The Ashen Raven's Treason

Chapter 10

I'm awoken by the steady march of boots hitting the hallway outside my door. Legions of guards, all in perfect formation, jog past, their shadows pooling underneath the crack between the floor and wood.

Is it morning already?

I raise myself from the bottom of the bed, scratching at the knots in my hair. I must've fallen asleep. And before I could come to terms with the smartest decision on how to move forward with Cloak. Now that I've slept and allowed my dreams to carry me away from reality, that doesn't seem like such a monumental occurrence anymore.

The shouting taking place in the hallway is. Beyond the curtains pulled tight against my windows, the sky is still dark. Nearly every morning, legions of guards test their formations and execution plans in case someone—or something—invades the capital. Beyond my door, their calculated steps never rise louder than the clopping of a horse's hooves against stone. Always uniform, in line, and following a steady rhythm.

Their steps are faulty, rushed, and accompanied by fear. I scatter for a pair of decent clothes, practically tearing off my silk pajamas to tug on trousers, a tunic, and a fur-lined coat that cinches at the waist. I'm tying the laces of my boots when I hear Cloak's shouting voice beyond my door, urging them to move, move, move. Like I did when he kissed me, my body goes taut, unable to stir.

Something is wrong. Something is here. No one trains in the middle of the night, and if they did, they would stick to the training room on a higher floor in the palace, and Cloak wouldn't participate.

My hands won't steady, so I finish with loose knots and tug on gloves. What happened hours ago fades away from my mind like water being thrown onto a fire, steam wafting into the air. Terror has risen, and the first line of defense won't be the soldiers, the guards, the royal children, or the queen herself. The innocent people in the capital won't have anywhere to go if they are the target meant to pass through to get to the palace.

I rush to the door and crack it open. The continuing haste of guards solidifies my worries that something is here. Normally, their training would be over by now—to a different hallway full of closed doors and frost-bitten windows. A cold wind moves with those bodies and slithers within their forces, brushing back the strands of brown hair framing my face.

At the front of them all, I catch sight of Cloak rounding the corner, his horns raising taller than all the rest. A gold-lined cloak over his features. A shiver grabs onto my spine and shakes hard, rattling me to the core.

Their weapons and armor weigh them down, but they move as steadily as if they are free.

Slipping out from my chambers, I ease the door shut behind me and slink along the wall once the guards have passed. The echo of their bodies remains in my ears and I follow the sound of it, breaking into a jog that takes me down flights of staircases, around twisting corners, and down complicated and tightly wound towers. All the while, I run my hand along the wall to keep from losing my composure.

In my head, a list of people has formed. Those I need to protect and keep an eye on. Castiel is at the top of that list along with Chaska and Theoden. They can't protect themselves in the capital; my poor brother can't even walk. I take solace in knowing a Luminary is with them, protecting my brother and my adoptive father at all costs. Chaska, one of three Luminary friends I possess, remains more hidden than I am. Her power is identical to my own, but I am one of few that knows her secret.

Even Gustus, able to spot a Luminary from the start, never noticed that Chaska is more than she seems. Some Luminaries are harder to detect than others.

I have to find a way to get out of this palace, all the while avoiding the threat on the outside. Even if it's something minor, my family stands to lose something. The royals, the poor living in the slums, the weak and inexperienced—everyone stands to lose something they have gained. A life, the ability to walk, a loved one. Whatever happens, I won't be the one to grieve tonight.