Feathers So Vicious (Court of Ravens, #1)

by Liv Zander

A single tear rolled down my cheek, then another, turning my chest heavy as if they all collected inside my heart. For the first time, it felt full. For the first time, I felt loved.

“Which means he’s truly only about half as good looking as the donkey in the stable. Quite literally. Rather long in the face, this one.”

“If a wife cannot speak ill of her husband, then what joys are there left for her in marriage?”

How about my lack of a penis? She hadn’t lamented about it for months.

When her gaze settled on a white down feather that must have escaped the pillow during said tossing and turning, her hand stalled for a moment, only to brush it off the bed with a disapproving shake of her head.

“Though, the way you got rid of the silk looks rather inviting. Molted your pretty feathers right down to the cotton, huh? Who are you?”

“Swallowed your tongue, sweetheart?”

“I’ll carry you to where you’re wanted. Be a good girl and save your antics for when I’m gone.”

“Who is this p-person you’re taking me to?” I asked, struggling down the shake in my voice. “This… Malyr?”

I followed his line of sight, stomach dropping when I finally spotted the raven that sat quietly on a branch. Head tilted, the bird watched me, the bit of light filtering in through the canopy casting a blueish hue over its black plumes.

My heart quickened, filling my veins with liquid terror the higher my gaze wandered along black breeches, an equally dark but intricately tooled leather cuirass, a set of impressive shoulder guards shaped like pointed feathers… until I saw his face. Then my heart cracked.

“That shift was a bit dramatic, even for the Lord of Shadows.”

“Unharmed is not how women come out from there in the morning.”

“Mm-hmm, now I truly want to take you to my chambers.” His grip slipped to my throat faster than I could dodge it, robbing me of air with how tightly he squeezed, his dark whisper nothing but a purr against my temple. “Or I might just snap your neck, little white dove.”

Fuck, she looked so fragile. Deliciously vulnerable.

“How did a man with such a rotten soul manage to make such a pretty daughter?”

Of course, Malyr only frowned. He didn’t care for her full blush lips unless he bit them bloody. Didn’t care for her shapely body unless it carried his marks. Cared even less about those unblinking eyes, not unless he filled them with tears.

“The goddess has sent us something precious.”

Five years ago, I swore I would kill Domren. How much longer until I would finally get my revenge? Might as well bounce his betrothed on my cock while I waited.

So no bouncing her on my cock, then. That still left me with a dozen other things I could do to have Domren’s future queen scream my name. Learn it by heart. A sad consolation, but still better than nothing while I bided my time.

“My part in this war starts with our attack on the capital and ends with Domren’s guts dangling from my beaks.”

Everyone I’d once vowed to protect was rotting away in graves—if they had graves at all. That was how well I’d done it.

Not for the first time since I’d woken, I pressed down on the marbled skin. A dull ache flared up, yet I held the tension. Paid close attention to how the sensation spread, how it turned from a dull ache to a sharp twinge. It was strangely intriguing, this… pain.

“Beautiful.” Deep and predatory, that one word purred over the nape of my neck, quickening my pulse. “Turn. Let me have a look at my shadowmarks.”

“Because you’re so undeniably human, with your strands so… pale…” His fingers weaved into my hair and fisted it, pulling my head back until my mouth opened on a gasp. “It is in your gait, your gestures, the absence of even an ounce of magic. I cannot look at you and not see a human… my enemy.”

“If you believe death is the worst I can give you, then clearly, you haven’t experienced much of life.”

“It will hurt… I will make sure of it.”

“And you shall cry so prettily for me. Right, little dove? You will give me all your tears?”

“Mmm, what an unexpected but utterly intriguing offer. You have my full attention, Galantia.” A twitch tugged on his upper lip, pulling his mouth into a lopsided grin. “Do you know how to cut for the most pleasure? I do.”

“I can hardly contain my excitement. Feel…”

“You enjoy the first cut. I shall enjoy the second, and all the ones thereafter, carving myself under your skin the way your fucking father has carved himself under mine.”

Now get that damn knife away from me before you accidentally hurt yourself. Only I get to hurt you.”

“Open your mouth, little white dove.” He forced the blade higher, placing the cold metal flat across my mouth. “Lick the blade, slowly, until it cuts into your tongue. Ah-ah… don’t turn your head.” He let one finger slip off the handle, stroking the bloody digit along my lips. “Open those pretty lips for me.”

“Whimper, Galantia,” he said. “Let me hear your sobs.”

“That is not what whimpering sounds like.” The blade cut deeper, all but scraping over bone. “Cry for me, little dove, and I shall do my best to make it pretty.”

“Shh… it’s alright, sweetheart.” He slid an arm down the back of my thighs before he lifted me up. “I’ve got you.”

“Life marks us all in one way or another.” Sebian dunked the cloth into the water. “The only scars truly ugly are usually the ones on the inside, anyway.”

Elevated scars webbed across his digits, his knuckles, and the gaps between them, enclosing valleys of dark ochre. The disfigurement reached all the way up to his wrist, then disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. I hadn’t noticed it the day he’d grabbed me. How much of his body was covered in these hideous patches of wrinkled flesh?

“Burn marks.” He pressed the cloth against my sternum, droplets of water running down along my wound. “Best take a long hard look, sweetheart, because it’ll be a common sight in this castle.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you. Lots of ways to put that to good use, so I like it. Malyr does not. Better mind your tongue around him.”

“He… cut your lip. Interesting.”

“Indecent…” He pronounced that word slowly, languidly, while a lopsided grin tugged on his full lips. “Like what, Galantia? What are those indecent things, hmm? Tell me.”

“Handsome? Have you ever met him in person?” Bowl lowered to the floor, he tossed the cloth onto the nearby table, rose, and walked over to his armoire. “Sweetheart, he has the face of a horse.”

“To a point I hear the rush of blood in your veins. How your heart beats stronger when I’m close to you. How your breath quickens when I touch you…” another tug on my lip. “…right here.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A final stroke of his finger over my bottom lip as he winked at me. “We’re incredibly charming.”

“The Court of Ravens, of course.”

I feared myself. Didn’t trust this wild, vicious blackness inside my chest. How it writhed and slithered, twisting at my core, carving itself through the gap in my ribs in an attempt to escape my meager control. My gift. My curse.

So I’d kept them inside me. Imprisoned the most vicious of my shadows behind flesh and bone, sensing them grow stronger, angrier, pacing the bars of my ribcage.

“Blast these featherless cunts!”

“Why the goddess placed this curse into your cradle, I cannot say, but you mustn’t succumb to its darkness.