Page 128 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

“Where are we going, Voron? Where are you taking me?”

He spurred the horse, steering it onto a narrow pathway behind the streets of the city.

“I’m taking you where you wanted to go, little bird. To the River of Mists.”

I let his words sink in.

The River of Mists.

He was setting me free, after all.

“What about your promise to the queen?”

He smirked. “All the queen’s orders have been fulfilled. She ordered me to bring you to Elaros, and I did it. Now, I want to do something of my own free will. But we need to be quick, before she fires any new orders at me.”

“You’re taking me without her permission? She’ll punish you.”

“Oh, she will. But I’ll deal with it later. Now, duck and hide.”

“What?” I blinked in confusion but did as he said, drawing my head into my shoulders and pressing myself tighter to him.

He drew the cloak over my head. “Shhh. Be a good little bird and don’t make a peep.”

Noises of a busy street closed in on us from all sides. Rattling of carriages. Shuffling of feet. People yelling, laughing, and arguing.

“The city gates are open, High General.” Alcon’s quiet voice came from right above us. He must be flying low and very close to us. “Lots of people are arriving to watch the execution. The guards are checking all those coming in, but not those who are leaving.”

“Good,” Voron grunted, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder through his cloak.

One word had struck me.Execution.

Whose execution was it supposed to be?

Mine?

I drew in air in rapid, shallow breaths, filling my lungs with Voron’s warm, comforting scent. After a while, the noise around us receded, and he drew the cloak back, allowing me to look out again.

We were nearing the forest Trez and I had hiked through, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

It was really happening. Voron was taking me back to where I’d come from. Soon, I could go home. I was going to get what I wanted, after all.

I was getting a chance to live.

The mists hung low over the river as we approached. The gray clouds bloated, rising above the rocky banks. They seemed to merge with the thick dark clouds gathering on the horizon. The pink streak of the River of Mists was barely visible as a slim, shimmering glow deep in the middle of the stormy fog.

Only the first few rows of cobblestone pavement of the bridge emerged from the cloud cover that completely shrouded the rest of the bridge, hiding it from view.

Alcon and two of Voron’s men landed but held a respectful distance from us. Two other men remained up in the sky, watching the road.

“Ready?” Voron dismounted from the horse, then helped me down, too.

I clutched his cloak in my fingers, keeping him close while I steadied my shaking legs.

“As ready as I can be.” I managed a smile.

He opened a saddlebag and took out a long black shirt, one of his by the look of it.

“From what I read,” he pulled the shirt over my head and down my body, “all River of Mists portals in the human world open over a body of water. All known ones are over shallow ponds or creeks, but be ready to swim, just in case.”

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