The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 10: Bound by a Curse

Inna sat cross-legged on the sofa in Zohra's living room, a cold cup of much too sugary tea in her hands. Her eyes were dry and likely bloodshot from exhaustion, but she was too tense to relax. Since the lunar eclipse, over half an hour ago, a growing restlessness had clawed at her insides. Even Zazi's attempts to distract her with trivial conversation hadn't succeeded in easing the growing pile of burdens on her shoulders.

Inna scrubbed a hand over her face. Memories of other conversations presented themselves to her, confronting her with the increasing chaos that was her reality. Her father's angered face when she had told him about the vision. Zohra's plea to help Arran out of the terrible mess he had made. Rabyatt's charming face as he told her about his intentions to marry her.

Her fingers stroked the soulstone in the pocket of her pants. Its consoling warmth drove out some of the cold panic that had turned her blood into a glacier. She bent her head, wishing Tata was there to talk to.

The sound of something heavy scraping against the floor startled both Inna and Zohra from their daydreams. The fortune teller was up and out of the room before Inna had the chance to blink. Considering the woman's age, she moved damn fast when she wanted to.

Zohra's warm, soothing voice joined a lower one, which spoke to her in a fast-paced, nearly hysterical tone. Inna followed them to a cramped room in the back of the fortune teller's house. Arran's turquoise eyes flicked to her when she entered the room, wary and agitated. He looked very different from the man she had met that afternoon: his dark hair and his clothes were disheveled, the almond glow of his skin had dulled to an unhealthy paleness and his aura ... Inna sensed a wrongness about him before she noticed the dark edges around his orange aura.

Shadows. They hadn't been there before.

"So it's done," she whispered.

Arran narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "How does it feel to be cursed by a god?"

He bared his teeth into a snarl and took a step forward, wincing while doing so. Inna glimpsed down at his legs. One of his ankles was bruised and swollen, probably twisted.

Arran ignored the pain and limped closer until he towered above her. She straightened her back, refusing to be intimidated.

"What do you want me to say, princess?" he growled. "You were right. Are you happy now?"

"Happy?" She barked a bitter, humorless laugh. "You stole a goddamn World Artifact. How am I supposed to be happy about that?"

"Children!" Zohra's mouth was taut with disapproval. "Keep the fighting for later, yeah?" She glared at Inna, who answered her gaze with proud defiance. She rolled her eyes and shuffled to Arran, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. "Come on, misha. Let's take a look at that ankle first."

Inna sucked in a deep breath to calm down and trailed after them, back to the living room. Leaning against the open door frame, she watched as Arran hobbled to the sofa and Zohra rummaged around in drawers until she found a jar with a green ointment. She knelt down in front of her pupil to inspect his injured ankle. Arran closed his eyes while she applied a generous amount of the ointment to the bruises, some of the tension in his body ebbing away.

When he opened his eyes again, he smiled at the older woman. His face already looked a bit more lively. "Thank you, Zohra."

She grumbled something incomprehensible in response.

Inna decided that this was her cue and stepped into the room, unwinding Zazi's long body from her neck to place her onto the cushion next to Arran. A soft whimper escaped his throat when the snake put her head on his thigh. Inna stifled a chuckle and took a seat on the coffee table, directly in front of him.