Page 87 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
The world holds its breath as we step forward, all eight of us prepared to face the past and live—or die—together.
16
Death's Touch
Raisa
The castle is afamiliar, jagged scar across the landscape as we approach, the gray stone and crooked towers jutting into the sky like a scream. From out here, it looks exactly like the prison it always was for me—cold and unwelcoming.
Shade walks at my side, all tension and focus, like a blade barely sheathed. The others fan out behind us, every step a measured threat, every face locked in grim determination.
I stare at the castle instead of looking back at them. If I do, if I see them, I’ll falter. My heart’s already hammering so hard I can feel it in my fingers, each pulse like a warning.
The bridge is slick with frost, the cobbles black and silver in the inky dawn light. The high walls press in, ancient and pitted, older than any of us. Our breath steams in the air, curling and dissipating before it reaches the sky.
There are no banners, no sentries, nothing but the waiting dark.
We know it’s a trap.
We walk into it anyway.
The courtyard door creaks as we push it open, the sound loud enough to raise the dead. Shade goes first, his hand on my lower back, steering me inside.
I want to shake him off, to stride in like I own the place, but I don’t. I let him touch me. I need it, even if I’d never admit it. This place scares me just as much now as it ever has. I’ll never admit that, either.
Inside, the courtyard is emptier than I’ve ever seen it. Even the animals are gone, nothing but eerie silence and the cold waiting for us.
My steps threaten to falter, but I force myself to keep moving forward. I brought them here. This was my idea. I can’t lose my courage now.
I want to run, though. I want to run and never look back, pretend this place and my father don’t exist.
We reach the center of the courtyard before the silence shatters. Doors along the perimeter burst open—first one, then three, then all of them.
Guards pour out, swords drawn, shields raised, their faces hidden behind visors and black cloth. There are dozens—no, more. More than I’ve ever seen in one place, more than I thought the castle could hold.
They don’t shout. They don’t bluster. They just fan out, forming a wall of steel and spite. The only sound is the scrape of metal on stone, the hush of boots on the ice.
Sir Edmond stands at their front. His armor gleams, every plate polished to a mirror, his face the same sneer I remember from the last time he dragged me through the halls. It feels like two lifetimes ago, now. He holds his sword at an angle, the tip pointed at my throat.
“Princess Raisa.” He spits the words, making them an insult. “Your father sends his regards. Surrender yourself, and I’ll spare these animals the fate they deserve.”
I feel my brothers tense behind me. Sable’s laughter is a dry, broken cough. Bran mutters something under his breath. Grim’s fingers flex on the hilt of his knife.
Shade steps forward, planting himself between me and Edmond. His voice is low, almost gentle, but it carries across the ice like a crack of thunder.
“Come take her if you think you can.”
Edmond’s eyes narrow. The guards shift, a ripple of anticipation running through their ranks.
I reach for my magic, feeling it pool in my hands, hot and alive. I want to burn him. I want to burn all of them, cover the courtyard in a hot spray of blood and death. But I wait for the signal, the first move, the moment when everything turns red.
For a second, nothing happens. The world holds its breath again.
Then Edmond smiles. “Very well,” he says. “Have it your way.”
The guards raise their swords in perfect unison. The brothers square off, shoulders brushing and teeth bared.
Shade’s body vibrates with fury, his hand curled into a fist.
