The Raven Flame [The Crown Saga III] (First Draft)

Spirits Tell no Tales

Panic seared my broken skin as I desperately searched for a way through the wall of thorns Tarkan had trapped me behind. The thicket recovered from my attempt to cut through it faster than I could chop with my wind blade.

I cursed my bad luck as a drop of sweat trickled across the open wound on my cheek from my damp brow.

I'd been trapped in here for almost half an hour. Tarkan had probably already warned the king, and I had no idea how much time I would've left before the guards came to collect my golden skin.

I stepped back to look for weaknesses in the rooted structure again when I noticed a crack in the wall above the opening. My eyes widened in disbelief when the familiar ragged edges of the wounded granite laughed at me.

Biting my lip, I turned on my heels, rushing past the shower area toward the naked wall at the other end of the room.

I fumbled for my necklace, its polished edges clumsily slipping through my trembling fingers every time I reached for it.

Finally, I caught the cursed thing and slammed it against the wall.

A breath of relief escaped my parched throat when the mechanism activated, and my hand disappeared into the illusion. This was the room with access to the secret tunnels leading to the previous air wing.

I'd been so preoccupied with Tarkan and the fear of my secret being revealed that I'd been oblivious to which dressing room I'd been trapped in the entire time.

My heart was racing when I looked back to see if someone had entered while I'd been busy, but the thorned wall was still untouched and armored.

It puzzled me why Tarkan hadn't already been here with an army to take me away. Half an hour should've been plenty to warn the king and assemble a small team of guards.

I shook it off and stepped into the illusion for the first torch to illuminate the empty hall. I didn't have time to dwell in the silence or the exhilaration of my key still working.

Heels were still not my favorite footwear, but I'd learned to endure the dread of my feet being squashed. However, running was out of the question, so I tossed them aside and ran barefoot through the dimly lit darkness.

"Will?" Faye said when I tumbled inside my chamber. "What are you doing here? Is the rehearsal dinner over already?"

I was so out of breath that every word I tried forcing past my lips was turned into a warm mist. Instead, I rushed into my open wardrobe, searching the darkest corners of the deepest closet for the worn duffel bag I first came here with.

"What is going on?" Faye asked again as I began pulling down dresses, shirts, the few pants I'd been allowed to own, and jackets.

"I-I have to leave, Faye," I whispered, struggling to close the worn zipper.

"Leave?" she said, stopping a few steps before she reached me. "To where? And what about your wedding tomorrow?"

"I'm not marrying Tarkan."

My tone had become harsh. I didn't mean to snap at her, but my heart was racing a thousand miles an hour, pumping distressing adrenaline through my golden veins. I was scared.

"What? But we've been preparing for weeks. Why would you abandon Prince Calix like that? He loves you."

"He doesn't love me, Faye," I shouted, turning around to grab her by her shoulders. "He despises me, and I despise him. The king forced us into an engagement. We—"

Faye's cold fingers suddenly grazed my cheek as her eyes turned wide. "What happened to your face?" she whispered as my golden blood stained her fingertips.