The Ashen Raven's Treason

Chapter 1

The kingdom of Rivian, old and pure, does not bear the weight of curse. Wizards and witches alike have scorned the land with their ancient abilities to harbor ill tides and forced the ordinary into disarray. Their spells and poems of deceit and gloom lasted for weeks, months, even years. The land remembers most, deep in the soil. Far enough away that no one can dig to reach their skeletal bodies, clutching onto the dried and fading ink.

It has once been said that an ancient wizard, a hateful man that wished to freeze the hearts of others without putting his hand to their chest, cast Rivian in an eternal winter. The sun would never rise, the sky would continue to shed frozen tears until the buildings, the animals, the streets and lakes, were swallowed whole by ice so thick, new settlements would have to live on top of it.

When winter faded into spring and the ground thawed, the stocking of endless food and fright seemed so foolish. They hanged that wizard for lying about his threats to demolish an entire kingdom, simply with a wave of his hand and harsh roll of his tongue. Like the rest, he was buried so deep that no living magic could dig him back up.

Shuffling on the loose layer of fresh snow, my teeth chattering, I wonder if that wizard may have completed what he wished to achieve. I have forgotten the simplicity of curling my hand into a fist without shuddering against the ache in my bones or the burn in my swollen, frozen fingers. Endless layers of sheep's wool and collars of fur lining aren't thick enough to cut through winter's icy grip. My hiding toes encased in thick socks and a leather shield of laces and an impenetrable sole are beginning to freeze the longer I stand in the woods.

Remaining still interferes with my ability to maintain a flake of warmth and I dance back and forth, clicking my heels together to remind myself that I still can. I tuck my face deeper into the fur lining of my trench coat, but the snow has seeped into that, too. My cheeks sting in protest.

By the time we're done here, I'll have dug myself a hole to hide in.

Completely unfazed by the swirling wind tearing through the pine trees, the eldest prince of Rivian squats above the pond and taps at the layer of ice, testing strength and thickness. Like me, he dawns enough layers that he stands as wide as a pastry-loving fool, his nose bright red and lips turning a lifeless shade of purple.

Spring is only weeks away. The warmer season hasn't shown a shrivel of its face, we've waited beyond frozen windows and watched flurries of ice blanket every surface down to the most insignificant stone bench. Hills of alabaster remain untouched, frozen, and immovable. Until a prickling heat born out the hands of a magical being, a force-given ability, melts winter's layers. Even then, we're left to wonder when this season will end.

Gustus's knees crack in protest when he stands and turns back towards me, the frozen snow crunching underneath his boots. "This should do," he says, giving a terse nod.

Those are the words I didn't want to hear. I wanted him to frown and say we'd try another day when the ice is thicker, but the prince is not so easily persuaded. Winter hasn't just weakened our crops to the south or hindered travel in and out of cities. Boredom has struck even the busiest of royal members and I happen to be the one person able to distract him from endless days spent staring longingly into the white-capped city.

"Don't you think this is foolish?" I question. My words slur together as one, tongue thick with frost. "We're too close to the palace."

Gustus waves a gloved hand, turning his mouth down in lack of caution. "No one dares venture this far out. Besides, I told my guards that I'd be spending the day in the city with my friend."

I arch a brow at him. Left with no other choice, we were friends immediately after I arrived all those months ago to the palace, early into autumn's warning call. Gustus shared a secret with me, a secret that could get him killed, and I did the same. Together, we share an all-powerful strength frowned upon in Rivian. If caught, we're to face the gallows or his mother's-the Raven Queen's-wrath. Though a wielder herself, the kingdom of Rivian bows their heads to a fearless and wise queen.