Page 11 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

“Glacier saffron comes as a pink, glistening powder. When ingested, it forces obedience.”

“The pink glitter.” I closed my eyes, focusing on those few images that remained from my past. “It was on the surface of the drink he gave me.”

“What color was the drink?”

“Swirls of pink and blue. With a shimmer. It tasted like cake.”

He nodded. “Camyte. Thebrackbragged about getting a saddlebag full of it from the late King Aigel.”

Right. Trez got it as a part of the deal he’d made. And I happened to be the other part of that bargain.

“Camyterelaxes your mind,” the High General explained. “It makes you care less about your surroundings. It can also impair your perception, making you think and feel whatever the person who gave it to you wishes you to feel.”

“Sounds awful.”

He didn’t argue with that. “Both substances are extremely rare. But so are humans.”

He gave me a curious glance.

I kept my mouth open, but the words once again refused to come.

He leaned over, taking my chin into his hand. Peering into my eyes, he said softly, “Ask.”

There was a push of power in his voice. It reached inside me, dissolving the obstacle in my throat that prevented questions from leaving it.

“Will the haze in my brain go away?” The question left my lips easily, this time, freely like a breath.

“Eventually.” He released my chin, taking the horse’s reins into his left hand. His right one remained on my waist, supporting me as we rode. “Though you may wish it didn’t,” he added ominously.

Fear gripped my throat. I almost wished for more of Trez’scamytedrink, missing the state of not caring that it provided.

“What are you planning to do with me?”

His chest expanded against my side with a deep breath. “I gave my promise to present you to the king. And that is exactly what I will do.”

“Why? What does the king want with me?”

He petted my side soothingly, as if calming a skittish animal.

“Whatever comes, you’ll be well taken care of. Chances are the king will keep you. You’ll like the king. Everyone does.”

A hard note in his voice and the way his jaw muscles ticked prompted me to prod.

“Except for you, right? You don’t like your king that much, do you?”

His dark, elegant eyebrows moved closer together. He lifted his chin, staring straight ahead.

“I hold the utmost respect for the crown,” he bit out.

“Forthe crown. But not for the king.”

He slowly moved his gaze back to my face. I expected to find annoyance in his eyes, anger maybe. But they shone with interest.

“The king and the crown are one and the same,” he stated.

“If you say so.” I shrugged, letting him know he hadn’t convinced me at all.

He huffed, shaking his head, but said nothing in reply. The silence depressed me more than his anger would.

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