The Brynth Wing, once home to the earth crows, looked nothing like its former self. Managing the huge fields had become too big a task without the crows, who had been responsible for most of Rhodaire’s farming. We had no system for the water, once delivered by water crows, and many of the crops weren’t native to Rhodaire’s humid climate, only surviving thanks to the storm crows. Nearly half of the wing’s crops had failed. Without as much to tend and harvest, the farmers had to let workers go.

The broad streets built for massive crows seemed lined with beggars, hidden in the dark spaces between shops or else pressed against buildings with cloths laid out before them. Signs advertised crow talons and singed feathers recovered from the flames. A dog dug through trash in the shadows of an alley, more skeleton than animal.

Gone were the deep cries of earth crows and the shouts of children as the earth rumbled at the whim of the crows’ power. Gone were the feathers that would drift from the sky like fallen leaves, snatched from the air by young couples to wish upon.

Gone was the world I knew, and I’d let it be taken.

Shame burned my cheeks, and I slowed my horse outside the charred remains of a row of shops. They stood like ancient tombs, forgotten in the face of war and starvation. The streets, once bustling with people and lined with tables of glass figurines and brightly colored pottery, now echoed with the sound of our horses’ hooves as they kicked up dust.

A cloud hung over the kingdom, like the one that haunted me. The void inside me slowly filled with the black emotions that shone in every pair of eyes around us: despair, anger, apathy.

Kiva moved her horse closer to mine. “Put your hood up. I don’t like the looks we’re getting.”

“No one’s going to hurt—” I stopped at the look on her face, nausea turning in my stomach. I lifted the hood of my cloak, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. I’d never felt unsafe in the city before, but I’d be a fool not to recognize that a portion of the wing’s growing resentment was aimed at the crown.

At me, for abandoning them.

I met the eyes of a little girl half my age and watched as first recognition, then anger took turns in their brown depths.

Illucia had done this, and Caliza wanted me to marry Ericen.

My hands tightened on my reins as Kiva and I neared the Kessel Woods on the outer edge of the wing. The summer afternoon was mild, warm in the sun and comfortable in the shade. A perfect afternoon for a ride—except I hated riding horses, whose rocking gait was nothing like the smooth flight of a crow, and the images from the wing clung to me like burrs.