Page 37 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
He leans back, bracing on his hands, his face turned up to the stars. “The rest of the time, we survive, the same way we always have. When you live on the run, eventually, you get used to the cold comfort of never knowing what comes next.”
The fire spits, and I flinch. Bran doesn’t.
“Do you remember your life before…all of this?” I ask.
His smile is sad and private. “Every minute.”
We sit in silence, the air thick with the things neither of us wants to say.
When Sable and Grim return to the fire, Sable is grinning, his eyes bright with mischief.
“What are we talking about?” he asks, flopping down on my other side and draping an arm over my shoulders like he’s known me all his life.
“Nothing,” Bran says, but Sable ignores him, crowding me closer until my thigh is pressed to Bran’s and my shoulder to Sable’s. Sable’s body is hot, and he smells like sap and crushed mint.
Grim stands behind the log, his arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that makes the fine hairs on my arms stand up. “You should ask your questions,” he says.
My tongue refuses to work for a minute. “Were you really just…boys when you were forced you out?”
“We were terrors.” Sable snorts as if it’s a joke, but there’s a darkness in his eyes that doesn’t match his tone. “We still are.”
Bran shoots him a look, but Sable just grins, all sharp teeth and shadow. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
They lapse into silence again, and I find myself leaning against Sable, soaking up the heat from his body and the easy way he smiles.
“Can I ask…” I hesitate, not sure which question I want to start with here. “The king, my father…it seems as if he knows you. He fears you.”
“We knew him once,” Grim says. “In another life.”
“He says you’re dangerous,” I whisper.
“And do you believe him?”
“No,” I whisper, but even as I say it, I know it’s not quite true. They are dangerous, frightfully so. But I don’t fear them. Perhaps that’s foolishness on my part, or perhaps it’s something else, something beyond my understanding. But I know they don’t mean me harm, as much as my father is convinced they do. They look at me like I’m salvation, not like I’m something to destroy.
“You should,” Shade says abruptly, startling me. I didn’t even realize he’d returned. I peer over my shoulder to find him standing in the shadows, his eyes bleak. “We are dangerous, Princess.”
I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. “He said you’re killers.”
“We are, so often and so long we lost count long ago.”
I turn this revelation over in my mind and realize that it changes nothing. How can it when the king has more blood on his hands than anyone has a right to? If they’re killers, what does that make my father?
The others return, each drawn by the pull of the fire and the low hum of conversation.
Talon sits across from me, legs splayed wide, his size making the log groan beneath him. He grins, all wolf and hunger.
Shade and Grim take seats flanking him, their faces unreadable.
Rune slips in next to Sable, so close I feel the tattoos under his skin burning hot.
Onyx hangs back at first, looming at the fire’s periphery like a storm cloud, but eventually he sits beside Bran, his bulk squeezing me tighter into the group.
I’m caged, but for once, I don’t mind it.
Shade’s gaze pins me as he leans in, the firelight making his eyes seem endless. “Does the truth frighten you?”
I meet his gaze, refusing to look away. “No,” I say.
