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Chapter 2

2

Dane, Darius, and Zander, all crowded under the frame of the massive plank door that led to the center of the castle, swore in unison. The words drew the attention of the two women seated on a wooden bench, their backs to the fire.

Wide, crystal blue eyes danced with some humor over the faces of Zander and Darius, before resting on the surprised and wary gaze of the eldest Roanoak. Though it had been a handful of summers, his face was just as handsome. He continued to wear his black mane of hair to his shoulders, which seemed to comfortably carry the weight of all that fell to the first-born.

“Well, it’s no surprise he remains in the garb of a soldier. He always did prefer the back of a horse to his proper place,” Willa said, her silver hair gathered neatly in a braid that hung over one shoulder, and sniffed in her usual disapproval of Dane Roanoak.

Raven patted Willa’s forearm in comfort, her eyes never leaving the compelling gaze of the man that strode towards her. “Now, Willa, you know how Dane feels regarding the act of conducting diplomacy and mediations from behind a desk. He’s always preferred the… personal approach.”

It wasn’t often that Dane’s inner balance was knocked askew, so Raven didn’t bother to school her features, including the half-smile at his obvious confusion and irritation at finding her at Roanoak. As was proper, Raven stood and inclined her head in greeting. Willa stood behind her and offered the same gesture of respect. Raven’s unbound black hair shifted over her shoulder at the movement, partially concealing her face.

Dane stopped as a particular memory filled his mind. In Raven’s workshop, the last time he’d seen her, candlelight shone in strands of her hair, just as it now reflected the firelight. They had worked long hours together, and he surprised her with a late evening meal upon a spread blanket on the floor of her suite of rooms. The subject of their conversation moved easily from legend and lore, to battles, to plans of the future. She had gifted him with a kiss that night. However, when news arrived that his father had disappeared, and he left for Roanoak the following day, Raven hadn’t bothered to say goodbye. And when Joseph Roanoak’s head was delivered several days later to the front steps of his ancestral home, the condolences from the Pharloe family, and the special note from Raven, were set aside. Grief became his companion even as he and his brothers worked to discover what had occurred in their absence.

Dane blinked and pulled in the rush of memories and emotions in order to hide them behind cool aloofness, so that when Raven raised her gaze, it was all she would recognize. He watched as she refocused on his face, as her smile faded and sorrow and weariness replaced the warmth in her eyes. He pretended he wasn’t sorry for it.

“Willa,” he said, glancing at the woman that filled the role of tutor and chaperone when Raven was a child, and confidant and protector now that her charge had grown. Dane knew Raven’s abilities and guessed that she did most of the protecting. “Welcome to Roanoak.” Dane’s eyes shifted back to the woman with whom his attention remained riveted. “And, Raven. How is it that you have arrived at my home?”

Raven moistened her lips, then glanced at Zander and Darius as they sat on the bench across the table from her. They, at least, appeared more curious and less likely to react with anger. She drew in a breath, caught her courage before it could scramble away, and with an unwavering resolve, answered the first heir of Roanoak.

“Baltura.”

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