Page 31 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

It appeared someone had spent time trying to tame his hair with a comb earlier today. However, their efforts had mostly been wasted, as Voron’s hair refused to be tamed into absolute perfection. His raven-black tresses looked tousled, like ruffled feathers. Swept back, the silvery-white strands over his forehead glistened like snowy ridges atop black mountains.

His massive sword was strapped to his back, with both the pommel and the guard ornately decorated and bejeweled. The sword’s leather-wrapped hilt, however, showed some serious wear and tear, proving that the weapon was not a mere decoration. It’d been used, and often.

The fact that Voron had the weapon on him told me that even inside the palace where he apparently had full control, he didn’t feel completely safe.

Over his right shoulder, a black cape was draped, falling all the way to the floor. It was too long, even for his height. A couple of feet of the darker-than-night material trailed along the marble tiles behind him as he took a step in my direction.

For a moment, I forgot all about our mutual resolution to hate each other or that he was here only to “present” me to someone else. I shamelessly admired his tall stature and his sure stride as he strolled toward me. Voron wasn’t just breathtakingly handsome, he exuded an air of easy confidence, looking every bit the second most powerful man in the kingdom after the king.

Except that the very next moment, his confidence wavered. He stopped in his tracks, staring at me. I fought the impulse to cover my breasts with my hands. My gilded nipples must be winking at him through the fabric of the dress that concealed nothing. But he’d seen me completely naked before. This shouldn’t be as awkward as it suddenly felt.

The outfit wasn’t my choice, but the only dignified thing to do at this point was to own it. And since he just continued staring—taking in all of me from my hair, styled into cascading curls and braids and decorated with pink roses, to my light-gray shoes with kitten heels and golden buckles—I stood taller, cleared my throat, and spoke.

“Good evening, Voron… Um, High General, I mean,” I said in a strong, clear voice, but dipped my head in a belated bow.

What was the protocol here? The guards who were with me just bowed their heads, without voicing any greeting at all.

Voron’s throat bobbed with a swallow. He blinked. And just like that, his chillingly calm expression returned.

“Good evening to you, too, Sparrow. You look breathtakingly stunning today.” His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply, as if recovering the breath I’d taken from him.

My skin tingled at the sound of his voice, just like it did back in the library when I had stood in front of him completely naked.

“Thanks.” I ran the hands down my many skirts. The thin material flattened under my palms, only to poof right up the moment I let go. “But I can’t take any credit for this. This is all Brebie’s hard work, hers and her team’s.”

“Brebie is excellent at that,” he agreed. “But she also had something remarkable to work with in your case.” His eyes flicked down my body once again, but he promptly returned his focus to my face, offering me his arm. “Well, shall we?”

I hooked my hand in the crook of his elbow and splayed my fingers on his forearm, ready for him to lead me to my fate, but he didn’t move.

My dress had no sleeves. Instead, my arms were decorated with lacy designs of vines, stars, and flowers painted by the talented artist back in my room. The swirls reached down to my hands and even covered the back of my fingers.

Voron traced a brush stroke on the back of my hand. He didn’t appear to be aware of the gesture, circling my knuckle, then slowly following a line to my wrist. When he finally realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand away.

I immediately missed the gentle caress and the ribbon of tingly pleasure it left in its wake.

“We better go.” Rolling back his shoulders, he led me toward the stairs.

The moment we stepped onto the first one, the stairs started to move. I gasped, gripping his arm.

“It’s safe,” he assured me softly.

This wasn’t like an escalator where the steps were connected by a belt. Each stair here was a long, polished slab of marble suspended in the air and supported by nothing. As we walked, it floated up and around the room, pushing the stairs in front of it ahead too. The vines of the railing moved along with it.

I could see down several floors between the floating stairs. Beautifully dressed courtiers strolled on the floors below. A few flew by us, using their wings. They headed up to the top floor where the ball must be taking place. I followed their path of flight with my gaze, tipping my head back and nearly tripping.

Voron steadied me, catching me just before I would’ve fallen backwards.

“Oh, this staircase is dangerous.” I gripped his arm with both hands, grateful for him being there.

“But beautiful, isn't it?” he replied. “It was designed and constructed by gorgonians.”

“Those who kill with their eyes?” I remembered Brebie’s story.

“Right. How do you know?”

“Brebie told me. She also said that the silk that the bugs make can be made into something that one can look through at gorgonians without turning into stone.”

“Also true.” He nodded. “Gorgonians haven’t always been friendly with sky fae. There was an incident, over a thousand years ago, when our King Aigel, King Tiane’s grandfather, made the mistake of kidnapping the gorgonian queen. Her husband got enraged, understandably so. With the help of the gargoyle king from the Dakath Mountains, the gorgonian King Consort got his queen back, burning down the old Sky Palace in the process.”

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