Page 44 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

I turned around as Voron strolled out from under the arches with flowers. Draped in a black cloak, with his sword handle rising over his left shoulder, he looked very much the same as on the day we first met.

“Or did you come down here for another reason? I heard you tried to sneak out into the city, little bird.”

He really had eyes everywhere. Was that why he came down here? To keep an eye on me?

“I now know not to try again,” I said. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Good.” He came closer. “And just to set matters straight, no part of me physically resembles an icicle.”

Mortification chilled me from head to toe. He’d overheard Libelle talking about his dick. Was there something worse we’d discussed? But what could be worse than talking about his private parts behind his back?

“Oh, no… You heard?”

I wished the cobblestones would part under my feet for the ground to swallow me whole.

He appeared very much unfazed, however. Calm, like always.

“My dear Sparrow, someone is alwayslisteningin the king’s palace. As a rule, it’s best not to say out loud anything you don’t want to be known by everyone.”

My mouth felt dry as I replied, “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He sat on the bench and leaned against its back, crossing an ankle over his knee. He didn’t invite me to join him, and I figured it was best to leave him alone. Drawing my cloak closer around me, I walked past him, fully intending to continue on my way along the path. After a couple of steps, however, I stopped.

Ever since I got to this world, it’d been overwhelming. New information had been coming at me from all directions and all possible sources before I even had a chance to process what I’d learned.

Voron, with his firm logic and composed manner of speaking, had the ability to sort things out for me. He could be helpful, and I should use him, as long as he let me.

Of course, he could always tell me off. Especially now, after he’d caught me gossiping about his dick of all things.

After a moment of hesitation, I decided to give it a try, anyway, by starting with the most casual question I could think of: “What’s the name of your raven?”

He turned to look at the bird, as if he’d forgotten it was there.

“Magnus.” At the sound of his name, Magnus tipped his head, regarding his master with one of his beady eyes. “Only it’s not a raven. He’s a crow. From the Dakath Mountains in the Below.”

“How long have you had him?”

He flinched, as if at a bad memory, but it was so fleeting, I wondered if I’d imagined it.

“For about a hundred and seventy years,” he replied.

So, since he was a child, then.

“Do crows live that long?”

“This one does.” Voron lifted a finger and Magnus hopped on it, digging his claws into the leather of his master’s black glove.

“He listens well to you.”

“No.” For once, his eyes warmed with affection. “We just happen to like the same things and have a mutual understanding.” He stroked the clawed feet of his pet with his thumb.

Voron seemed to be in a fairly talkative mood today, so I ventured another question. “Would you tell me about this place, please?”

Magnus flew off to the nearest flowerbed, where he scraped at the dirt, searching for worms.

Voron draped his arm over the back of the bench. His cloak opened at that gesture, revealing an all-black outfit underneath. “What place do you mean? Elaros? The gardens? Sky Kingdom? Or the entire Nerifir.”

“Tell me about Nerifir. No,” I immediately corrected myself. “Tell me about this whole entire thing. Starting with that pink mist that brought me here.”

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