Chapter 1
The darkness had always been my friend. Only my thoughts and desires kept me company during those inky midnight hours when good girls slept and bad men prowled. It was the only time I could be myself, my true self, the time when I whispered the words I wanted to say during the day and couldn’t, and when I could unleash the anger and grief that had kept me captive for so long, with me as the only witness.
Or Mist. My secrets were safe with the raven.
Moonlight spilled into the room, the soft breeze rippling the gauzy curtains some nameless servant had placed long ago. I lost count of all the people who’d marched in and out of this room, making everything just so. Nothing was too good for the Princess of Marianas. Unless it was something I wanted, then everyone scrutinized it until I either got frustrated and blew up about it, resulting in an automatic no, or gave up. Most times, I relented. I knew what I wanted didn’t align with their vision for me–a pink, lovely, mindless princess fit only to breed heirs.
Mist paced, a dark, bobbing presence in the moon’s shimmering light, and trilled a mournful tune, lulling me to sleep the same as he had for the last two years. I lay on my side, both hands resting on my cheek, and watched as he fluffed his feathers and preened. A sleepy smile drifted over my lips.
“Hello, Mist,” I whispered into the dark. He never spoke, but a keen intellect sparked in its eyes as if the creature understood the things I whispered into the silence. The raven might be more perceptive than some humans in my life, which wasn’t saying much for some of them.
His name had floated into my mind one night and stuck. I never saw him arrive, and I rarely saw him leave, but he came at least two times a week. When he didn’t show, I missed him like a phantom ache, though I could never figure out why. He was a bird, wasn’t he? A particularly clever one, yes, but a bird all the same. Every night I lay in bed, anticipating the soft, low trill of his song, and when the telltale whisper of his wings failed to sound, I found my nights full of restless dreams.
Mist’s feathers were dark as night in some places, so black the moonlight reflected vivid blue against them. In others, on his chest and tail, his feathers were the color of smoke.
Of mist.
His darkness soaked in the moonlight, lining him in a silvery haze. Mist was beautiful, but I wondered why he came here, to me. I was a princess, but I resided over a minor kingdom, nothing special politically, although we controlled a major goods port in the Sarayan Sea, which gave us some leverage. There were other more glorious girls to visit, all closer to the mainland than me. I wondered if he’d like that. At my look, Mist lifted his beak and made a curling twitter, as if to admonish me for the direction my thoughts had veered.
“Today was a good day,” I sighed, reigning in my maudlin thoughts. “Mother and Father signed a treaty to bring goods from the east back into our lands.”
The bird shivered against the calm wind blowing through the flimsy curtains. Ever since Mist started coming to my window, I kept it open no matter the season, much to the consternation of Nanette, who swore one day I’d die of the ague. Whatever that was. I wouldn’t shut Mist out, no matter the season, and when Nanette came in and shut my windows each day, I reopened them as soon as I made it back to my room.
“This means cinnamon and cloves and those wonderful, heated spices Magda loves.” I tugged the blanket higher until only my nose and eyes peeked out. “I wonder. Do you like cider?”
The bird merely stared at me. His song always stopped while I spoke, as if he wanted to hear what I had to say. Like I was important.
He made me feel important.
“It’s almost time for it,” I mused. “And mulled wine. Poached pears.” My toes curled as I thought about it. I peered over at him. “Do you think you would like a poached pear?”
Mist said nothing, only trilled a complicated note. “Was that a yes?” I grinned at the bird. He’d never made that sound before. “Perhaps I’ll bring you one and see if you like it. Magda makes the best in the entire kingdom. With the new spices arriving any day, I’m sure it will be twice as good.”
I twisted the covers through my fingers. “There’s something else, too,” I ventured. “Kane is due in three days.” Mist came twice this week, and I hadn’t been able to voice my thoughts to him about this upcoming visit until tonight. I don’t know why I hesitated, but speaking them aloud made them real. Something inescapable. It would change things between us. Not now, but soon.
“They’re from Pelorus, if you didn’t already know.” How would he know? My thoughts rambled. He’s merely a bird. “Mother says it’s a mighty kingdom. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she sounds…afraid. Father brushes her off. Like he does everything, I suppose. But there’s a strange feeling in the castle that wasn’t there before the announcement.” I looked away, my eyes finding a spot high on the ceiling to focus on as I gave voice to the words I hadn’t been able to say. “Father has betrothed us.”
Mist’s trilling stopped abruptly. A long sigh broke from me. “I am not ready for marriage,” I whispered in confidence. “Not to someone I don’t know. Or love.” A harsh laugh cracked from me. “I do not get to have love. My father says love means weakness, and queens can never be weak. Only the strong maintain power.”
My eyes found him again. “What do you think? Is love a weakness? Made only for the dreamers and followers? Never for kings and queens?”
Mist fell uncharacteristically silent for a long moment before another song warbled from his beak. Lonely and mournful, he sang as the wind outside picked up, blowing his feathers to and fro. And yet, he remained stalwart on his perch on my windowsill, singing through my wounded heart. When hot tears flowed down my cheek and landed in the crease of my neck, Mist continued to sing. The wind howled through the trees, sending the leaves into a crackling rattle. We were still a few months from winter, but the noise outside reminded me of one of the vicious storms Marianas sometimes endured when the north had angered the gods so much they neglected to turn their storms away from us.
I shivered as Mist sang, his beak tipped up to the sky, moonlight glinting at the end. As my eyes drifted shut, I could have sworn silver lined the nightbird’s eyes.
Tears for me.
For a love I’d never experience.
