Broken But Unburnt

Prologue

Prologue

WARNING: This story contains depictions of violence that may be upsetting for some readers.

Ravenna tapped her nails on the wooden table and peered outside at the setting sun beyond the windows. It was late. Too late.

He had said three days. He had promised. When she'd begged and pleaded with him not to go, he had taken her face in his hands, stared into her eyes, and promised her that he would only be gone for three days. Curse him. Curse his foolish sense of duty.

"Mama?"

Ravenna turned to the little girl standing in the doorway of the bedroom they all shared in this tiny, unremarkable hut.

"Where's papa?"

I don't know.

"He will be here soon, my sweet," Ravenna told her with a smile, rising from her chair and approaching the girl, hunched over and grinning. Perhaps she should call Orick. He would know what kept him. Or, at least, he would come and ease this sense of impending doom she hadn't been able to shake all day. "For now, why don't you go and play and—"

She stopped, straightened up, standing to her full height and whipping her gaze to the window. Something was wrong. She had sensed it. A shift in the wind, a familiar scent, and then—

"Ravenna!" The bellowing voice came from the other side of the door as angry fists began to pound upon it. Ravenna spun around, wide eyed, to the child.

"Come," she said, hurriedly, pushing her off toward the pantry on the opposite end of the kitchen. "Get in here. Hide yourself. Do not come out until I say, do you understand me?"

"Mama—" the child stared up at her, eyes widened with fear.

"Promise me," Ravenna spat desperately. "Promise me that you will not come out until I say so."

"I promise."

The girl nodded emphatically and Ravenna had just enough time to close the pantry and whirl around before the entrance to the hut burst open, the door swinging half off its hinges. But Ravenna hadn't closed the pantry door entirely and the child could still see what was happening beyond. Though she held her breath, afraid to move. She didn't dare even reach out to pull the pantry door one inch closer to shut it.

"Ravenna," the same bellowing voice from before said, but this time it wasn't so loud and it seemed almost relieved. "There you are."

"How did you find me?" Ravenna asked. Her hands were shaking behind her back but her voice was strong, confident, firm.

"This has gone far enough, don't you think?" The man asked and he finally stepped out of the blinding sun and into the hut. His features weren't all that remarkable, except for the fact that they looked astutely like Ravenna's. The same dark, tousled waves. The same bright green eyes. The same high cheekbones and pale face. He held out a hand but Ravenna did not take it. In fact, she took a step back, away from him. He sighed and when he spoke again, his tone was exasperated. "Come home, Ravenna. Put this wretched business behind you and come home."

"Wretched business," Ravenna bristled. She set her jaw and stepped forward but a soldier was there in an instant, drawing a sword and holding it between them in defense of the man. Ravenna hardly seemed to notice. She sneered at the visitor over the blade, her face inches from his. "That's what you call my family? My home?"

"This," the man replied, gesturing grandly at the hut around them in apparent annoyance, "is not your home, Ravenna. He is not your family. I am."

"Some families are made of blood," Ravenna spoke indifferently, crossing her arms and settling back away from him. "Others are made of choice."