Page 40 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens (The Crimson Duet #1)

Treaty

F rancis’ words crowded my mind like a shadow.

Of course I understood the risks of talking to Mother. What were the odds she would make us walk straight into a trap: too afraid of people finding out the truth about the attacks.

But she was no fool.

Unlike William Barren, she knew the seriousness of the situation. She knew she could not hide the situation for long nor could she stop the Wurdulacs solely with a human army.

Soon enough her people would find out one way or another, and then her authority would be no more than a jest.

She knew that, and I could only hope it was a good enough reason for her to hear me: allow us to work together.

My wrist ached uncomfortably as I held the quill. It had only been a few hours since Francis had put my bone into its place, yet the healing had already started. The numbness slowly disappeared.

I stared at the empty parchment before me and the words escaped my mind in an instant. What would I even say? Good evening, Mother, the daughter you buried a few months ago is writing to you. Wurdulacs are planning a war: perhaps we could discuss it.

A groan escaped my lips as I put the quill down onto my dressing table.

Perhaps Francis was right: it was a foolish idea. Mother never read her letters, leaving her council to do the job. Only important documentation made it onto her table.

I spun the stamp in my hand; it shone under the candlelight. Would the royal mark be enough for the council to deem it worthy of their Queen’s attention?

“Cordelia?” A small voice called from the bed.

My eyes met Charlotte’s as she moved the blanket to the side.

“Are you feeling any better?” I rushed towards her, dropping the stamp on the table.

Charlotte’s hands wrapped around my neck when I sat beside her.

My hands held her tight. “You are safe here,” I whispered. A pair of green eyes studied me as though desperately wanting to believe my words yet couldn’t. “You are safe here, Charlotte.” I moved a strand of matted hair out of her face.

She slowly nodded. “I am safe here,” she repeated as though only saying it out loud would make it true. “Can I braid your hair?” Charlotte swallowed as her fingers brushed through my waves.

A small smile made it onto my face. “Of course,” I whispered back, settling down on the floor for Charlotte to reach.

She did not speak of what had happened last night nor did she speak of what had happened when she had been captured.

Everyone else must have gone to rest, for not even whispers accompanied me as I sat at the table in the library.

It had taken a lot of convincing to manage Charlotte back in bed after she had braided my hair. She’d held Silver against her chest when the first rays of sunshine had appeared from behind black curtains as she’d slowly drifted to sleep.

Silver hadn’t seemed to mind the embrace, his purrs had echoed through the quiet room when I’d closed the door behind me.

Candlelight illuminated the endless rows of bookshelves with dozens of sacred tomes and wicked novels settling down on the wood.

My eyes wandered through the titles when I couldn’t force my mind to focus on yet another empty piece of parchment before me.

My back wailed in protest when I tried to adjust my position on the chair I’d spent Moon knew how long on. My eyelids grew heavier with every passing moment against my wishes, yet the words still would not come.

“How is the letter?” Francis’ voice came from behind me.

“Not well,” I fought through a yawn.

“Have you slept at all?” He frowned.

“I’m all right.” I shook my head, my eyelids fluttered, fighting with the sleep that threatened to steal me at any moment.

“The letter can wait, Cordelia,” Francis said, his hands stretched out towards me.

“I’m fine,” I protested, yet my treasonous eyes wouldn’t stay open.

“Come now, Princess.” His hands wrapped around my waist, pulling me into his arms before I had a chance to counter. “You need rest.” He carried me out of the library. “I will write the letter. You can sign it when you wake.”

“What? No—” I tried to shake my head, but the warmth of his embrace welcomed the sleep to creep in from the darkness. Sweet dreams flowed through my mind, pulling me under.

“I am very sorry about what I said earlier,” Francis told me, carrying me down the hall.

“It’s all right,” I mumbled, resting my head on his shoulder. “It’s been a long night.”

“It has been indeed.” He opened the door to his room, navigating it in complete darkness.

“We will find Caleb,” I whispered when the soft blankets covered my skin.

The sleep corrupted my mind before I was able to tell Francis I had my own bed to sleep in.

Lighting the candles in the ballroom, Florence and I barely spoke—deep in our own thoughts. No matter how hard I tried to focus on the task at hand, my mind spiraled through all the happenings of the previous days.

Francis had laughed hard when I’d read the first draft of the letter I’d written. “Good thing I intervened,” He’d chuckled, though I couldn’t have even found it in me to roll my eyes at his rudeness as I’d watched him fix the bed I’d fallen asleep in that night.

But the letter had been written, signed, and sent a few nights ago; all we could do then was wait.

Florence and I had walked Charlotte back home when she had started feeling better. All these passing days she’d refused to leave my side, following after me like a shadow.

It had broken my heart to leave her at the orphanage, but we might have to leave any day for the meeting, and only the Moon knew what awaited us on the Royal grounds.

I’d promised Charlotte, when her eyes had filled with tears, I would visit her the moment we were back. She’d refused to let go of our embrace as she’d hugged me tight, whispering into my ear, “If you don’t come back in a week, I will walk to your castle myself. I memorized the way.”

“Could you pass me that?” Florence pulled me out of my hurricane of thoughts.

“I cannot believe we are still having a ball after what happened.” I offered her the silverware that she carefully put down on the table.

We had been setting up tables all evening in complete silence. I knew no one felt like having a ball right now—especially not the humans who would walk through these very doors—and I could not hide my disgust.

“We have to, Cordelia.” A note of annoyance shone through Florence’s voice as she explained for the tenth time, “If we don’t feed Faris they will go after humans on their own accord. They will have no other choice.”

“I know,” I said quietly, hating to admit the rationale of her words. “If I were a human, I would steer clear from this place after Wurdulacs butchered my people.” I passed her another set.

“They know it is safer this way.” Florence’s lips turned into a thin line as though she wasn’t exactly fond of the idea either. “We were the ones to stop the attack. We have a treaty: we did our part by protecting them, it is their turn to feed us.”

“It sounds cruel,” I muttered, walking towards the next table.

“War is never kind,” Florence sighed. “And we—”

“They accepted.” Roxanne’s steps pounded on the marble floor as she ran into the ballroom; papers fluttered in her hands as she made her way towards us.

She offered me the letter with a neat handwriting I immediately recognized as my mother’s.

A wicked smile made it onto Roxanne’s face when she met my gaze, “Your mother agreed to meet us at the full moon.”