dressed in expensive fineries that seemed off-kilter with his undersized stature, beady black eyes, and mouse-like features. He was staring at her as a gold miner would eye a sparkling vein. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. He did not move from where he stood in the center of the street, expression acquisitive.
“Um, Loki?”
Loki stopped and turned. He saw her staring and followed her gaze to the small man.
“Summer, who is that man?” he asked, his expression turning dark.
Summer turned around. She blanched. “Oh no.”
At that, the man took off at a run, his little legs carrying him much more quickly than would seem possible. They watched him disappear around a building.
“What just happened?” Raven asked, her insides inexplicably and quite suddenly turning to lead.
Summer shook her head, her gaze glued to where the man had vanished. “This can’t be good. That was Jax Narrium. He is a retired thief; a very rich, very selfish man. He is also the eyes and ears of the Lords and Ladies when they do not sojourn into the city.” She turned to Raven and her expression was regretful. “I am sorry Raven, but he has most likely run to tell them of your presence here. A woman of your appearance will almost certainly be taken as a royal courtesan.”
Raven’s jaw dropped open, her eyes wide. A host of emotions rushed through her at once. Indignation was high on the list. Fear was higher. Anger was probably at the top. “Like Hell!” she hissed.
Summer swallowed hard, blushing furiously. “I am afraid that the King and Prince have many. It is what my father fears, though he concerns himself without cause. The Lords would not choose one as plain as myself.”
“You are not plain, Summer,” Loki said. And then, as Summer met his gaze, he cleared his throat and nervously looked at the ground. Summer’s blush stayed put.
Raven crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze sliding from one of them to the other. “Unbelievable!” she exclaimed. She was all for her brother meeting someone he liked, but the situation was rather dire at the moment. “Can we not focus on the problem at hand?”
Loki had the decency to look somewhat chagrined.
Raven pinned Summer with a hard look. “What do we do now?” she asked. “How do I protect myself?”
Summer fidgeted and rubbed her palms against the material of her apron. “Well…” she bit her lip, staring nervously up the street. She ran a hand through her long blonde hair and proceeded in some unspoken, internal reasoning. Finally, she nodded. “All right.” She gestured for the Loki and Raven to follow her. “We need to get to our destination as quickly as possible. I doubt they would search for you at Marianne’s. It is not one of the more frequented taverns, as it doesn’t boast any of the dishes Trimontium is famous for.” She talked quickly as they walked. “I know the owner. We can ask to sit in the cellar.”
Raven moved at a fast pace alongside her, but she was very worried. “Why don’t we head back to your farm? We have done what we came to do. Shouldn’t we leave the city?”
Summer shook her head as she strode through the street. “The first thing they would do is post guards at the gates. The only time they do so is when they wish to either keep someone specific from entering the city or,” she glanced apologetically at Raven, “when they wish to keep someone specific from leaving it.”
Raven’s head spun. “Are you telling me I’m a prisoner in Trimontium?”
Summer didn’t answer. She shrugged helplessly.
Raven cursed under her breath. She didn’t like the idea of being a prisoner. She’d been there once before. She hated the sensation of helplessness. Thoughts of burning pyres came unbidden to her mind. Her stomach clenched. She thought of another man – any man – trying to force himself upon her and she could suddenly taste blood on her tongue. Her cheeks hurt with the recollection of how they’d been split open when Selby had attacked her. Her teeth suddenly felt loose again, her tongue swollen and dry. Memories of the pain hit her as hard as the blows themselves, and her head began to pound.
“Raven!”
Raven glanced at Loki. He had loudly whispered her name, getting her attention behind Summer’s back. Her brow furrowed. His expression was urgent.
“What?” she whispered back. And then she noticed it – the steam she expelled with every breath. Her eyes widened. The temperature was balmy, the climate mild. She was producing the cold vapor in her own fury and fear.
She drew in a shaky breath and tried to calm her nerves.
“Just take it easy. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Loki switched places to walk beside her. He took her gently by the arm and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You can control it. Just think of something else.”
Raven nodded silently, trying to concentrate on something besides her possible demise. In a few moments, her breath returned to normal, no one but she and Loki the wiser. Her brother nodded slowly, smiled sympathetically, and gave her a squeeze before releasing her.
“Here we are. Hurry,” Summer said as she held open the door of a small wooden structure crammed between two larger buildings. Its façade gave the appearance of having been built specifically to the dimensions of the inadequate spaces left behind by its neighbors. It appeared squished, but its cherry wood exterior looked new and well kept. Overhead, a small, brightly painted swinging sign declared “Marianne’s” to the world, and the three of them ducked inside.
Marianne’s interior was warm and inviting. In place of a winter’s fire, several candles flickered in the corner hearth, lending the establishment a cozy atmosphere. The smell of fresh baked bread mingled with the aroma of cinnamon in the air. The tavern was furnished with several round tables, at which sat numerous people who conversed quietly or ate delicious looking food.
Summer led them to an empty table at the back where they each took a seat. Before long, a lovely young woman with flaming red hair appeared beside them, her crisp white apron pulled tautly over an overtly voluptuous frame. She smiled warmly at them and introduced herself.
“Good afternoon! Summer, it sure is nice to see you out and about.” She turned to Raven and Loki. “I’m Marianne. What can I get for you three today?”
Raven instantly liked the woman. For one thing, she was outwardly friendly. But more importantly, she did not stare at Raven the way the rest of Trimontium seemed determined to do.
“Marianne, this may sound strange, but we were wondering whether we might dine… in the cellar today?”
Marianne blinked, indeed surprised by the request. “Well….” She stuttered a little. “As it happens, dear, the cellar is being re-bricked.” Her eyes were still a little wide. “But I must wonder, are you in some kind of trouble?”
Summer hurriedly shook her head and smiled a reassuring smile. “No, no. We’ve just been surrounded by the crowds all day and would have appreciated some quiet time. You know how I am.” She gave the woman a sheepish shrug.
“Oh, I’m so sorry then sweet heart,” Marianne said, her expression genuinely regretful. “It’s so very dusty down there, it’s sometimes difficult to breathe.”
Summer glanced at Raven and Loki and caught their nervous looks. Then she turned back to Marianne. “Marianne, we would like three of your mid-day dishes. I would have one for every meal if I could afford it.”
Marianne laughed. “Dear, you just come and help me in the kitchen sometime, and I’ll make you as much food as you can eat.”
“Deal,” Summer said immediately.
Marianne’s smile beamed. “It’s settled then. Three mid-day’s coming up.”
Under different circumstances, Raven would have requested her meal without meat. She had never eaten it; a part of her found the idea of ingesting beings that had once bleated or purred rather revolting. She knew she was the outsider in this preference, but Loki had always been kind enough to back up her decision by refusing to eat it as well. He would never know how much she appreciated that support.
However, at just that moment, Raven had more pressing matters on her mind than what sorts of foods would appear on her plate. Once Marianne disappeared into the kitchen, Raven leaned toward Summer and spoke in a hushed tone. “Are you certain this is a good idea?”
“I honestly know not what else to do,” Summer said rather helplessly. “Marianne’s is as safe a place as any in Trimontium, if not more so.” She shrugged and sighed. “As I said before, I doubt the Lords and Ladies will come here.”
After that, the three of them began to converse about Trimontium and Kriver in general. Eventually, they began talking about Aster Hollow, which Summer was either very interested in, or pretended to be interested in for the sake of impressing Loki.
The topic made Raven think of her parents. She wondered what they were doing at that moment. Were they all right? Safe? Had the town turned against them when their children had escaped? She was wondering these things and whether she would ever see them again when she gradually noticed that no one in the tavern was talking any longer.
She glanced up. Everyone was looking at her.
And then her brother nudged her gently. She glanced over at him. His expression was a complex mixture of wariness and trepidation. He gestured, with a very subtle nod of his head, toward the tavern doors.
She turned around to look.
There in the entryway stood five tall men. Four were dressed in decorated white, blue and gray leather armor, brilliantly embroidered insignias on their chests, swords at their hips, and bows strung across their backs. The fifth man stood slightly apart and ahead of the others. His strong physique was clothed in rich, royal garb, a midnight-blue cape draped from his broad shoulders. Long, shiny, silvery-blonde hair cascaded down his back, and he had the bluest eyes Raven had ever seen.
Those same eyes met and held Raven’s gaze, and she was instantly overwhelmed by the sensation of falling, topsy-turvy, into an endless sky or a bottomless ocean. He had to be, without a doubt, the most handsome man in the realm.
He watched her for a few moments more, the entire tavern echoing the silent tension between them. His gorgeous face was an unreadable mask, his expression inscrutable, save for some hint of an alien emotion in the quiet depth of his impossibly blue eyes.
After a minute or two, he smiled. It was a cruel smile; handsome but cold. Some kind of loud, harsh warning began to resound deep within Raven.
She ignored it. She was too lost in that crystal blue gaze.
The man moved into the room, his strides long and purposeful. Raven’s heart leapt up into her throat and she stopped breathing. The tall man reached their table and stood before her, peering down at her with abject interest.
“I was convinced that the thief had been exaggerating,” he began. His voice was mesmerizing, deep and perfect. “Clearly, I was mistaken. If anything, his acclamation of your beauty was an understatement.”
Raven had never felt so conspicuous. In fact, she felt a tad ridiculous; as if this were a fevered dream.
The blue-eyed man spoke to her as if she were the only one in the room. His words, his tone, his impossible eyes were for her alone. Her mouth opened as she struggled to say something, but when she could think of nothing to say, she closed it again and blinked. Then, with far too much effort, she managed to pull her gaze away from his and glance over at her brother.
The room instantly broke into very soft chatter. Loki’s worried expression did not help to ease Raven’s nerves. She looked over at Summer next, who was staring at her with a mixture of regret and wide-eyed astonishment. Raven’s brow furrowed. What was going on?
She turned her attention back to the stranger. The man’s confident and cruel smile had disappeared to be replaced by a look of genuine wonder. He quickly recovered however, and once again she was captured in his cobalt gaze. This time, she felt that she could not have looked away if she had wanted to, his gaze held such weight. She was glad to be sitting down; her legs had gone numb.
“I… I apologize. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” she said.
More soft chatter filled the corners of the room, setting Raven’s nerves on edge with confused irritation.
His smile was back, charming in the extreme. “I am Prince Astriel of the Lords and Ladies,” he said softly. “Might I ask for your name, my lady?”
Raven’s eyes widened. If she had been eating, she would have choked. This was the prince; the one Summer had cautioned them about! Well, of course it is, she told herself. Hadn’t he just mentioned a “thief?” He had been speaking of Jax Narrium!
Raven wanted to look at the prince’s ears, just to see whether or not they were pointed as Summer had said they would be. But she couldn’t seem to summon the will to break eye contact with the man.
It’s magic, she thought. He’s holding me fast with magic.
That warning inside of her returned full-force, and her body tensed in her chair. How had he found her so quickly? Summer had assured them that the Fey would not search Marianne’s. She had obviously been wrong. Something told Raven that she should not answer him – that she shouldn’t give him her name. Names held power.
But the pull of his powerful gaze insisted otherwise.
“My name is Raven,” she said. “This is my brother, Loki. We are new to Trimontium, otherwise we would have.…” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t know exactly what it was she had been about to say. She seemed to have little control over her running mouth at the moment.
The man chuckled low in his throat and goose-bumps raised across the flesh of Raven’s exposed arms.
“It is indeed a pleasure, Raven. If you are new to our city, then you must need a guide. Perhaps you would allow me to escort you on a tour?”
That prickle of danger that had been steadily growing in Raven’s gut suddenly came thrumming to the forefront, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat. Somehow, she simply knew that going anywhere for any reason with the prince of the elves was a very bad idea. But the full weight of his penetrating stare was beginning to make her dizzy.
She could sense the guards’ eyes on her as well, along with every patron in the tavern. It was too much. Her skin was crawling under the attention.
She tried to say “no.” But no sound came from between her lips. She frowned and realized she hadn’t spoken at all. She tried to blink and found that she couldn’t. The prince’s presence was intoxicating. She felt heavy, somewhat weak.
And then, as if she had been swimming in murky waters and someone had finally pulled her up for fresh, clean air, Raven realized that she wanted to say “yes.” What had she been thinking? How could she possibly be afraid of such a man? He would not harm her. She almost laughed aloud at the utter nonsense that had been her notion of refusing him. She smiled, and Astriel’s eyes took on a look of deep appreciation.
“Of course,” Raven said. “I would be honored if you would show me your city.”
The prince’s smile was triumphant. He offered her his gloved hand and she took it without hesitation. She stood to move with the prince toward his guards, who had been waiting just inside the doorway to Marianne’s establishment.
She didn’t see Loki’s mortified gape as he watched her join the prince. She didn’t see her brother push himself away from the table and stand.
“No!”
Raven stopped in her tracks, momentarily disoriented. Who was that? Who was yelling? He sounded familiar.
“Raven, he’s bewitched you! Let her go!”
The prince’s grip on her hand tightened slightly. She blinked, her brow furrowed. She turned around and the prince stepped before her, blocking her view. Then he himself turned to face whoever it was that had called out to her.
“She has made her decision,” he said. “Her well-being no longer concerns you.” Astriel’s tone was cool and calm, his inflection careful and precise. Something in the sound of his voice gave Raven a chill, and it raced up her spine, clearing her vision.
“Get away from her. I know you enchanted her. Raven would never do something so stupid unless under a spell.”
She could almost remember now – it danced on the edges of her recollection. A kind, gentle man with strawberry blonde hair. He was someone she loved dearly….
“Loki, please sit. Just let her go!” Another voice, vaguely familiar, whispered to Loki, begging him not to interfere.
“Listen to her, Loki. She is much wiser than her father believes.”
There was silence then, allowing a thick tension to fill the air. Raven’s brain tickled.
Suddenly, someone roared with rage, and the small tavern exploded into action around her. She was being pulled back, surrounded by the guards who had been behind her. Astriel was moving, speaking in quick low tones, a language she could not comprehend. He stood tall, his back to her, and waved his hands in some sort of complex apocryphal movement.
Raven stood on the tips of her toes and craned her neck. In front of the prince, Loki had grabbed a chair and was lunging at the elf, holding it high over his head, obviously intent on slamming it into the prince’s tall form.
Light exploded outward from Astriel’s open palms and slammed into Loki’s chest, knocking him back several feet. Loki landed, rolled once, and t hen lay unmoving in a heap on the floor.
At the sight of him, Raven remembered. Everything.
She screamed in fury, fear for her brother driving unnatural strength through her body. With a great surge of power, she pulled from the soldiers’ grasps, rushed forward, and raced to her brother’s side. The prince did not attempt to stop her as she brushed past him, her attention focused on her brother.
“What have you done?” she cried. “What did you do to him!” She rolled her brother’s body over so that he was lying on his back. There were no visible signs of damage anywhere on him, but his eyelids did not flutter; his chest did not rise or fall. Terror raced through Raven, pushing all rational thought from her mind like a giant wave of red water that crashed upon her sanity and smashed it to bits.
She slowly looked up at the prince, who was watching her very carefully, displeasure and frustration palpable on his coldly handsome face. Raven surrendered to the wrath building inside of her. She allowed its storm to surge through her limbs into her fingertips. She rose to her feet and her hands balled into fists at her sides. Her breath began to steam. The floor beneath her started to rime over, the ice crackling and popping as it traveled outward from under her boots. Her vision darkened and she could hear her blood roaring in her ears.
Her gums and fingertips ached, throbbing painfully. She lowered her head and leveled a cold gaze upon the elf prince, gritting her teeth. “Fix him. Do it now. Whatever you did, undo it,” she demanded, her tone low and laced with dark, solemn warning.
Astriel cocked his head to one side to slowly appraise her from head to toe. His gaze lingered on the ice coating the wooden planks of the tavern, and then he looked into her eyes once more. “Come with me, Raven. Do not force my hand again.”
“Fix him!” she shouted, and her voice began to change. It had become deeper, crisper, menacing. Its edges were laced with a grating growl, like ice scraping ice, like giant glaciers moving ever so slowly in distant lands.
Astriel’s look darkened. He took a step toward her, closing a bit of the distance between them. “He is not dead,” he told her. “He sleeps deeply.” His words were words of reason, but his tone was severe. “Now come with me. I’ll not tell you again.”
Somewhere deep inside, Raven was relieved that her brother was not harmed. But there was ice in her blood now, and her fury refused to die. Her vision went from dark to dark red, and she felt a renewed, sharper stab of pain in her fingertips. The sensation managed to draw her attention away from the prince long enough for her to glance down. Her nails were lengthening, their tips turning gray and shiny, like cold polished iron, horribly sharp and deadly.
They stretched and elongated until they had become six-inch blades that extended from each finger. She blinked wide eyes, surprise momentarily catching her off-guard.
The prince chose that moment to strike. He rushed her, fast as lightning, and wrapped his fingers around her wrists. She jerked with the sudden contact, her body bucking as his fey power poured over her in an attempt to force her compliance.
However, his overt attack had the opposite effect on her. Instead of succumbing obediently to the magic blanketing her form, her will beat against the onslaught, her vehemence rising to the challenge as more unnatural strength flooded her lithe frame until she was shaking with it. In one swift, fluid movement, she wrenched free of his grasp, pulled her right hand back, and swiped it across his chest, drawing deep furrows into his shirt and chest. He hissed in pain and drew away from her.
She watched him just long enough to notice that the liquid pouring from his wounds was clear, not red, and then she dropped beside her brother, covered him with her body, and called out with every fiber of her being. “Father!”
In the next instant, the air shimmered around them. She gripped Loki’s unconscious form tightly, shutting her eyes against the vertigo that came with the shift in time and space. There was a tugging sensation, a starry sparkling beneath her eye lids, and then all movement ceased.
The air had cooled significantly. Sound had faded into hollow silence, and all she could hear was her own ragged breathing. There was stillness.
And a presence.
She could feel it, him, there before her waiting patiently. Raven moaned deep in her throat and faced the inevitable. Slowly, she opened her eyes.