The Roost felt like the warmth of fire in the midst of cold winter. The stone walls were familiar and welcoming, and after spending the last days trekking through the frozen north, Risens took a beat to sit on the steps of the Raven Statue.

  He’d been betrayed—not just by the assassins, Korpis, Feylen, and Orio, who were now dead, but by the very man to whom Risens had devoted his life. King Lathrenon had commanded his companions to murder him, far away from prying eyes and in a foreign land where his death would go unnoticed.

  Why then had the King allowed Bakka and Destra to join the company? Were they too tasked with his demise or had they been truthful?

  When given the chance to stab him in the back, they’d instead heeded his dismissal. They would return to Windwake soon enough, and Risens would track them down and put them to question.

  Until then, Risens was in the closest place to home he had, and now, he contemplated his next move as the stone ravens watched him with judgmental stares.

  The temptation to remain here, to attempt another trial, earn another skill, was strong. Yet in every endeavor, he had needed a raven’s feather. Without one, the feat would likely be futile.

  Furthermore, though relatively trivial, he needed new clothing. His training had allowed him to blend into the city’s environment, drawing little to no attention to himself. Still, his tattered clothing, beyond the confines of Broad Quarter, would draw unwanted attention.

  Although he’d been healed of all wounds back in the ravine by the mountainside, he rose from his seat feeling heavy, weary, and in need of rest. With all those goals in mind, he crossed the Roost. Reaching the portal that would take him back to the Raven’s Court, he stopped.

  Several of the windSteps that led him back to the main tunnel beneath the hedge maze had been closed in the wake of his attempted assassination. Accessing his hidden quarters in the castle would assuredly be noted and reported to the King. If his experiences in the Roost held true—time proving to be irrelevant while he labored at the whims of its varied tests—and the same was true of the magical place he’d been ushered to by ravens, even if he’d lingered in the ravine for several days, his return to the city would not be expected so soon.

  The reasoning behind the lack of transportation for their return was now glaring. Why have him travel across hundreds of miles on a quest to assassinate a foreign warlord without a means to return him home? He did not doubt that some convenient mode of transportation would be waiting for Orio and Feylen.

  They would not be leaving any time soon.

  May they rot in the bowels of Pylkev.

  Risens knew that he would have days to kill, yet he had no intention of spending the time in idle rest. Securing new clothing would be his priority. Thankfully, there were several discrete vendors from which he could procure fitting attire, where his lack of funds would be no hindrance. All were on some sort of retainer with the crown, though he knew of a few whose duplicitous dealings would earn them an elongated and brutal execution should their misdeeds be discovered.

  Beyond that, he felt the unexpected urge to check in on Tawny and Marlaine. Both were strong and competent women, bound like him to a bizarre twist of fate. He rarely gave much thought to the repercussions of his actions, yet he felt a surprising amount of guilt that both were now entwined in this chaos. It was by no fault of their own that they had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time when their paths had crossed his.

  It was a strange feeling, plotting his own tasks while hiding from the crown that had trained him and granted him access to nearly all that he was. Lathrenon’s rule had protected Risens as a child, forging him in the fires of war, molding him into the killer he was today. Even though he was sure it was the King who’d ordered his death, his planned actions sent a shiver down his spine.

  The path he would now walk, if any word of it were to come to light, would ensure his exile from the only life he’d ever known. He would tell the king that the others had died in a rockslide—it was true, after all. He would offer no indication that he’d uncovered the King’s plot, nor that he’d confront the trio. He would milk the benefits of his station as long as he could maintain the ruse, understanding that every quest he was assigned was likely the next trap set for his death.

  As strange as it sounded, he was looking forward to a few moments of downtime. It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d infiltrated Lady Myrenas’s estate, stealing the coded pages that bore his title. He’d received the cipher from Fendri, the King’s steward, before departing for Shial, though with his deadly company, there had been no time to puzzle out any meaning.

  With a tentative and dangerous path laid out before him, he bid the watching ravens farewell with a wave of his hand before stepping through the portal.

  The crushing weight, infinite chill, and terrifying speed seemed dramatically less potent this time as he stepped out into the Raven’s Court. The long, harsh shadows of early evening had fallen over the city, casting a deep shadow over most of the small courtyard. With her back turned to him, Mother Raven’s hunched figure was silhouetted in the crumbling entranceway.

  “The winds have returned you far sooner than expected, fledgling,” she crowed without turning to greet him. “By the grace of wings that were not your own.”

  “Early?” Risens asked. “How long have I been absent?”

  “The sun has but risen five times since you entered the mountains,” she replied, turning to face him this time. She moved slowly across the court, brushing past him to the long-dead fountain and stagnant pool in the corner. He noted the hitch in her step, a slight limp that he’d not seen before.

  He was about to respond to her words when a more profound mystery dawned on him. “How did you know where I was?”

  With the sound of flapping wings, she was at his side, slowly circling him.

  “Eyes are used for seeing as ears are for listening, are they not?” she whispered. Her breath was hot on his neck, and it sent his skin into goose pimples. “There is little of note that escapes my sight.”

  He hadn’t been home from her presence long, but in that short time, he’d forgotten how frustrating her answers could be—riddles and puzzles better suited for school children than this.

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  “Then teach me. Share the knowledge so that I may learn, or stop torturing me!”

  She stopped by his side, offering no response, but eyeing him with a curious look that he couldn’t quite place. Immediately, he regretted the outburst. In his weariness, he’d nearly forgotten that this odd woman stood as one of the few remaining in Windwake whose company he could keep without the fear of a dagger in his spine.

  He shook his shoulders, releasing the guarded posture he’d adapted. “My apologies. It’s just that your cryptic responses only add more questions to my initial inquiries.”

  She began her slow hobble again, this time stopping when she reached his front. For a few breaths, she continued her mysterious glare, cocking her head to the side.

  When, finally, she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soothing. “Ah, in that, young fledgling, as with most things, we have a difference of opinion. As children do, you seek easy solutions, convenient answers, ones that do not torture youwith questions.”

  Hearing his own words spoken back to him caused him to blush in embarrassment. He was grateful for the Shadows Shroud masking his features.

  “You’ve been taught to rely on your blade when the mind is a far more capable weapon,” she continued. “Were you to be granted skill without effort, be provided answers without first forming the connections in your mind, you would reap only hollow rewards.”

  The Dull Wind took her to the opposite corner of the Raven’s Court. Her posture exuded an unexpected sadness as she peered at the long-dead bed of plants along the wall’s edge.

  “This was once a place of such majesty. If only the brewing storm would bring rain. I fear that it will only usher in fire and ash.” She sighed. “Raven Rightmaker, I exist to be your guide, and will give you nothing you have not earned.”

  Her use of the name he’d given the assassins back at Breakker’s Pass caused the air to hitch in his lungs. Was she truly aware of all things?

  “I will nudge you from the nest,” she said. “But I cannot flap your wings for you. You will need to fly sooner than you will be ready, I’m afraid.”

  The statement took Risens aback. He knew his trials were preparing him for something, yet he knew not what. Again, he had the distinct impression that the true test would not be merely the drought or the political machinations of a violent and wicked king. Before he could question her meaning, she intruded upon his thoughts.

  “I have for you a task, fledgling. I need you to collect something.”

  “Am I no more than an errand boy?” Despite his words, his curiosity was piqued, though much of his frustration had yet to fade. “Why can you not collect it yourself?”

  She turned back, affixing him with an icy stare. In truth, he was surprised and relieved not to feel the pressure of her blade against his throat once again.

  “It is a task meant for you, not me.” Her words were cold, biting through him with a chill far deeper than he’d experienced in the icy peaks of the mountains. “Nobility is a calling that goes far beyond a mere title. One can be noble without the privilege of birth. Few who possess status truly earn it. They are content to be spoon-fed answers as if the requirement of thought is beneath them.”

  “I understand,” he said, though it was a lie.

  She shook her head. “No, you do not. And that is alright. There is a place within these city walls where the false sentiment of nobility is encouraged under the guise of teaching.”

  “Excelsior.” Risens groaned.

  “Perhaps you do listen.” The corners of her lips pulled upward ever so slightly. “They have long possessed an item that has never belonged to them. It is a jeweled egg— fragile and delicate. It demands the incubation of its rightful owner. Return it to me.”

  On occasion, Risens had had the opportunity to skulk around the grounds of the heavily guarded academy. He agreed with her assessment of the general character of the population that moved through its opulent halls, as if it were the very presence of these people that made it grand.

  “How will I find it?” he asked.

  “The vain are not always so quick to show off their treasures,” she replied. “None will hold your hand and, as such, you forge ahead, making your own destiny.”

  “In other words, you don’t know?”

  “Knowing and perceiving are different.” She held up a hand to stop Risens’ further interruptions. “You have recently acquired a pair of friends. Perhaps they will be of use. However, consider leaving the Talons in their sheaths. Their lust is far less than gentle.”

  She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, dipping her head. It was a genuine, albeit surprising act from the usually prickly woman.

  An instant later, she flapped into the darkening firmament above.

  As he watched her retreating silhouette, he pondered her words.

  A pair of friends? Bakka and Destra? He would hardly call them friends, merely members of his company who hadn’t decided to kill him when the chance presented itself. Besides, if he were early, they would still be days away at best.

  His gaze rolled over the decaying remains of the Raven’s Court. He had never cared much for architecture. Its decorative features sparked no genuine interest beyond providing avenues for him to climb during the dark task he was currently set upon. As he viewed the dilapidated court, he wondered what it would have looked like in its full majesty. With the true purpose of it known to him, how many people would have frequented it at the height of its grandeur? The Brand it bestowed was exceedingly rare.

  It was curious that King Lathrenon had forbidden anyone from seeking its blessing. There was nothing here. Why go through the effort to bar access to a Shrine that no one would benefit from?

  His eyes turned to the sky for a moment. Perhaps one day, if it rained again, it could wash the dirt and grime, as well as his dried blood, from the stones. He surprised himself with the thought. Manual labor was never his station, yet if time allowed, he would consider making an exception.

  He shook off the peculiar thought as he adjusted the tatters of his cloak. Stealth would be more critical now than ever. His presence in the city would demand questions that he was unwilling to answer. Were any in the King’s employ to recognize him nearly a week in advance of his expected arrival, there would be problems.

  The questions of the Dreamcatchers still swirled in his mind as well. He’d learned nothing of the organization during the quest for the Warlord. Fendri had provided the cipher, yet time hadn’t allowed him to decode any of the text bearing his title. With a new task at hand, he expected it would still be some time before he could make the effort.

  Risens stopped as he reached the gate of the Raven’s Court. Perhaps the birds could be of some assistance to him now. Like each of the other skills, they were limited in scope, growing as he used their abilities throughout his tasks. He’d noted none of the symbols that denote a countdown when he’d called for their assistance in the ravine. The area was connected, at least through a portal, to the Roost where the limitations didn’t apply. With the sun still up and other affairs to attend to before making his way to His Excellence, he could afford a period of cooldown now. Leaning his head back, he cupped his hand to his mouth, calling for their assistance.

  It was again an awkward sensation hearing the sound of a bird’s call issue from his lips, yet the peculiarities of his life now seemed to surround every action he undertook. His eyes scanned the cloudless sky, watching for any signs of the ravens’ approach. He didn’t have long to wait.

  Flying side by side, the birds entered his view from the east, darting high over the top of the wall before circling as they descended to the court below. They alighted side by side on the top of the crumbling arched entranceway. Both offered a dip of their bodies, which looked almost like a bow, as they focused their attention on him.

  For a moment, he watched the ravens as they stared at him. There was an intensity to their intelligent gazes. They seemed to be appraising him as they waited. The top of the stone where they stayed was partially concealed in shadows, yet they appeared to glow with a peculiar aura. It was faint, like light reflecting off the sheen of their feathers, though it was a dull green. The peculiarity of their appearance aside, he didn’t know if they would understand him, yet if they were bound to his summons, he expected that it would be true.

  “I need to move undetected through the city.” He was surprised to find himself talking to a pair of birds, though he’d accepted that the Raven Talons, the blades strapped to his hips, could communicate with him; that birds could do it was far less strange. “Show me a path where none will see me.”

  With a shrill reply, the ravens took to flight.