Page 4 of The Bone King and the Starling

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she says with all of the sass of a much older woman. I can see her mother in her easily when she smirks at me in such a way.

I bump her hip with my own. “But that does not mean that I would like to be anywhere near him.”

She makes a nervous face at that. “Neither would I.” She hesitates, looking like she wants to say more. “He caught an assassin from Eccaron while my family was in the capital. He sacrificed him to Davral.” The goddess of pain. A sacrifice to her is said to guarantee victory in battle. But Davral only accepts sacrifices in one way…

I freeze over. “He performed the ritual?”

She nods.

Bile tickles the back of my throat, but I press it down. I shake my head. “That’s terrible.”

“And there are other rumors…”

“What?”

“That he tortured raiders just outside of Winterbren on his way here.”

I shiver even more violently. “I’m grateful I’m a thrall then, and won’t merit an introduction.”

“Good thing we are but lowly females,” she whispers, a grin overtaking her face. “We won’t have to talk to him or risk incurring his wrath, but that does not mean we can’t still look— Look! Here he comes.” She squeezes my wrist and I can feel the tension and excitement of the townspeople around me as the crowd suddenly surges forward.

Jostled from the back, I cling to Ebanora’s arm and push myself up onto my tiptoes, though that hardly helps. I’m not tall, shorter than most of the women and shorter than all of the men. “Here, stand here.” Ebanora grabs my shoulder and yanks me to Tori’s left, where a small gap allows me to see the reddish-brownsnout of the most incredible horse I’ve ever seen as it carries the king of Wrath — our king, the king of bones — down our small village’s largest street.

The horse alone is enough to distract me. Its hooves sound like the clack of lightning layered against the deeper thunder of the horses behind it, traveling like a thick cloud. Its coat is fine and well cared for, bridled in black. The creature stands taller than any man here and it’s because of that that I have no problem at all seeing the king as he suddenly flashes into existence. I could have been standing directly behind Tori and still seen most of him. Now, he’s all I can see.

The three rows of people that stand between the king and me vanish. I see him in all of his glory, even though he does not see me. Ebanora had not been telling tall tales. He’s a beast of a male. More beast than the one he rides atop. Broad and muscled everywhere, his size is only accentuated by the plush brown and black furs lashed across his breadth. He wears leather beneath that and, for his sake, I hope cotton or wool below that because without it, he’d have to be cold. Then again, he’s not a male who looks like he gets cold. While his skin is the same white color of most Winterbren’s villagers’, he has a heavier tan laid atop that base color than most. Sunlight clings to him. As does flame.

His hair is red and vibrant, the least common color in our village. It’s a handsome color, though I would never dare to describe the king as handsome. He looks far too savage for that. He has scars on his bare hands that disappear beneath his vambraces. His neck is thicker than my upper thigh. His face is severe, the bridge of his nose slightly bent — at least, it looks that way in his profile — his brow prominent, his eyes dark beneath it. His cheeks and jaw are cut hard, making his entire countenance appear mean and angry. And big. My head feels so small by comparison.

I reach up and touch the side of my scalp, scratching my fingers through my hair. It’s matted in patches and I drop my hand immediately, feeling ashamed as the king swings his massive head on his massive neck and looks down at us from atop his massive steed, gazing over his massive, muscled shoulder.

“My lord, I will fight for you until the last breath! Wuah!” Tori shouts loudly and I flinch. The king’s gaze lands on him and as several of the other warriors clap for their bold friend, the king does not break his pace. He only dips his chin once before sweeping his gaze from Tori over the crowd. Then he’s off again.

While the rest of the caravan of riders moves on — I lose count of them at thirty — and Tori receives cheers and congratulations for catching the king’s notice, Ebanora leans in towards me. “Is it just me or did the king’s gaze seem to linger over you?” Her voice is taunting, meant to inspire fear — I can tell from the way her tone goes up at the end. And despite knowing all this, it works.

I get chills and shudder. She laughs and I steer her away from Tori as the crowd begins to disperse frantically — the feast is about to begin in the great hall and it will be the largest this village has ever seen. While I won’t be in attendance like Ebanora will — with a place at one of the six long tables — I will be there nonetheless, serving.

“You are blind as a winter bat.”

She laughs and loops her arm through mine.

“He was looking at Tori,” I add as we round the next set of houses.

“Tori is an idiot,” Ebanora whispers.

I snicker, not wanting to agree with her and be heard. That will certainly get me another beating. “Thank you for making me come and watch,” I tell her as I bring her to the door of her home. A squat wooden structure, it’s only two rooms, but to me it seems like a labyrinth.

“I’ll see you at the feast.” She kisses my cheek.

“I’ll try to serve at your table.”

“Please! I’ll sneak you all my sweets.”

I giggle and kiss her back and am off to the kitchens.

THE PRIZE

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