Page 68 of Faeling (Monstrous World #4)
She was but a leech, clinging to him as if she could imbibe some of his easy confidence for herself. He knew his place in the world, and if she was attached to him, belonged to him, then she would have a place in the world, too.
She hadn’t meant for that place to be his downfall.
I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I’m sorry…
Crow? What’s happened? Are you—
It’s my fault.
Ravenna refused to move from the floor. She couldn’t.
She was aware of a handful of others coming and going.
Fenna the healer came to look at her arm. Ravenna was distantly aware of the pain as Fenna dabbed at and cleaned the punctures from Amaranthe’s claws.
She almost told the old orcess to leave them. She deserved the wounds. But her voice was gone.
Fenna would hardly look at her, although she felt the occasional press of the healer’s assessing gaze. Fenna asked her a few things, but Ravenna said nothing.
Night soon descended across the camp. Ravenna only knew because of the smell of the fires. Someone put a bowl of stew in front of her, but she didn’t eat.
Sometime in the night, Oberon ducked inside the tent.
His great body was awkward in the space, navigating the tent poles and low canvas ceiling. Folding his legs, he lay beside her, curling his neck around her back.
Crow, speak to me.
It’s my fault. I’m sorry.
It’s all right. We’ll be all right.
No. It’s my fault.
Mistakes are best learned from and then left in the past. We’ll get your man back.
She has him. It’s my fault.
Oberon’s warm breath wafted across her cheek, followed by his velveteen muzzle. We’ll get him back, Crow.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Ravenna didn’t move. Her tears didn’t stop.
She remained there, on the floor, clutching desperately at the threadbare bond inside her. She dared not grasp it too tightly for fear it would break, but so long as it lived, so too did Vallek.
It was her only hope, her only focus.
If he was alive, then she could make this right.
She’d let herself believe in his confidence and his vision for their future. She’d let herself be carried away by romantic gestures and delusions of happiness.
She’d let herself forget that, since childhood, she was marked for death. There was no other outcome for one who predicted the downfall of a Fae Queen. All who’d tried to stop it, to thwart her fate, had met horrible ends.
It was time Ravenna stop letting them try to save her. It was time she accept that her destiny was written in magic and blood. It couldn’t be denied.
She was destined to die, and she meant to take Amaranthe with her.
Dawn approached before Ravenna regained any feeling in her body. Her tears left salty tracks on her face, and her limbs had long since gone numb with inactivity.
Something happened outside the tent, but she couldn’t be bothered to care.
Not until Oberon began nudging her. Ravenna? Ravenna, you must come back. They need you.
No one needs me.
Oberon nickered. Enough of that. Come back to us.
She didn’t want to. There was relief in her numbness, a cold comfort that she could wallow in until the time came. Returning meant pain.
When she still didn’t move, Oberon nudged harder.
She stiffly slumped forward, unable to catch herself. Ravenna groaned, finally finding enough will to get her hands beneath her. Pushing up to hands and knees, she slowly regained her feet with Oberon’s help.
That’s it. Slowly now.
Pinpricks of reality assailed her limbs, and Ravenna grimaced under the onslaught.
You’re no use to anyone, most of all your mate, like this. Buck up and find your courage, Crow.
She wanted to snap something smart back, but her mind was too muzzy for that.
Ravenna blinked, refocusing her vision in time to see Mattias reenter the tent.
He must have gone somewhere, for he returned with mist clinging to his shoulders.
He could only look upon Ravenna for a moment, his expression carefully neutral as he turned to Asta to say, “A messenger has been spotted. They’re coming ashore now. ”
“Best get to them before the warriors do.” Asta glanced at Ravenna. “Stay here.”
“No.” It took a few steps, but Ravenna pushed herself forward. “I will hear what they have to say.”
Asta obviously didn’t like it, her lips pressed into a line between her tusks.
“Stay behind us,” said Mattias.
Ravenna agreed, and with Oberon behind her, she followed Asta and Mattias from the tent.
The camp outside was somber, the fires banked low. Dozens of eyes fixed on her as she emerged into the weak dawn light. Unable to meet any of them, Ravenna kept her gaze on Mattias’s back, following him and Asta down the slope to the sandy bank.
A handful of warriors already stood there, surrounding a solitary boat. The front half of the vessel had come ashore, but the back half still bobbed in the water. In the middle stood a fae warrior, his long blonde hair pulled back into a tail.
His severe gaze fell on Asta and Mattias as they approached, although his brows lifted to see a unicorn behind them.
A strange smile touched his lips, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “So it’s true.”
“Your seizure of our king is an outrage,” said Mattias. “We came to parley in peace.”
“I think the time for lies is over,” replied the fae cooly. “It was your king who lured our queen here. It was he who had an assassin lying in wait.”
That couldn’t be denied, and so no one did.
The fae nodded. “My queen can be magnanimous. She’s willing to overlook this insult and restore your king to you. Produce the one your king spoke of and we’ll accept her life for his.”
Asta and Mattias exchanged looks.
Ravenna’s heart sank to her stomach. It could be that simple. Trade Leita for Vallek.
Amaranthe must not have known who Ravenna was. The Fae Queen had never seen Ravenna herself, and Maxim ensured few did, hiding her and Aine away behind anonymity, isolation, and decades of wards. Or if she did recognize Ravenna, the potential of securing her own niece was more important.
Leita for Vallek. Simple.
And yet, she couldn’t do it.
This wasn’t Vallek’s fight. It wasn’t Leita’s either.
This began and ended with Ravenna. It was time she stopped allowing others to suffer for her own vengeance—and mistakes.
Stepping out from behind Asta and Mattias, Ravenna revealed herself to the fae messenger. Asta hissed, trying to grab for her, but Ravenna eluded her grasp, approaching the boat.
At the shoreline, she looked into the fae’s eyes and declared, “We have no such person. But your queen will take me instead.”
The fae looked her up and down, suspicion gathering in his expression. “The assassin herself, come to make terms?”
“I’m the one your queen wants. The criminal she’s been looking for.”
If it was possible, the fae went even paler. “You—”
“My name is Ravenna Illyinia, and I have foreseen Amaranthe’s death.”