The Raven Who Mocked The Lycan King

Ten minutes.

That’s how lang I flew efter Ewan went doon.

Ten minutes tae kill the smile on ma mooth. Ten minutes tae build a face that looked like grief instead o’ what it actually was.

The rain came sideways off the North Sea. Needles in ma feathers.

Cauld. Sharp. Scottish.

Exactly what I deserved.

I didnae look back.

No’ when I heard the branches break. No’ when I heard him hit. No’ when the canopy swallowed him whole and the sky went quiet.

A guid wife wouldae circled. A guid wife wouldae dove. A guid wife wouldae torn her ain wings apart tryin’ tae reach him.

I circled twice.

Then I flew hame.

The Nightwing estate. Grey stone on the northeast coast. Paid for by messenger work for Lycan families who wanted tough birds over pretty ones.

The Nightwings wereae classy.

But they got the job done.

I landed in the garden. Shifted.

Feathers intae skin. Skin intae fabric. Dark threads knittin’ themselves intae a black dress that clung tae ma wet body. Wings foldin’ intae ma back. The scar on ma left wing noo a thin white line alang ma shoulder blade.

Bare feet in the mud. Hair stuck tae ma face. Heart hammerin’.

I ran for the front door.

It was unlocked.

It was always unlocked.

The Nightwings were too proud tae think anyone would rob them.

I slammed through. Water pooled aroond ma feet.

“Ewan!” I screamed. “Ewan’s been shot!”

The hoose went quiet.

Then footsteps.

Then the Nightwings came frae their rooms like rats frae holes.

Lowgen first. Ewan’s brither. Big. Dumb. Loyal the way dogs are loyal tae other dogs.

Instinct over brains.

Riona behind him. Holdin’ a bairn that started cryin’ at the soond o’ ma voice.

She flinched.

She always flinched at loud noises.

I’d seen her flinch aroond Lowgen too.

I never said onythin’.

Neither did she.

Garrick. Ewan’s faither. Risin’ frae his chair wi’ a grunt.

One eye clouded wi’ cataracts. The other sharp.

He took one look at me. Wet. Shakin’. Wild-eyed.

His jaw set.

And then Mairi.

Mairi Nightwing. Ewan’s mither.

She came oot o’ the kitchen wipin’ her hands on a cloth.

Slow. Steady.

She didnae rush. She didnae gasp.

She just looked at me.

“Shot,” she said.

No’ a question.

A word dropped like a stane intae deep water.

I nodded. Water dripped frae ma hair.

“Hunters. In the eastern woods. He went doon in the trees. I couldnae—”

Ma voice broke.

I let it.

“I couldnae get tae him in time.”

Mairi’s eyes moved doon ma body. The wet dress. The bare feet. The shakin’.

She studied me the way a hawk studies a rabbit.

Patient. Waitin’. Lookin’ for the limp that gives away the lie.

“You were flyin’ wi’ him,” she said.

“Aye.”

“You were the last one wi’ him.”

“Aye.”

“And you were on his blind side.”

Ma stomach tightened.

“I was ahead o’ him. I didnae see the hunter. I didnae see him go doon.”

Mairi’s mooth thinned.

She didnae blink. She didnae move.

She just stood there. Cloth in her hands. Watchin’ me wi’ a look that said she’d already decided what happened the nicht.

And nothin’ I said would change it.

“And you just left him there,” she said.

Low. Controlled.

The kind o’ calm that comes before violence.

“He went doon hard. Through the canopy. I heard the branches break. I heard him hit. There was nae way he lived through that.”

“You didnae look.”

“I circled twice—”

“You circled twice.” She took a step closer. The cloth dropped frae her hands. “You circled twice and then you flew hame. Ten minutes. That’s all it took ye. Ten minutes frae ma son hittin’ the trees tae ye walkin’ through ma door.”

“I came tae get help—”

“You came tae get yer story straight.”

Her voice didnae rise. It got quieter.

That was worse.

“You’ve been waitin’ for this since the day ye married him.”

Lowgen stepped forward. “Mum—”

“Haud yer wheesht.” She didnae look at him. “I watched ye. I watched ye for a year. The way ye looked at him. The way ye talked tae him. The way ye flew beside him and always on his left. Always on his blind side. Like ye were keepin’ him in the dark.”

Always on his left.

She was right.

Every flight. Every single flight for a year.

The side he couldnae see.

The side where I could watch him without him watchin’ back.

I telt masel it was habit.

But Mairi was watchin’ me noo. And the way her eyes cut intae me said she didnae believe it was habit either.

Ma hands shook.

I clenched them at ma sides.

The bruise on ma rib throbbed under the wet dress. The one Ewan had gien me three days ago when I’d burned his dinner.

I’d worn a high collar for twa days.

Naebody noticed.

Naebody ever noticed.

“He was ma mate,” I said.

“He was yer sentence,” Mairi said. “And noo he’s dead. And ye walked through ma door dry-eyed and shakin’ like a bird that’s been sittin’ in a tree for ten minutes decidin’ what story tae tell.”

“Oh, och, gie it a rest.”

I threw ma hands up.

Ma voice went loud and sharp. The way it always did when someone got too close.

“I just watched him drop oot o’ the sky! I just flew hame in a bloody gale tryin’ tae figure oot how I’m gonna tell his family he’s dead. And ye’re standin’ there giein’ me the evil eye like I planned it? Like I woke up this mornin’ and thocht, ‘Aye, today’s a guid day tae lose ma mate’?”

I stepped closer.

“Ye’re oot o’ yer mind, Mairi. Ye’re pure oot o’ yer mind.”

“Aye,” Mairi said. “That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’.”

“Weel then, congratu-freakin’-lations, ye’ve got a theory. Want a medal? Want me tae pin it on yer chest? I’m sure they hand those oot for accusin’ yer dochter-in-law before the body’s even cauld.”

I tilted ma head.

“What a woman ye are. What a bloody saint.”

“Ye done?” Mairi asked.

“No, I’m no’ done! I’m nowhere near done!”

Ma voice cracked higher. Sharper.

“I’ve been married tae yer son for a year. A year o’ him snorin’ in ma ear and leavin’ his crap all over the hoose and ye ringin’ me every five minutes askin’ if I’ve made his dinner yet. And noo he’s gane and the first thing ye dae is look at me like I’m the one who pulled the trigger?”

I stared at her.

“What kind o’ person does that? What kind o’ mither does that?”

“The kind o’ mither who kens her son,” Mairi said. “And the kind o’ mither who kens ye.”

“Ye dinnae ken me. Ye never wanted tae ken me. Ye wanted a servant. Ye wanted someone tae cook and clean and smile pretty when yer son brought his mates roond tae drink and stink up the place.”

I laughed. Sharp. Ugly.

“Ye wanted a doormat wi’ wings. Weel, congratulations, Mairi. Yer son married a doormat. And noo the doormat’s standin’ in yer hallway wet and cauld and ye’re lookin’ at her like she’s the villain.”

Ma voice cracked on the last word.

I swallowed hard.

Ma eyes burned but nothin’ fell.

I hadnae cried in front o’ the Nightwings yet.

I wasnae aboot tae start noo.

Mairi watched me.

Somethin’ flickered across her face. No’ sympathy. No’ quite.

Somethin’ closer tae recognition.

The look o’ a woman who had been young once. Married once. Learned things she never talked aboot either.

But it passed.

Her jaw set again.

“Ye married him,” she said. “For better or worse.”

“Aye,” I said. “And it was worse. It was a lot worse. But I stayed. I stayed because that’s what mates dae.”

I looked her dead in the eyes.

“So dinnae ye stand there and tell me I wanted this.”

Garrick moved.

The auld man crossed the hallway wi’ surprisin’ speed for his age. Put himsel between his wife and me.

No’ tae protect me.

Tae hold Mairi back.

“Enough,” he said. Gravel voice. “The boy’s dead. We find him first. We ask questions later.”

“There’s naethin’ tae find,” I said.

Everyone looked at me.

I swallowed.

“He went doon hard. Through the canopy. I heard the branches break. I heard him hit. There’s nae way he lived through that.”

Mairi’s face didnae change.

But somethin’ shifted behind her eyes.

Somethin’ cauld. Final.

“Then we bring him hame,” she said. “And then we talk.”

Garrick nodded tae Lowgen.

“Get the men. Eastern woods. Past the ridge.”

Lowgen handed the bairn tae Riona and left without a word.

The front door slammed behind him.

Rain blew in through the gap before it closed.

Riona hesitated.

She looked at me.

For a moment, somethin’ passed between us. Somethin’ unspoken.

Her eyes dropped tae ma collarbone. Where the edge o’ a bruise peeked above the dress line.

Then she looked away.

Clutched her bairn tighter.

Slipped past me without a word.

I didnae move.

I’d seen her look.

I’d seen her see.

And I’d seen her choose no’ tae see.

That was fine.

I’d been choosin’ no’ tae see for a year too.

The hallway went quiet.

Mairi picked up the cloth frae the floor. Folded it. Set it on the table by the door.

Every movement slow. Controlled.

“Ye’re no’ goin’ anywhere,” she said. “Ye’re stayin’ in this hoose until ma son is brought hame. And then ye’re gonna tell me exactly what happened in that sky.”

I opened ma mooth.

“Dinnae.” Her voice was a blade. “Dinnae say another word until I ask ye a question. Because everythin’ ye say frae noo on, I’m gonna remember. And I’m gonna use it.”

She turned and walked back tae the kitchen.

Garrick looked at me.

His guid eye was sad. His bad eye saw nothin’.

He just shook his head and followed his wife.

I stood alane in the hallway.

Wet. Shakin’.

The fire in the sittin’ room crackled. Rain hit the windaes.

I pressed ma back against the wa’ and slid doon until I was sittin’ on the cauld widden floor.

Ma dress was soaked. Ma feet were muddy.

The scar on ma left shoulder blade throbbed in the damp.

The bruise on ma rib ached.

The bruise on ma hip ached.

The one on ma arm, hidden under the sleeve, ached too.

I closed ma eyes.

The hoose settled aroond me. Creakin’ pipes. Drippin’ taps. Wind against the windaes.

Nae Ewan.

Nae shoutin’. Nae fists. Nae soond o’ his boots on the stairs at twa in the mornin’.

Just quiet.

I sat there.

Breathin’.

Thinkin’.

Ten minutes in the sky.

That’s what Mairi said.

Ten minutes frae her son hittin’ the trees tae me walkin’ through her door.

She made it soond like a confession.

Like ten minutes was proof o’ somethin’.

Maybe it was.

I opened ma eyes.

Stared at the ceilin’.

What actually happened in those woods?

What happened in those ten minutes?

I ken.

I ken what happened.

And Mairi would never stop until she kent too.

The question was whether she’d find the truth.

Or whether I’d bury it first.