Page 25 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
I strip out of my coat and shoes, tucking them in a hollow at the root of a tree, then crouch low and let the shift take me.
It’s not as dramatic as what happens to Shade or Grim. The curse loves pain, and I learned to enjoy it long ago.
My body slips between forms like water forming to a new vessel. My bones snap, but quietly. The feathers sprout with a whisper.
I shrink, fold, and then become the raven.
The wind is sharp on my wings as I launch, banking hard to circle the tower. There’s an arrow slit not far below Raisa’s window, barely wide enough for a man’s hand, but I squeeze through, folding my wings and bones with practiced ease.
Inside, the corridor is dim, the air ripe with candle smoke and old stone. I cling to the ceiling, scanning for movement.
A servant passes, a basket on her hip, humming a dirge. She doesn’t look up. I wait until she’s vanished down the stairs, then glide up to the landing outside the tower door.
King Gallagher is as arrogant as he is stupid. There are no guards on her door, nothing but a lock and the dark magic he hides behind, confident it’ll keep her caged, protect him, and keep us out. Perhaps that was true once. But like recognizes like, and he shaped us with the same magic he now tries to hide behind.
Rune’s magic coats the lock, the faint blue veins threading through the iron, weakening the old man’s spell. I shift back to my human form, setting my palm against the wood.
I’m naked now, but there’s nothing I can do about that at the moment.
The king’s magic hums, eager to bite, but like always, it recognizes kin. Or maybe it just knows defeat when it feels it.
The latch clicks open with a small sigh.
The room inside makes my blood boil—bare walls, a cot, a tiny table. For a man who swears he means only to protect Raisa, he treats her like a broken little doll. He deserves to die bloody for it.
Moonlight falls on a blanket on the floor. I see her cowering beneath it, shivering. She’s smaller than she was just days ago, her gorgeous curves withering away, her hair a tangle of black across her face and shoulders. Her skin glows in the moonlight, pale and perfect, marred only by the blue shadows under her eyes. She holds Shade’s feather in one fist, so tight her knuckles are white.
She doesn’t see me at first.
I take two silent steps and crouch before her, careful not to startle her. I speak low, as softly as I can. “Princess.”
She looks up.
The feather falls from her hand. Her eyes widen, stormy and beautiful. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll scream. Instead, her lips part in awe, hope spilling across her face.
“You came for me,” she whispers.
I smile, the way I practiced a hundred times in the mirror. “Of course we did.”
She unfolds slowly, pressing a palm to her forehead as if unsure whether this is another dream. “I thought…I wished…but I wasn’t sure–”
“Wish granted,” I say, and for a second, I sound more like Sable than myself.
She stands, shaky, her nightgown twisting around her hips. I force myself not to look at her legs, the thick cream of her thighs, or the flush rising to her cheeks. I keep my eyes on hers.
“Are you real?” she asks, her voice trembling.
I extend my hand. “Come with me. I’ll prove it.”
She takes it, her fingers small and cold as they cling to mine. The contact sends a pulse through me, fierce and bright. My stomach tightens with something hungry and ancient, but I push it down.
“Can you walk?” I ask.
She nods, a little too fast, then steps forward and nearly collapses. I catch her by the waist, holding her upright. She’s heavier than she looks, all softness and curves. She smells like honeysuckle and fear.
Her face is inches from mine. She stares, unblinking.
I want to kiss her, right here in the cell, but I know better. If I do, we won’t leave. I’ll have her pinned to the door, to the floor, fucking her until she screams.
