Page 39 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens (The Crimson Duet #1)

Royals Are No Help

C harlotte’s even breathing echoed through the room as she laid upon my bed. She’d refused to sleep anywhere else when we’d gotten back a few hours ago. Her face was still red from all the tears she’d spilled tonight.

Silver curled up against her shoulder as though protecting her sleep from nightmares.

My swollen wrist wailed in pain as I fixed the blanket around her small body. Every slight movement burned, filling my veins with agony. I certainly had a fever.

“Guard her,” I whispered to the cat, silently closing the door to my room behind me.

I rushed down to the common room, my heartbeat quickened when I entered and didn’t see his face.

“Is Francis back yet?” My voice cracked when I met Roxanne’s and Florence’s gazes. Nausea spun my head as my fingers slowly lost sensation.

“He just got back,” Roxanne answered. “He couldn’t find Caleb,” she whispered. “Charlotte?”

My heart squeezed tight. Caleb had saved me and it might have cost him his life.

“She has finally fallen asleep.” I closed my eyes as a new wave of pain swept over me.

“How many men were there?” Florence walked towards me. “Oh, dear Gods, Cordelia, your hand—”

“There were two,” I croaked, cringing as I tried to move my fingers. I drew a deep breath as my wrist caught aflame.

“We need to treat your hand.” Florence caught my shoulders when I wobbled to the side.

“Is it broken?” Roxanne frowned as they both walked me down the hall into—what appeared to be—some sort of study.

Every shelf in the room overflowed with dozens of vials and differently colored glass bottles of medicine.

“What happened?” Roxanne took a good look at my wrist before rushing towards the shelves.

“I am so sorry, Cordelia,” Florence muttered, sitting me down on the chair when Roxanne searched for something in the drawers. “If I didn’t insist on going—”

My head spun from the pain with every breath I took. “I’m all right.” I shook my head which only made me dizzier. “The man stepped on my wrist when he realized I cut him with Royal steel,” I mumbled.

“Take this,” Roxanne gave me several berries I recognized as the vasyalisk berries. The healers in the palace used them to numb pain before an operation.

I put them in my mouth, my eyes watered as the bitter taste pierced my tongue.

“One of them still got my sword,” I suddenly realized. “He fought Caleb with it.” My stomach turned at the idea of Caleb being injured by Royal steel.

“I got her.” Francis walked into the study. His black cloak was covered in blood. “We must straighten the bone before it starts to heal, Princess.” He crouched before me as he doubled in my vision.

“All right,” I whispered, leaning back in the chair. My eyes closed.

Florence got a hold of my other hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m sorry, Cordelia.” Her thumb rubbed against my skin.

Before I could reassure her it was not her fault, Francis’ fingers brushed over my injured flesh. Dozens of needles pierced my skin under his touch—

“It’s going to hurt,” he said and before I was able to process the meaning of his words, his hands wrapped around my wrist as he pulled on it.

A cry escaped me when the bone popped against Francis’ cold touch. My teeth punctured the inside of my cheek when Francis squeezed my wrist, pushing the bone back into its place.

Another cry pushed through my lips as the cold sweat broke through my skin despite the numbness of the berries. My lungs expanded taking in all the air they could fit; blood spilled in my mouth.

“That’s it.” Francis wrapped the tight fabric around my wrist as my head spun. “It will be perfectly fine by tomorrow.” he said, tying the ends of the bandage.

Florence’s hand wrapped around my shoulders when my mind threatened to pull me under.

“Caleb saved my life,” I managed to say in between my rapid breaths.

“He is alive.” Francis put a wet cloth onto my forehead that immediately made the pain more bearable. “If he was of no use to them, I would have at least found a dead body.” He sat on the chair across from mine. “They captured him.”

“What do we do now?” Roxanne asked, pouring the crimson liquid into a goblet.

“Get me a meeting with the Queen,” my weak voice exclaimed.

The room quieted; three pairs of glowing eyes stared at me as though I had lost my mind.

“Get me a meeting with the Queen,” I put all of my remaining energy into sounding confident.

“We tried several months ago; the royal council denied every letter,” Roxanne replied. “She does not want to meet us.”

“She will talk to me,” I argued, as Florence changed the cloth on my forehead. The cold calmed my flaming skin, easing the pain that now traveled up my shoulder.

“It’s dangerous,” Francis chimed in, his hands fell onto my knees. “What if they harm you? What if she orders them to kill you?”

“Then make sure they don’t.” I met his gaze before facing Roxanne once again. “I will write a letter to her. Will you send it?”

Roxanne’s eyes jumped between me and Francis before she finally replied, “Sure.”

“Cordelia—” Francis sighed; a sad smile made it onto his face.

“It’s the only way to actually do something and you know it,” I interrupted him, blinking the fog out of my vision.

“Perhaps you could meet on neutral territory,” Florence suggested. “She won’t be able to bring a whole army with her.”

“There is a hunting lodge near the palace,” I nodded. “I could suggest that location in the letter.”

“This is madness.” Francis shook his head as he jumped to his feet. “Royals are no help.” He faced Roxanne. “We stay away from them, remember?”

My eyebrows shot up.

“That’s not what I meant—” Francis shook his head, looking at me as regret filled his eyes.

“Who did you meet in the Royal garden during the Crimson War celebration?” I argued, remembering the events from months ago. “Wasn’t it one of the Queen’s councils?”

Francis’ lips turned into a thin line. “They denied us, Cordelia. That is exactly why we stay away from them from now on—before they get a chance to spread the word filled with lies about what we are trying to do.”

“This is different,” I persisted, getting up from the chair. My feet swayed to the side as Francis caught me by my waist. “The Queen will want to hear my judgment.” I stared into amber eyes.

“Aye, because she took you seriously before?” Francis’ voice was ice cold. “Or perhaps because she would hear your cries and still do as she pleases.”

As if a dull dagger found its place in my chest, I staggered backwards: though not from the pain in my wrist this time. My mouth fell open before the mask of indifference made it onto my face.

“I am sorry,” Francis closed his eyes. “I did not mean what I said.”

I ignored his outstretched hands when I faced Roxanne. “I will write the letter tonight.” I told her before storming out of the study.