Page 76 of Lana Pecherczyk

Chapter

Twenty-Four

River’s sisters half-flew, half-dragged Blake toward a twisted spiral staircase winding up the largest tree in the Umbria roost. It was all she could do to hold onto the vase.

A shadow landed silently by the campfire as they passed. Ash. Their eyes met briefly before Sera tugged Blake’s attention skyward.

“Princeling—help!” River shouted from where their mother continued to fuss, but Ash merely chuckled and settled onto a cushion, black wings fanning behind him like a cloak.

“He needs some loving, doesn’t he?” Sera murmured, climbing up worn wooden steps.

“Who, Ash?”

“Who else?” She glanced down at Blake’s mating marks. “But you should know, a third wheel in a Well-blessed bond will only be hurtful to the one who’s not blessed.”

Heat flushed Blake’s cheeks. “There is no party of three. I was just teasing River.”

Sera’s disbelieving hum rippled through the air.

They reached a high landing with a singular round room. Blake glanced down—no rails. At least two stories high. She should be afraid of falling, but oddly, wasn’t.

“Let’s see about making you look like a proper crow!” Lark pushed open a carved door inlaid with blue-tinted glass. “That ought to straighten out the confusion.”

“Welcome to the crow’s nest,” Sera said, smirking as she tucked her wings and followed her sister.

Blake stepped inside and froze. “This is River’s old bedroom?”

The sight stole her breath. Trinkets and knick-knacks were displayed with pride on shelves. His bed was wide, perhaps to accommodate the growing wings of a crow boy. The unmistakable musky scent of wood and sky she associated with River was everywhere, surrounding her as though he stood beside her.

Crystal feathers, carved charms, and polished river stones dangled from the ceiling, catching the golden sunset filtering through the windows. A cracked and worn porcelain stein looked well-used and treasured.

The circular chamber’s inner walls bore hand-painted murals. One depicted three winged males with spectacular muscles facing down a giant black dog with glowing blue eyes. Except for the exaggerated musculature, the artistic talent was so realistic, she almost believed the figures would pop out and start flying.

“River painted these?” she asked, unable to hide her amazement.

“Every last one,” Lark confirmed, diving into a cedar chest. “Said it helped him remember the important things.”

Blake instinctively reached for her phone to capture everything, but her fingers passed through air. A hollow pangechoed through her chest. No phone. No followers. No way to share this discovery.

“What was that you just reached for?” Sera asked, eyes sparkling with sudden interest.

Blake sighed. “Me phone. It’s a device from my world. I used it to capture images.”

“Images?” Lark perked up. “Like River’s paintings?”

“Sort of, except instant and perfect. No brushes needed.”

The preserved room brought a sharp pang of homesickness. Her father had kept her childhood room exactly as she’d left it when she married, complete with her mother’s old makeup brushes on the vanity. Unlike Jeff’s sleek, cold minimalism that scrubbed away all traces of her personality from their home, her dad and brothers preserved her chaotic space like a shrine.

She’d been allowed to mess up one room in the house, and turned a spare room she’d hoped to turn into a nursery one day into a workshop studio. Frowning, she realized this was yet another obvious clue that her marriage wasn’t a partnership. Each time she added another to her list, she felt her insides shrink. Why did she put up with that for so long?

“You okay?” Lark’s wings folded slightly.

“Just reminds me of home. I miss my family.”

“Families are everything,” Sera agreed, squeezing her shoulder.

Ravi entered carrying a basin filled with sparkling water. She set it down on a bookshelf beside paintbrushes and ceramic pots of shimmering paste in vibrant colors.