Page 36 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens (The Crimson Duet #1)

Emerald

T he knock on the door pulled me out of the sweet dream—a dream that made me blush—yet I refused to let my eyes open.

The woolen blankets fondled my bare skin, the winter storm whistled through the ceiling, calming my mind. A slow smile tugged on my lips.

“Cordelia—” The door creaked open.

“Go away, Florence,” Francis rasped. My eyes flew open.

“Oh—” she mumbled, shutting the door.

I faced Francis, confirming I was indeed awake. His dark curls splayed out on the pillow as a small smile tugged on his lips.

My eyes traveled down his body: a white tunic hung on his shoulders, drops of crimson painted the fabric. My dried blood colored his lips.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Francis chuckled as he sat up on the bed. The sheet slid down his chest, revealing his torso.

“Moon save me.'' I rolled onto my back as the memories of last night rushed through my mind.

“I am afraid there is no salvation from me, Your Highness,” Francis winked. “Would you—” His eyes narrowed. “Should I take my leave?”

“No!” I said a little too fast. “I mean, no, it’s all right.”

“All right then.” A slow grin spread across Francis’ face as he got comfortable between my sheets.

His hands slowly wrapped around my waist, guiding me into a hug.

My back was against his chest when he squeezed me so tight that it made me laugh.

“So my Princess does know how to laugh, huh?” His breath tickled my ear before he planted a kiss on my temple.

Despite my best attempts at hiding the smile, it found its way onto my face when Francis kissed the corner of my lips.

His fingers traced along my neck, making their way down to my scar. They paused, feeling the rough skin. “Silver blade,” Francis said as a matter of fact, studying the injury.

“He tried to cut my gown that night.” The words escaped me for the first time. “He isn’t very good with knives.” I laughed, though my laughter fell short when Francis’ hands tensed around me. “Sorry.” I faced him. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No.” Francis palmed my cheek, kissing the tip of my nose. “Don’t apologize for that. If you ever want to talk about it,” he met my gaze, “I will be right here.”

I managed a weak nod in reply.

A corner of Francis’ lips slightly rose. “Cannot wait to dry him empty.” His gaze darkened.

“You will not.” I shook my head, hating the words—I wished Timothy nothing but a long, painful death, but too much was at risk. “You can’t kill him,” I sounded like Mother.

“Is that so?” Francis chuckled, his brows flew up.

“I am being serious,” my voice dropped a few octaves. “You can’t. We need his father’s support.” My brows furrowed. “It will ruin everything—”

“All right, all right.” His kiss stopped me from saying anything else.

Hours later Francis had left me to the privacy of my room. A foolish smile could not leave my face as I studied myself in the mirror. Shadows of his lips covered my skin; freshly healed bites bruised my flesh.

The bath grew red when I washed myself, forcing the flowers to bloom. My skin smelled like jasmine as I closed my eyes for his touches echoed down my body. I brushed through my raven hair, and for the first time in—what seemed to be—forever, I left it down.

The quiet castle welcomed me into its embrace as I made my way down the stairs into the common room. My steps bounced off the walls, echoing through the corridors.

“Where is everyone?” I made my way through the room towards Florence who sat on a cushion before the fire.

She peeked out from her book, smiling at me. “Francis went to the human village just beyond Faris. We are running low on blood; it seems we must host a ball next week.” Florence offered me her untouched glass of crimson.

“Thank you.” I took the glass, taking a seat beside her. The liquid reminded me of Francis’ mouth on my neck, my cheeks flushed. “How are you feeling?” I pointed at Florence’s stomach, ignoring my aflame body. “Can I bring you anything?”

“No, Cordelia.” She caught my hand when I tried to get up.

“Please don’t coddle me,” Florence smiled.

“I get enough of that from Roxanne. And I am feeling well,” she nodded, her lips turned into a thin line.

“Actually, I was wondering if you would go down to Faris with me to spread the word about the ball.”

“Of course,” I said, taking the first sip of my drink.

“We’ll leave in an hour then.” She offered me a smile that did not reach her eyes as she went back to her book.

My hand rested on the hilt of the sword at my waist as we stood inside of Simon’s tavern. The other brushed over the dagger Francis had left me earlier as he promised he would.

Florence was awfully quiet the whole trip to Faris. Every time she’d caught my worrisome gaze she had gifted me with a small smile as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Listen up, everyone!” Simon banged against the table; every head in the tavern turned his direction. “There will be a ball at the Bloodlake Castle—” He turned to Florence, asking, “When?”

“Same time next week,” Florence said loudly for the whole tavern to hear.

Everyone cheered as we walked out of the establishment. “Bloodlake Castle?” I asked.

Florence nodded, turning onto the main street of Faris. “There is a legend that when our castle was built, the owner, who was sent there as a punishment, vowed to kill everyone who had wronged him: he vowed to fill the nearby lake with their blood.”

“Who was the owner?” I asked, following Florence down the cobblestone road.

The streets of Faris were still destroyed: most of the buildings missed their windows. Yet it did not stop the shops from welcoming guests, nor did it stop the musicians from playing down the street.

“No one knows,” Florence shrugged. “Some say the owner died a long time ago, some believe he is still among us.”

An old woman sent me a curt nod when our gazes met. She sat behind the counter overflowed with jewelry—I had no doubt—she crafted herself. Her wrinkled hands gestured for me to take a look.

“A woman like you must know the value of a powerful amulet,” she murmured when I studied the emerald stone she offered me.

It shone in my hands no matter the darkness of the night; its sharp edges dug into my palm. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered, handing it back to her.

“Keep it,” the woman’s voice lowered as her hands wrapped around my own, squeezing them until they hurt. “You’ll need its protection.”

Goosebumps traveled down my body at her touch. The hair on my neck rose from the urgency in her voice. “I have nothing to exchange,” I smiled, trying to free myself of her embrace.

“No need.” A smile made it onto her face, her blue as the ocean eyes saddened.

“Don’t let the sorrow stop you from what fate has in store for you.

” She turned me around. “No matter the pain you must endure, you shall finish what was not started by you.” Her fingers tightened the ends of the string at the back of my neck; a shiver went through me at her cold touch, or perhaps it was her riddle that chilled my bones. “You are our salvation.”

“What does that mean?” My brows furrowed when I turned back at her, yet she had already disappeared behind the wooden door that led to the depths of her shop. My fingers touched the emerald on my chest, trying to make any sense of this interaction.

I shook my head as I turned back towards Florence.

She stood in the middle of the road; her empty eyes glared into the distance. I traced her gaze: a big rainbow castle now was covered in shadows, children's laughter was replaced by the croaking of ravens that sat atop its roof.

A silent tear fell down Florence’s cheek when my hands wrapped around her shoulders.

Slowly, she returned the gesture. Her hands held onto me as a drowning person would to a straw.

We did not speak, just held onto this embrace for a while, right in the middle of the street.

I didn’t notice them at first—didn’t notice the screams until Florence broke our hug, her eyes widened.

Chaos fell upon Faris as everyone flew in one direction. “You should go home, Cordelia.” Florence took a slow step towards the crowd.

“What?” I followed after her. “What is going on?”

“Go back.” She met my gaze before breaking into a run.

“Where are you going?” I rushed after her. “What is going on?”

Florence’s lips turned into a thin line when she stopped before our horses. “To the human village.” She untightened the reins off the tree. “The children have attacked the humans.”