The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 35: The Truth Unraveled

Arran awoke groggy and disoriented in the most beautiful room he had ever seen, with the exception of Inna's apartment. Painted flowers and thorny vines decorated the cream-colored walls, creating a tranquil atmosphere of nature and openness. A gentle breeze drifted inside through the open balcony doors on his left and rustled the white curtains of the four-poster bed. The bed was made of a dark type of wood, expensive by the looks of it and undoubtedly imported from the Illaeryn Continent, especially because of the faerie-like creatures that danced around the pillars. According to the few stories he knew about them, faeries only lived in the north.

His fingers stroked the clean, white sheets. Soft, almost delicate, like the brush of a woman's hair against his hand. Silk. He had only slept in silk sheets once.

He bolted upright at once, yet his stomach protested at the abruptness of the movement. His teeth chattered; his fever had returned as well. When the nausea had receded, he swung his legs out of bed and shuffled to the balcony. It overlooked a smaller courtyard, though it was still large enough to cover an entire block of houses in the Copper District. Gray flagstones wound a path between rose bushes and other plants that seemed to have been plucked straight from the Lelian Jungle. A group of men in long, purple robes, the cuffs embroidered with silver, strolled in the shade of the arcade that ran along the courtyard's borders.

Arran leaned his forearms on the wrought-iron railing of the balcony and put his face in his hands. He was in the royal palace. Slowly, as though reluctant to shatter the remnants of sleep muddling his thinking, the memories of what had happened returned to him. His body bent double as the grief at Zohra's death rushed back in, unfathomable and heart-wrenching. He wanted to curl up on the ground and cry until every tear was spent, but another memory drew him up short, filling him with dread.

Hush now, big brother.

"I see you're awake. It was about time."

He swiveled around, immediately regretting doing so. Adira stood in the doorway, her dark hair snapping around her face. Her eyes twinkled at the sight of him, just as they had always done, but now her irises were cold frost instead of a welcoming pool. How could she smile at him while her hands were still sticky with Zohra's blood?

Her face fell. "Are you all right?"

"How long?" he croaked, bunching his hands into fists. "How long have you been conspiring with them?"

Her chest swelled with a deep breath. She took a cautious step forward, as if she was dealing with a wild animal that would run off at the first sign of danger. It wasn't so far-fetched a thought. "Do you remember why baba tried to steal from that merchant?"

The question threw him off guard. "Why would you ... He stole for the same reason why I steal, Adira: because we hardly have enough to fill our stomachs."

She shook her head. "We were both so young at the time. Yes, we were poor, but he'd never taken the risk before. Their combined salaries were enough for our parents to feed the four of us, if only barely. No, Arran." She stopped mere inches from him, craning her neck to look him in the eye. Arran found it hurt to look back. The image of his sweet little sister clashed with this cool young woman before him. "You were the reason he made that fatal decision."

"Me?" Humorless laughter that bordered on hysterical erupted from his mouth. "All right, I'll take the bait. Why?"

"You had just discovered your magic," she explained. "The magical blood in maia's family had skipped a generation and chosen you as the next worthy heir. Baba was elated, certain that your gifts would be our way out of poverty."

Arran swallowed. His chest constricted at the thought of where this was going.

Adira passed him and leaned on the balcony railing, looking out over the courtyard below. "Students at the School of Sorcery and Magical Arts are accepted as young as fourteen years old. Baba figured he would be able to scrap enough money together for the tuition fee if he were careful not to steal too much at once. So he began smuggling small portions of the spices away from the merchant's deliveries, to sell them for a slightly lower price on the black market later."