She only squeezed herself tighter against me. “You have no need to apologize.” And for a moment I allowed myself to hold her in return. I’d been trying for so many reasons not to touch her, but just this once I put my hand on her back to return her forgiving embrace.
“Ava,” I breathed, pulling away from her because of what I’d felt at her back.
My hand had set on a scar, one I’d never noticed because I’d never seen that side of her bare—last night I’d tried not to look—and I’d certainly never caressed her flesh with my fingers. I met her eyes to make my concern apparent. She’d known what I felt, but she turned onto her stomach instead of saying anything, exposing her back so I could look at it, and I peeled down the blankets to see.
It was massive. An old burn scar as if she’d been branded, and it covered the entirety of her back, from her shoulder blades to the center between her hips. Like a brand, it was only the outline, but its workings shaped an intricate crow, wings stretched at her shoulder blades and talons extended down the length of her spine. But my heart didn’t just sink because of what Ava had gone through. I recognized the mark. I’d seen this very shape before, though the last time I’d seen it, it was so small I’d mistaken it for a raven. That onyx bird set in Hazlitt’s crown.
“I told you,” Ava said humorlessly, “I’m not so fragile as you think.”
“Did King Hazlitt do this to you?” I demanded, with every desire to stick my knife straight through the heart of whoever had put the scalding metal to her flesh, particularly if it was Hazlitt. “Is he the person threatening your life?”
“Why do you ask if it was the king?” Ava turned back to look at me, a fearful but curious crease in her eyebrows. “How would you know that?”
“I’ve seen that symbol, Ava,” I muttered. “In his crown. Was it him?” Her shoulders bobbed with reply. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I woke up one morning in searing pain,” she said. “I have no recollection of who did it, or how.” Her eyes filled with tears, as though she could still feel it. “I showed my mother, and she was terrified, but she wouldn’t say if she knew anything.”
I sat up, setting my elbows against my knees and burying my face in my hands because my head was suddenly spinning. A person didn’t just forget how they came by pain like that. This was too much, and I knew already that I was in over my head. “You know what that sounds like?” I asked.
Ava was quiet for a thoughtful moment before whispering, “Magic.”
I released a heavy sigh, trying to calm my racing mind. “The witch told me someone was cursed.” I glanced back, and Ava’s eyes fell because she knew what I was implying. “Ava… crows are omens of death.”
Slowly, Ava sat up too. She left the furs and gathered her dry clothing from near the fire to begin pulling it on. “Get dressed,” she murmured. “I’ll tell you what I know.”
I did as she said. She finished before me, and sat back down on the furs to be near the heat of the fire. Once I was dressed, I lowered myself next to her. I don’t know if it was for warmth or comfort, but once I sat, she scooted into my side and linked an arm through mine. Though I’d been so wary of constant contact with her, and though I couldn’t kiss her, or touch her, or tell her how I felt, I could allow this much. More than that, I wanted to allow this much.
“You know we’re losing the war?” Ava asked, and though I knew nothing of the war’s politics, I’d seen the broken state of my kingdom’s people. I nodded. “King Hazlitt has been trying for years to negotiate with Cornwall in the West, to get them to send soldiers, but they’ve wanted nothing to do with our war.”
“Smart,” I muttered.
“Indeed,” Ava agreed. “They see the king’s greed for power, and know it to be his ruin.” I felt Ava take in a deep breath, and heard her release it in a heavy sigh. “But the king is desperate. In the summer, he hosted the royal family from Cornwall to negotiate a different treaty.” I hummed curiously. “A marriage between House Gaveston and House Tardin, to vow lasting peace between our kingdoms no matter the turn of the war with Ronan.”
It took a long moment for me to realize exactly what she was saying. “You’re betrothed?” I exclaimed, pulling my arm from hers and making to scoot away. I’d be put to death for sure.
“Kiena, please,” Ava begged, but she let me retreat. “Hear me before making your judgment. I’d not have kissed you were I to marry another.”
“Swear it,” I demanded, terrified of the position I’d been put in. By the gods, I was a traitor. I’d crossed lines I could never uncross.
“On my life,” she swore, and though there was still a large part of me that was panicking, I settled back down at her side. Ava was too unsure of herself now to take my arm back, but maybe it was for the best. “The betrothal was a rouse. The king made it clear to me that I was to win the affections of the prince, and I did. I played his game, knowing well that I was doing it and that King Hazlitt had some ill motive. I did it anyway, because the prince is a good man, and I thought even if I could never love him, at least I’d be somewhere happier.” She hung her head, and I refrained from making my displeasure known. “The royal family went home to Cornwall while preparations were to be made for the wedding.”
I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes from the sheer stress. I couldn’t hear this, it hurt my head and heart and my very soul. But I had to hear it.
“There are secret tunnels in the castle,” Ava continued. “As long as I do the few things Hazlitt asks, he cares very little how I spend my free time, so I explore them sometimes to keep busy. I happened upon the king’s most trusted advisor, speaking with a mercenary.” Ava glanced sideways at me, waiting until I met her eyes. “Kiena, he was an assassin.”
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
“Before the wedding plans were finished,” she said, “the king would have me killed. He’d blame it on the Ronan Empire by saying they’d caught word of an alliance. I was meant to be a sacrifice, Kiena. My life for the rage of a prince whose affections I’d deceived.”
“And Cornwall would lend soldiers to King Hazlitt’s cause.”
Ava nodded. “That’s why I ran,” she said. “I was afraid, and I couldn’t let the king go through with it. He can’t win this war. He shouldn’t even keep the throne.”
“Ava,” I breathed stressfully. This was way over my head. What did I know of kings and politics and wars? Who was I to decide the fate of any of it? “Why are you going south? What’s there for you that isn’t death?”
There was a long silence, and eventually Ava mumbled, “My father.”
My face set with confusion. “King Hazlitt i—”
“King Hazlitt is not my father,” Ava interrupted. “I’m not a Gaveston by blood.” I met her eyes, and she could read the inquiry in them. Who was her father? “By blood, I’m of House Ironwood.”
Ironwood. “The king of the Ronan Empire,” I whispered. “You’re Ronan.”
“Entirely,” she confirmed.
“How?”
“My mother was pregnant when she married Hazlitt,” she answered.
“But their marriage was for peace.”
“A treaty Hazlitt betrayed when he found out,” she said. “Or he simply used it as an excuse. Before Akhran Ironwood was king, he asked my mother’s hand. She’s originally of House Fysher.”
Ava paused to see if I’d heard the name, but I shook my head. “I know nothing beyond kings,” I told her.
“House Fysher carries influence in Ronan second only to House Ironwood,” she explained. “On account of the treaty with the soon to be King Hazlitt, my grandfather disregarded my father’s request, and negotiated with Lord Fysher for my mother’s marriage to Hazlitt Gaveston.” My head was swimming. It was so much to take in and understand, but Ava wasn’t finished. “The Fyshers lent aid to put Hazlitt on the throne, and once he was there, he refused to end the war.”