Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

~ Shade ~

Y ou know, when Blake asked me to find her mates, I didn’t realize this was where I’d end up, I complain in my head as I walk cautiously along a dark tunnel. I would be mad at the four males who suggested I do this, if it weren’t for the fact that they’d called me ‘their crow.’ Hearing it had given me the warm fuzzies, and I get the feeling that just because I’m Blake’s friend, they’d do anything for me. Best friend, I correct myself, puffing my chest out a little, though no one is around to see it.

Shortly after Alaric had volunteered me for the job as messenger, the prisoner on the other side of the wall had passed a strip of rolled fabric through a small hole. As the males had worked at tying the message to my neck, they’d fussed over me, and it reminded me of how human dads sometimes fussed over their daughters. Except these daddies are sexy as sin.

Amusement goes through me, and I’m quick to amend, no, not daddies, they’re more like brothers. I think of how for a long time, it was mostly Blake and I on our own. I’d do anything for my girl, but it was nice to know she had others looking out for her now. Even if I’m still the one doing all the work.

I kick a tiny pebble as I walk in the pitch black, and I stumble a little before correcting myself. I just wish this escape plan of theirs didn’t rely solely on me. Even after the message was strapped to my neck, the stranger from the cell next to us had spent a long while describing the route I needed to take to get to the rebels. Once again, I was left wanting to explain about my terrible navigational skills, but from the sounds of things, I’m all they have. Once I was out of the prison, it had gone reasonably well. The instructions had been mostly straightforward, and I was able to fly through the tunnels for a while, but now the way is completely dark. Aside from a few random bursts of flight, I stumble around blindly, and worry has my heart beating rapidly in my chest.

To make matters worse, not long ago my connection with Blake had cut off. Earlier, I’d explained about the rebels and the whole being a messenger thing, and despite her obvious concerns, she’d mostly been on board. But I’d been relying on having her in my head for advice. Now, there is only the silence of the tunnel, and the scrape of my feet on the ground.

It's not so scary, I tell myself. It’s just a hole made out of rock. A long, dark, freezing hole that probably leads to rebels who might murder you on sight.

I think of what Alaric had said to me before I’d hopped through the bars of their cell. “Remember that the rebels are not your friends. Don’t let your guard down around them. Living in the tunnels has likely hardened them into something cold. Something dangerous. Just make sure that the message you’re holding gets into the hands of the rebel leader, Eliza.”

Yep, the assassin is as bad at giving pep talks as I am. Still, I appreciated his confidence in me because I sure as hell didn’t have any. Neither did Prince Callan, it turns out.

“You know we’re fucked right?” Prince Callan had said dryly as I’d almost tripped while hopping through the bars of their cell.

“Give the bird a chance,” Alaric had growled. “Some battles have been won by the most underestimated of opponents.”

“And many more have been lost,” Prince Callan countered coldly. “We’d better devise a plan B.”

I’d taken that opportune moment to dart across the tunnel while the guards weren’t looking and take the bend around the next corner, because I didn’t need that negativity in my life. If I let those thoughts in, I wouldn’t make it, and I’d never get the help they needed. And I wasn’t about to let Blake down.

Swallowing, I blink in the dark, bringing my thoughts back to the present. Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking, walking, walkiiiiing, I think the words to the tune of a song I once heard when my humans watched a movie about a blue fish with a horrendous memory. If I was that fish, no doubt I’d still be lost in the endless black of the deep sea. As it is, I’m a crow stuck in the endless black of the caves instead.

Hours. That’s how long it feels like I’ve been down here. Freaking hours. A scratching noise sounds somewhere to my left, and I skitter sideways, banging against the rocky wall I’ve been following. Ouch! I shake myself off, starting forward again, and forcing myself not to start running like a lunatic. I can’t fly because I can’t see where I’m going, but if I run, I’ll probably break one of my twig legs and get stuck here. Not a pigeon, I think, remembering how I’d wished I was a pigeon earlier. No, right now, I wish I was an owl. Then at least I’d be able to see in the dark. I force myself to take more steps. Keep calm, Shade, and just keep wallllking. My heart is pounding hard enough that I’m worried I won’t hear if something comes up behind me, but thankfully, the next time I hear a scratching noise, it sounds like it’s further away down the tunnel.

Still, I don’t let myself celebrate. Not when there could be something else stalking me. I think about how the guards had talked about rats in the palace. Please, please don’t let there be any rats here. I imagine a family of the huge rodents living their best life in these tunnels, and just waiting for me to walk into their territory. My thoughts start spiralling, and I force myself to take a breath. Quit it, Shade. There aren’t any rats. Okay, so the dead end the prisoner talked about should be right around… Oof! I walk beak first into a rocky wall and topple down. I’ve definitely bruised something, but I’m back on my feet shortly after. Crap. It definitely would be better if I was an owl.

According to the stranger in the prison, this is actually a secret entrance to the rebel camp. I feel around, pecking the rock until I find a small opening on the bottom right. The hole is just large enough for me to wiggle my feathered butt through, and I slither past the rock, emerging on the other side.

There’s more rocky walls and stone underneath my feet over here, but a white glow emanates from somewhere up ahead. The further I walk, the more light bleeds into the space. I follow the twisting tunnel as it curves around, and…

“What the fuck is that?” someone comments as I bump into something hard. Before I have time to register what I’ve walked into, large, sweaty hands clamp onto me, lifting me into the air.

Ahhhh! You’ll never take me aliveeee! I panic, pecking my attacker’s hand furiously like a chicken with an adrenaline rush.

“Ouch! Stop! It’s a fucking bird!” That same deep masculine voice says, squashing me even more.

Come on, Shade. Deep breaths. He’s not going to drop dead from a few pecks, so just take a breath, will you?

The male stops tightening his hold on me when I stop pecking him, and my chest heaves as I force myself to maintain a ceasefire.

“Well, don’t kill it,” a feminine voice reprimands. “Hold it like that and you’re going to squeeze it to death. Show me.”

The hands around me loosen even more and open enough that I look up to see a female with a freckled face peering down at me.

“It’s a crow,” she says in surprise. “I didn’t know Celzar saved any of those?”

“It’s a bad omen, that’s what it is,” the male holding me says with a frown. Weapons are strapped to a leather belt across his chest, and my face blanches at the small throwing knives I can only just make out. “What are the odds that soon after we hear the news about the king’s upcoming weddin’, that a black crow finds its way to our camp.”

I sigh internally. It doesn’t matter if it’s humans, demons, or now apparently these rebels, crows always seem to get a bad rap. I want to point out that since I’ve been around, Blake’s luck has actually improved, but then I think of her dysfunctional mates and the fact that she’s currently locked up by a foreign king, and I start to doubt myself.

“We’ll take it to, Eliza. She can decide what to do with it,” the female says.

The male holding me grumbles, and for a moment I think he’s going to crush me anyway, but then he starts lumbering on, jostling me about in his large hands as he walks.

By the time I hear voices again, I’m almost convinced he’s given me a concussion, but I quickly manage to pull myself together when I hear, “Where is it?” This female’s voice is sure and commanding, and when the male opens his hands this time, I’m about ready to wing it out of there.

Or I would, if I wasn’t frozen to the spot as the male removes his top hand and stretches his bottom palm flat, exposing me to three more individuals who gawk at me. Two more males and one female stare straight at me, their gazes shrewd and hard, but it’s the new female with long dark braids and piercing black eyes who moves in close. I’m still frozen to the spot when she reaches over and…strokes my feathers. Her fingers glide down my back, and despite her serious expression, her touch is kind. Warmth seeps out from her fingertips, soothing my anxiety, and I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not.

“You were right to bring her to me,” the female says. “I can confirm there aren’t any crows in the city, so she must be from above.”

One of the other females steps closer. “Above?”

“And I think…” the female says, her fingers finding the strip of cloth fastened around my neck, “that a crow finding its way down here right to us in these tunnels can’t be an accident.” Her ebony gaze meets mine as she pulls off the strip of cloth, and I hope this girl can make out the squiggles and lines the prisoner splodged on there. Otherwise, I’m screwed.