Someone knocked, and Kiva entered. The dullness in her normally bright eyes was stark, and her characteristically perfect braid was loose and frayed.

I frowned. “Don’t you have morning training?”

“My mother decided she wanted to take over for now.” She sat on the edge of my bed.

“Are you all right?” The question came out before I could stop it, and her reaction was what I expected.

Her jaw set, eyes narrowing. “I’m fine.”

I sighed, forcing the questions back down with the utmost restraint.

“You’re still in bed,” she noted.

I looked away, and something squirmed in my stomach. This was the worst part. The moment when I knew I needed to act, but my body refused to comply. With only days to hatch the egg, I needed a plan. But the need felt like it’d been swallowed by quicksand, there but buried.

You’re running out of time. Move.

Nothing.

“I could go get the bucket of water”—Kiva stopped with a smile as I shot her a glare—“or you can at least sit up.”

Grudgingly, I pushed myself up against the headboard and pulled the covers above my chest. This was ridiculous. Ericen would be here soon, and as much as I wanted to stay hidden in my room, I had to accept what was happening and handle it like a princess of Rhodaire should.

Problem was, the feeling inside me didn’t care about what I had to do. It didn’t care that I wanted to help Rhodaire, that I wanted to restore normalcy and peace and happiness. All it did was remind me that if I couldn’t even do those things for myself, I sure as Saints couldn’t do anything for Rhodaire.

“Take a few deep breaths,” Kiva said.

I forced air deep into my lungs, then back out. Already, my head felt a little clearer.

“Sit beside me.”

I moved to the edge of the bed. She stood. Slowly, I did too.

“Now get dressed. I’ll be back to get you soon.”

I marched into my closet, still feeling tired but better. That was always Kiva’s point—I had to take everything one step at a time. I just wished she’d let me help her.

Kneeling before my armoire, I pulled open the bottom drawer, shifting aside sweaters to reveal the egg. I ran my fingers along the smooth shell, and the quiet humming danced up my arm, settling my stomach and chasing away the snake coiled about my neck.

Bonds weren’t formed between crow and rider until after the hatching, and yet something about the connection between the egg and me felt intensely personal. It made me feel seen. Like the crow inside already knew me and I, it.

If I couldn’t hatch it, I couldn’t stop my engagement, couldn’t protect Rhodaire or begin to rebuild it.

But first, I had to survive the next few hours.

* * *