The Raven’s Sin

As I draw the blade closer to my father’s throat, I start to think.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before death. They never say whose death.

The dagger trembles in my grip. Not from fear, I tell myself. From memory.

The poison is working. I see it in the stiffness of his jaw, in the way his fingers twitch against the armrest of his chair.

I thought hatred would be enough. That years of it would harden me. That when the moment came, I would feel nothing.

But all I can think of is how I got here.

And him.

…

Fourteen-year-old Ella Raven ran barefoot across the back lawns of the estate, skirts bunched in her fists, laughing at nothing at all.

Lessons were done. Books closed. Drills endured. The summer manor was meant for rest, Father said. For Ella, it meant longer days and fewer excuses.

The sun was still warm. She had an hour. She was free. She knew exactly where she was going.

The seasonal workers were housed in a low barn at the far edge of the estate. Rough timber. Narrow windows. It always smelled faintly of hay and sweat.

As Ella crossed the threshold, conversation faltered.

A Raimex family sat near the entrance, newly arrived from the outer islands. The mother’s hand moved quickly to her youngest child’s shoulder, guiding him into a bow. A man at the far table stood too fast, nearly upsetting his cup. Their fear was quiet. Practiced. Instinctive.

Ella barely noticed. She was used to being watched. To being avoided. She was Raven blood. Noble.

She pushed open the side room door without knocking. “Vaeril, I—” She stopped.

The tension hit her like cold water.

Vaeril stood with his back to her. His parents sat at a small table. They were staring now. Not surprised. Not welcoming. Angry. Afraid.

“Um. Sorry,” Ella muttered, already stepping back.

A hand caught her wrist.

“It’s okay, El,” Vaeril said quickly. His father cleared his throat. “Mistress Raven.” his gaze dropped immediately.

Ella frowned. “Don’t call me that. It’s weird.”

Silence pressed in around them.

She tugged Vaeril’s hand. “Come on. Before it gets dark.”

His parents began speaking rapidly in Elven as she pulled him toward the door. The words were sharp. Tight. She didn’t understand them, but she understood the tone.

Vaeril’s family had fled the mainland after the Althrael Conglomerate tightened its restrictions again. Land elves, the more human-looking of their kind. Many had come to the archipelago hoping for something better than endless days in harvested fields. Not all found it.

Outside, Ella didn’t slow until they were halfway down the path toward the cliffs.

“We can sit where we did last time,” she said brightly. “You still owe me a rematch.”

“El.” Vaeril pulled his hand free this time.

She stopped.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured helplessly between them. “Sneaking off. Letting people see. Talking.”

“It’s just talking.”

“It’s not just talking,” he said quietly.

She crossed her arms. “What is it then?”

Vaeril’s jaw tightened. He rarely looked angry. He looked scared now.

“If your father finds out, he won’t just shout at you. He won’t just lock you in a room. He’ll make an example.” His voice dropped. “Of me.”

Ella scoffed. “He wouldn’t.”

Vaeril didn’t answer. She hated that.

“He doesn’t have to know,” she said, stepping closer. “He barely notices when I’m gone.”

“He notices everything,” Vaeril whispered.

She grabbed his hand anyway.

…

“What are you going to do, Ella?” Vorgir’s voice is steady. Almost amused.

The dagger rests against the hollow of his throat now. Close enough that I feel his pulse against the metal. I steady my wrist with my other hand.

“Surely I trained you better than this, daughter mine.” His fingers spasm again.

The poison is fading, but slowly. I need to focus.

“How long did you think it will last?” he continues conversationally. “Did you mean to leave me able to speak?”

“Don’t,” I say. My voice is not fourteen anymore. It doesn’t shake. Not much.

“Oh, daughter mine,” he murmurs. “You drugged me. Sent my guards away. And now what?”

A tear slips down before I can stop it. He smiles wider.

“This is about that damned elven boy, isn’t it?”

…

“Gustav, what are you doing here?” Ella demanded.

Gustav stood halfway down the cliff path, tall and already broad-shouldered at nineteen. The five years between them obvious. Too serious. Always too serious.

“El. Father is looking for you.”

“Of course he is.” She rolled her eyes.

His gaze shifted briefly to Vaeril. Calculating. “He wants you back at the house.”

“He sent you,” she accused.

Before he could react, she reached into his coat and pulled free the silver flask hidden there. “Aha!”

“Give that back, Ella.”

“No.”

“El,” Vaeril murmured. “Just give it to him.” He wouldn’t look at Gustav.

“I thought Darius told you to stay away from her,” Gustav said quietly.

Vaeril went very still.

“It’s none of Darius’ business,” Ella snapped. “And it’s none of yours.”

“It is when father takes his frustrations out on me and Rea. Or even worse on mother!” Gustav stepped closer, then paused. Taking a long breath. “Father has plans for you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“I don’t want his plans!”

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Gustav saw it. Softened, just for a second. “He sees everything, El,” he said. “Just… be careful.”

He took the flask back, unfastened the lid, and drank, his eyes never leaving Vaeril.

…

“I taught you many things, daughter mine,” Vorgir says, his grin widening. “I have yet to teach you how to kill.”

“Shut up! I hate you! Mother hates you! You chased Darius away! He left us—”

My voice breaks. The dagger shakes in my hand. And he laughs.

“Your brothers are weak. Darius most of all. If he thinks he can escape responsibility by running away, he is mistaken.”

“He ran away from you!” I shout.

He only chuckles.

I grit my teeth. Draw a slow breath. Push the blade closer.

“You gave me this dagger,” I say, my voice raw. “You said it would be a symbol of the Raven family’s return to power.”

The blade presses harder. A bead of red forms beneath the edge.

“Well now it will be the symbol that finally gives me power. It will end your bloated, failed rule. This town will be mine.”

I am not fourteen. I am not naïve. And I know exactly what he will do if I fail.

He grins.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand curl into a fist.

And instinct takes over.

…

The wind off the cliffs had been warm that evening. The sea restless below.

Vaeril stood too rigid beside her. “You should go,” he said.

“No.”

“El.”

“No.”

She stepped in front of him before he could move away.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” she asked, trying to make it teasing.

“I’m scared for you. I’m scared for me.”

That stopped her. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

She didn’t know who leaned in first. Maybe she did.

Her hands rose to his collar. His breath hitched. She kissed him, clumsy and determined. Too hard at first. She adjusted. Softer.

The world didn’t end. The sky didn’t fall. The estate didn’t erupt into shouting.

It was warm. It was real.

When they pulled apart, Vaeril looked like he might say something.

Instead, he whispered. “He will know.”