I whip back around in my saddle. It is my very own crow. The one Sister Widona had rescued and kept in a cage when I first arrived. She used the frightened, wounded creature to draw me out of the morass my own mind had fallen into. Without that crow, I might be there still.
The convent has sent me a message. It has been four long months since I last heard from them, and I had nearly given up hope that I ever would again. But now. Now there is a message. My spirits soar just like the falcons did moments ago. Perhaps old Sister Vereda has Seen what I could not—d’Albret’s death.
“You seem restless.” Julian’s voice yanks my mind from its daydreaming. The crow’s timing could not be worse.
“Not at all,” I say.
Ever jealous of the attention Julian pays me, Jamette sticks her long nose in. “Why is that crow following you?” she asks.
“You are deluded,” I scoff. “He is not following me. I think he is after the vole you caught.”
“No, no,” she says, and my hand itches to slap her silly face. “It is following you. Look!”
The crow flutters another tree closer.
“Tsk. Does not the lowly crow realize he is far beneath my sister’s notice? Here.” Julian moves his hand toward his falcon’s jesses. “I will dispatch the uncouth creature for you.”
“No!” I say, too sharply.
He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I give him a cool smile. “What am I to do with a crow? Put it in a pie with Jamette’s vole? Besides,” I add in a bored voice, “it is wounded, or deranged. No healthy crow would hover this close to falcons. And see how it holds its wing? Leave it be. Or,” I say, smiling in open challenge, “better yet, do try to catch it. That way I can beat you back to the castle.”
With that challenge thrown down, I put my heels to my horse and fly forward. A split second later, the others follow.
I even let Julian win.
When we reach the castle, I hand my falcon to the waiting groom, then dismount. My gaze scans the horizon for the crow, half fearing he will land on my shoulder in front of everyone. I must think of a way to get the message without half the castle seeing.
Jamette lingers near the stable, still trying to flirt with Julian, and Tephanie is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps I can steal a few moments in my room alone and coax the wretched creature to the window long enough to remove the message he carries. Leaving the others to their own amusements, I quit the courtyard and enter the palace, then head for the stairs.
No one follows. My luck holds, and when I reach my chamber, it is empty. I head straight for the window and open the casement—but there is no sign of the crow. I wait a few more moments, willing him to find me, then huff out a sigh of frustration. Just as I am about to close the window, I hear a caw and see a flap of black wings. But too late. I can hear Jamette and Tephanie at the chamber door. I slam the window shut and close the thick velvet curtains.
“What are you doing?” Jamette asks as she comes into the room. “Now it is too dark in here.”
I put my hand to my temple. “I have a headache,” I say crossly.
A look of genuine concern appears on Tephanie’s round face as she hurries over to my side. “Shall I fetch a tisane? Or lavender water?”
I could send them to fetch a tisane or hot wine, but that requires only one of them. Besides, Jamette will just linger in the hallway with her large ear stuck to the wall.
“You were fine but moments ago,” she points out.
I spear Jamette with a vicious look. “Was I really, Jamette? Were you paying close enough attention to know that?”
She flushes at this reminder of just how poorly she has attended me. Then I make a decision. “I am going outside.”
Jamette gapes at me. “But you have a headache!”
“Indeed I do. I believe it is your screeching voice and the vile perfume you favor, which is why I need fresh air.”
Her mouth closes with a snap, and I feel the smallest tweak of conscience, for her scent is fine. And then I remember that she reports every move of mine to my father, and my regret evaporates.