The Ashen Raven's Treason

Chapter 16

I round the corner to Cloak's chambers quickly, only to slow. Lyndel isn't guarding his doors to keep me from entering. I expected someone to be here, whether the fladline or the gadigator that takes multiple different shifts and jobs in the palace. Neither are here.

My mouth quirks to the side. Cloak hardly ever leaves his doors unattended, but if he does, that means he truly wishes to be alone. This isn't the time for that. Of all the people he'll force away, I hope I'm not on that list. Before last night, I wouldn't have been. I fall into the same category as annoying servants and people he doesn't know at all. Nobility, his mother's closest supporters, the women that come few and far in between the more weeks I spend at this palace.

I hardly feel the trickle of magic spreading over my hairline to shift myself back into the form Cloak will most identify with. He won't recognize the Luminary I revealed while his brother dragged him away, and as far as he's concerned, I might not be alive at all. Did he ask anyone about my life? Did he worry for my safety once he realized the truth?

Taking a deep breath, I force myself to walk the rest of the way down the hall. My hands twitch nervously, desperate for a small object to fiddle with, or at least a reason to stop clenching into a fist and splaying back out. The door is unlocked, unguarded, and somewhat ghostly. I push open, slipping into the room before I've had the chance to scan the other side.

To no surprise, Cloak's furniture hides under shadows. He never allows the curtains to bathe light into his chambers, nor candles or torches. I have stood in this room enough times to know where everything is; the black heaps aren't constructed on living, breathing beasts, but soulless furniture that doesn't move.

My stare drifts to his bed. The duvet is thrown back from the last time he slept, only to be brutally woken by the Void Queen presenting herself to Exole. Sitting on the side, his face in his hands and his boots propped onto the wooden frame, Cloak doesn't move. I'm fairly certain he doesn't know I'm here.

He's visible in the dark when I heighten my senses to view him properly. How long he has sat here, locked away, is enough time for him to avoid taking a bath and peeling layers of armor off his body. Even his wounds haven't been tended to.

Right, that's my job.

I take one step into the room, towards him, when he speaks. "I will arrive to my mother's council shortly," he says. His voice is hard and brittle, like glass on the verge of shattering. "I need a few more minutes."

Anyone else would have turned on their heel and left immediately. He knows I'm here, knows he's not alone, yet he's not screaming at me. A sickening thought comes into my mind. Cloak might not realize I'm here at all; he thinks me to be an ordinary servant that has requested his presence once more. The queen of Rivian waits to discuss further efforts against his aunt, her sister.

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubs vigorously. Creases bulge on his forehead. I watch silently, building up the courage to find my voice. "You must let me explain, Cloak," I whisper.

At the sound of my voice, his head snaps up. He blinks sleep from his eyes and studies me. Immediately, his suspicions go to my hair, only to find the familiar brown shade he has known from the start. Once, while we sat in the library and read in silence, my hair spilled over the chair and he took it upon himself to braid a locket of it.

As if thinking of the same moment, when times were simpler, Cloak frowns. "Get out." He jams a finger towards the door. "I'm not ready to speak to you."

"Please, Cloak, you must let me explain what happened." I make the bold decision to move towards him, clamping my hands together at my chest in hopes of revealing my desperation. The prince has none of it. As fast as I can move, he stands from the side of the bed and shoves past me, putting further distance between us than before.