Page 4 of Shadows so Cruel

It ripped us sideways under piercing pain as our muscles burned, screamed. We fell from the sky, scrambling our wings to catch whatever breeze drifted us toward those trees as we sank low, lower still. Needles scraped through our feathers. Falling snow settled on our bodies, wearing us down. Our claws frantically scratched on the trunk, searching for hold.

There was none.

Our talons skittered down along the gnarled bark. The world spun into a blur until, in several thuds, the chilling blanket of snow swallowed us whole. A sudden force erupted inside us, twisting and writhing, ricocheting through us in a wave of needles that pricked our skin.

All color faded from the world.

I squinted against the blinding whiteness that seemed to come from all around me. My lungs wheezed, dragging in sharp, icy air as the cold crept through the shadowcloth of my dress. A shudder wracked through me, my head sparking with the onslaught of questions. What had happened? Where was I?

No!

Whatwas I?

A white Raven.

A soft whimper tumbled from my lips, vanishing into the frosty air. My mind twisted and turned, wrestling with the brain-numbing echo of that answer, seeking any strand of rationality in this unraveling madness. I was no Raven, I couldn’t be. I was Galantia of the House Brisden, for fuck’s sake, the only living daughter of Lord and Lady Brisden!

Something tickled my temple.

My trembling fingers reached for it, pulling a single, frail, creamy white feather from my face. Nothing but a coincidence. It could have come from anywhere. A pillow, or an empty nest in the branches above, or… or…

I had nothing else, no matter how desperately I clung to the stuttering edges of my sanity, searching for comfort in ignorance. And hadn’t I sworn that off? I’d spent my entire life being ignorant, and what had it gotten me?

Betrayal and lies.

Most recently, heartbreak.

There is no love for you here. Not from me. Not from him. There is no love for you anywhere.Malyr’s words drifted on the whispering breeze that chapped my lips, making me clench my eyes shut against the hot flood of tears. This was all too much for my heart and head to reconcile. How could I have been so stupid?

And Sebian…

My heart clenched at the thought of him, the place where love should have bloomed now a desolate void of nothing but pain. It hurt. Gods, it hurt…

I didn’t know how long I laid like this, sensing new tears run over the bridge of my nose and down the other side. Too long. What was I even crying about? A great love lost? How pathetic I was, indeed…

I wiped my eyes on the shoulder of my dress and pushed myself up to stand. Malyr might have finally broken me, but I was not dead, not yet at least. He might have failed to kill me, but the cold wouldn’t. Where in the seven hells was I?

Blinking away the blur, my gaze roamed over the landscape. There, in the gray haze of the horizon, loomed the silhouette of Tidestone’s outer bailey. The road from Glosten—or perhaps, from the southern farms, it was hard to tell with the snow—carved a path toward one of the gates. I was safe.

Or was I?

I became instinctually aware of the brittle shaft of the feather still clasped between my thumb and forefinger, each second I remained still in silent contemplation driving up my pulse. Was it wise to return to Tidestone?A Raven?How could this even be? Did Father know? Unlikely. Mother? If she even was that…

One more glance about the endlessly white landscape. I dropped the feather, fighting my feet forward through the calf-high snow. If returning home was a smart choice, I couldn’t say, but Ididknow that staying out here—with no patron, no gold, no nothing—was stupid. Neither would I return to Deepmarsh.

I trudged through the snow, each step a laborious effort, sinking into the thick white blanket. Tidestone’s sturdy stone structures steadily grew larger as I stumbled and stomped, their presence a tangible reminder of the strength and resilience that had kept our family standing for centuries. But were they even my family?

Whowas I?

My steps slowed with each additional question. By the time I approached the gate, where a guard stood rather close to a maid with his face buried in the crook of her neck, exhaustion gnawed on my burning muscles.

The maid’s eyes snapped to me, and she quickly gave the guard’s shoulder a pat, alerting him of my presence.

He turned to face me, his uniform carrying the pale green patches of Tidestone. “Who goes there?”

“Lady G-Galantia of House Brisden.” Probably. “Daughter of Lord and Lady B-brisden.” Probably not. Could Father have sired me on a Raven woman? Yes, but I doubted that he would let such a child live, let alone raise it. And Mother? Had she laid with a Raven?Wasshe a white Raven? I didn’t know enough about white Ravens to tell, and there would be no answers out here. “Tell Lord B-Brisden his d-daughter is at the—”

“You think any wench can just come up here and try to get behind the gates?” the guard asked with an insulted scoff. “Lady Galantia left over two months ago—”

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