Page 63 of Lana Pecherczyk

Talo’s pitying look made River’s face pale. “Son, you’ve missed a lot.”

“We’re continuing this conversation when I return.”

“Fine,” Talo said, then launched upward with a powerful snap of wings, scattering leaves in his wake.

River growled beneath his breath. “Don’t say another word.”

“About what?” Blake threw up her hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She collected her belongings with sharp, annoyed movements. River prowled through the underbrush, gathering his own things, jaw clenched against whatever secrets lay between him and his family.

When she located Trix’s gift, she froze mid-reach. The ancient vase sat perfectly intact. Some dirt had spilled, but the baby eucalyptus still nestled in its pot, leaves trembling in the breeze.

But she’d seen it shatter against the exposed roots. Hadn’t she?

“Blake,” River called. “You coming?”

She nodded, shoving dirt back into the vase before carefully lifting it. Later. She’d figure it out later.

River’s family thought she was in a threesome with their son and his friend. She had enough to worry about.

Chapter

Twenty

CIRCA 200 YEARS AGO

The Collector’s hoard was a mountain of treasure piled atop a canyon spire, hidden by mist and a magic deterrent that both Cielo and Manfri had failed to heed. The cloudy abyss below the spire seemed bigger before. But it might have something to do with the almighty squawks of rage rattling the rocky foundations, spilling jewels over the edge like falling stars against the sunset.

“Fly!” Nikan bellowed, shoving his new friends away.

Cielo deftly caught his footing, but Manfri stumbled backward, tripping over something hard. His wings flared for balance but only succeeded in knocking over more treasure. Behind Nikan, the silhouette of a winged beast emerged from the tunnel.

The Collector walked through a beam of burnt sunlight, and Manfri gasped. Stuck somewhere between crow and human, her black feathered wings ended in taloned hands. Short, downy hair ruffled like a living crown. Stubby feathers sprouted from her cheekbones and grew in length down her neck and shoulders like a graceful capelet. She should have been frightening with that bird-like face, but her silken dress,sharp features, feminine curves, and clinking adornments made her look more like a vicious queen than a monster.

This was her territory … and they were the marauders.

Her beady eyes moved with preternatural speed to assess the situation. Her son had escaped his restraints, and two armed intruders were looting her treasure. Betrayal flashed in her eyes, and she opened a mouth full of stained teeth and let loose another caw of indignation.

“Mother…” Nikan started, holding his palms out warily. “Let me explain.”

“My blood betrays me?” She advanced on her son, her jeweled talons clicking with menace.

Manfri wasn’t sure how Cielo managed to function, but he stepped between Nikan and the Collector with his dagger pointed at her beady eye.

“He’s half-starved and chained while his mother slept,” Cielo accused. “If anyone’s betrayed, it’s him. You don’t deserve to have a son.”

Cielo spat at her feet in disgust.

“Fool,” she screeched. “You are nothing but a hatchling. I will gut you and feed him your entrails.”

“Mother—”

“Silence.” She pointed a gem-encrusted talon at Nikan. “I will deal with your insolence next.”

He was silenced but not cowed. Manfri liked that his spirit was still alive. But it infuriated him that Nikan had reached this level of neglect. Cielo was right. This creature did not deserve her son’s loyalty. Nikan’s appearance meant he could pass as a human if his wings were shifted away. The Collector couldn’t. Maybe she was jealous of her son, and instead of nurturing him, she chained him.

It probably wasn’t Cielo and Manfri’s place to interfere in a family dynamic they knew little about. Crows handleddiscipline and managed their nests as they saw fit. But it was also a strict rule to treat each member of the kettle as equal. Everyone contributed in some way, and everyone benefited from it. Sure, societal rank varied for kettles within the larger murder, but loyalty within the immediate family unit was prioritized above all else. The Collector didn’t understand this because if she did, Nikan would have been just as gloriously dressed and fed as she was.