Page 45 of A Court of Ravens
Trust. It’s a loaded word, wrapped in barbed wire, but right now, it feels like the only rope keeping me from drowning. “Are there more secrets you haven’t told me?”
“There’s something you don’t know about the courts,” Niall says, his voice careful, like he’s stepping over broken glass. “They weren’t always seven.”
I blink. “What?”
“There used to be eight.”
A cold shiver works its way down my spine, an instinct deeper than fear. “And what happened to the eighth?”
“No one knows,” he says, but there’s something tight in his voice. Like hedoesknow. Or at least, he has a damn good guess. “Or no one will admit to it. Their magic vanished. Their lands became the in-between. Some say they were slaughtered in the last great war. Others whisper that they went into hiding.” His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine. “The magic that crawled out of your skin, the shadows that wrecked that bedroom? That wasn’tjustCrimson Court. I’ve fought their kind. I know the feel of it. Yours isn’t just bending to your will—it’sclaimingspace, taking what it wants. Yourdraíochtis older.”
A lump forms in my throat. “So what are you saying?”
He doesn’t look away. “I think you might be a descendant. And if that’s true? Then we have bigger problems than the bond,a stór.”
“Like?” I whisper.
His fingers trace my collarbone, then drag lower, his touch grazing the mark above my heart. It burns—not painfully, but like a whisper of something ancient that recognizes his touch and answers. Niall frowns, rubbing his thumb over it like he’s trying toreadit. “This?” His voice is rough, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s about to say. Then he pushes back his hair, exposing the ink curling over his throat.
I stare. A raven, ink-black with silver edges, its wings curling over his skin.
Something about it makes my pulse stutter. “What does that mean?”
Niall doesn’t answer at first. His jaw works, his fingers pressing harder against my mark like he’s trying toundoit. “That’s not—” He cuts off, exhaling sharply through his nose. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”
A sharp prickle crawls down my spine. “What’s not?”
“The bond.” His voice drops lower, and something in his expression flickers between disbelief and vulnerability. “When we claim a mate,ourmark appears onthem.But this?” His fingers brush his throat again, his lips pressing into a thin line. “This isyourmark.”
I go still. “That’s…bad, isn’t it?”
His silence is answer enough.
I swallow. Hard. “Okay. Say Iamsome lost descendant of the eighth court. Say that’s why the bond isn’t working the way it should. What the hell does thatmean, Niall?”
His amber eyes darken. “It means you’re not just bound to me. You markedmeback.”
The air shifts, heavier, charged with something I don’t understand butfeelall the way to my bones.
“And if that’s possible,” he continues, voice rough, “then we don’t just have a bond.” His fingers tighten slightly on my skin. “We have a war coming.”
I can’t help but wonder how my half-sister fits into this twisted encyclopedia of the enchanted, or worse, what my family might have known and kept from me. “And what? I’m supposed to accept that you’re some fae prince and if we don’t play nice, the world goes up in flames?”
He sighs, dragging a hand through his hair in a way that would be annoyingly attractive if I weren’t already pissed. “My world is real. And it’s falling apart.”
I swallow hard. “So, what? I’m a…what, a key to Armageddon?”
Niall steps closer, his amber eyes locked on mine. “It’s bigger than you or me. This is about the survival of the fae, the Ironlands, and the fragile balance between our worlds.”
The room tilts, and I grip the back of a chair to steady myself. “No pressure.”
His grimace is almost apologetic, but not quite. “I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye, Shadow Witch. I know I’ve broken your trust, but we need to figure this out together.”
“More than meets the eye?” I echo, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Niall doesn’t flinch. “Your connection to the shadows says you’re one of us, or at least part of you is. If you let me, I can help you find out the truth.”
Curiosity claws at me, battling with my frustration and the sting of betrayal. I can’t help myself. “Fine. But if you ever pull that memory-wipe stunt again, we’re going to have words. Loud, magical words. I may not know how to use my shadows unless I’m…y’know, very happy, but once I do, I’ll make you regret it.”
