Nine

Duke Raven's POV

I stand near the window and let the cool air blow across my face. Silence, or so they say, has a language all its own. For this very reason that I have sent my birds to the palace. To her. 

No letter, no scripted words. Just my ravens.

I'm hoping she realizes the true meaning of my gesture, which is that I'm sending her my ravens to indicate that something new is about to happen, maybe one that will bring us together.

I see the dark shapes of my two ravens against the sky as they fly back towards me. I run my hand over their feathers once they sit on my extended arm.

My soldiers.

My eyes when I'm not around.

My voice when I don't want to speak. 

"Well?" I ask in a calm, quiet voice. "Did she see you?" The bird ruffles its wings and lets forth a faint caw, as if the question itself bores it.

"Of course she did." I mumble as I slide a gloved palm down my jaw.

The bird's idle response has a certain irony to it. Even if it acts as though it doesn't care, I know that my ravens have diligently obeyed my orders. I have never been disappointed by them, and I have no reason to doubt that they will succeed this time around either.

The city outside is sleeping under an illusion of silence and falsehoods. Since I didn't go to their small celebration, they believe they're safe tonight.

Stupid people.

Safety is a myth and I have dedicated my entire life to dispelling it.

His Majesty must be upset. Excellent. He needed a reminder of what it was like to be outwitted.

"Go," I command quietly, and the ravens takes off from their perch, slashing wings through the air before vanishing into the pitch black. As they go, a single feather drifts down from one of their wings, coming to rest gently on my arm.

I pick up the fallen feather, turning it between my fingers before making my way back to the desk. The chair creaks softly as I settle in, but my mind is already elsewhere—on the letter, sealed and sent. 

"The debt is not forgotten. And neither is the blood that was spilled."

I smile faintly and sit down. A part of me is curious, at the thought of how he will react when I present my proposal. Something tempting, something too difficult to resist. How far will he go to reclaim what was lost?

I hear a knock on the door. Only one person knocks like that. That confidently. That loudly. "Come," I say, not moving an inch.

Izkiel enters the room, and a grin spreads across his face. He looks pleased with whatever information he's about to drop on me, like a cat who's just caught something it knows will make its owner squirm. Those eyes are already telling me everything I need to know. "Well," he says, "I'm sure you've been wondering…"

"Took you long enough?" I ask, the bored expression already set on my face. "Did anything happen on your way back here?" 

I tilt my head, eyeing him with a hint of curiosity, though the mask of indifference stays in place. I know the answer, though.

He probably lagged behind just to chat with anyone and everyone, getting caught up in unnecessary small talk. Just another one of his habits. Always the social butterfly when he should be getting things done. 

I cross my arms, watching him with a knowing look. He's probably not even aware how predictable he's become.

He laughs, flopping down onto the couch, making himself far too comfortable. He stretches out, as if he's got all the time in the world. Then he smiles and replies, "Well, I couldn't resist the food. You know how it is. The royals serve some really delicious meals during these occasions. Wasting everyone's time there was also enjoyable. I can't let that pass." Stretching out as if he has endless time, he makes it obvious that his priorities are still wildly out of balance.

"What did you get?" I ask, leaning forward just a little, enough to show I'm interested, but not enough to seem desperate. 

I keep my tone casual to hint that I expect something of substance. He's always got something, but I'm not about to let him think I'm hanging on every word.

"I got a lot of things," Izkiel says, stretching his arms behind his head. He shows barely any signs of exhaustion. As usual. Always active, never bothered.

"The crowd's and the king's reactions come first. He had a face you should have seen. So darn funny, so furious. How I managed to maintain a straight face is beyond me. The absence of the crown prince and the youngest prince most likely made it even better. I'm not sure about the youngest one, but the crown prince most certainly lacked the guts to attend the celebration."

"So he really didn't show up."

Interesting, but not surprising. The reality must have been a blow to his dignity as a crown prince. To be so close, yet so far, left with no choice but to hide behind excuses.

I could feel his frustration, even if it didn't show on his face. "Coward."

Izkiel grins, clearly enjoying the drama. "That's one way to put it. The king tried to pretend like it was nothing, but you could tell—he was pissed." 

He chuckles, shaking his head like he's seen this kind of thing a thousand times before, and maybe he has. The way he relishes the discomfort of others is almost impressive, if not a little creepy.

I nod. "And the crowd?" 

"Oh, they ate it up," he says. "Whispers, speculation—you name it. Everyone loves a scandal, and this was prime entertainment."

"What about the princess? What did you notice about her?"

The corners of his mouth twist up as he nods in response to my query. "She was taking pleasure in the drama, as was to be expected. After all, the person she despises the most, her father, was insulted in that way, and she got to see his face."

I can't help but smile when I imagine her watching everything happen and the sick satisfaction in her eyes. How far will she go to turn this against him, I wonder? 

Izkiel leans back, a smirk pulling at his lips as he watches me carefully. "You know, I really thought the king was going to lose it this time. But he managed to keep his cool... just barely. And I swear, princess Ivelle was waiting for the moment her father got put in his place." He chuckled darkly. "The perfect little villain in the making."

"Perfect little villain?" I say, "Oh, she is. That's why I want her. I want to use her rage, her hatred, her disgust against her own family." 

I lean back, the idea grows firm in my mind like a plan that's been waiting to be set in motion. "She won't upset me. I know that much. She'll do exactly what I need, exactly when I need it." 

Izkiel keeps a tight eye on me as his smile turns into something more predicting "You've got something in mind, don't you?" His voice is lowered in interest as he asks. 

I nod, a slow smile creeping onto my face. "I always do."

Tossing the very first bait is all that remains now. And I know—I know—the royals won't be able to resist taking it. Their pride, their greed, their egos—they'll all blind them to the trap waiting at the end of the line. Even if it's somewhat simple, there's a certain pleasure in seeing them fall for the bait without hesitation.

Izkiel's eyes flicker with confusion as he glances at me. I nearly witness his mind working, creating a dozen possible outcomes. "But why did you want to know about her?" 

I play absently with the feather in my hand, looking at it. What made me curious about her? The answer is obvious.

For two reasons.

The curse and the revenge. 

I am trapped by one, and driven by the other.

Both forces pull me in the same direction, to her, who has the power to free my soul's chains and bring about the justice I've been seeking.

For that, she has to be the first bird to be trapped in the cage to lead the others in the same way. She will help me build a beautiful house of glass—and then break it.

A beautiful destruction. And it will be exactly what I need.