The Red Crow blessing had meant Vaya’s imprisonment in the Crow Quarters—otherwise known as the Dungeons of Dalrin. And Vaya mulled over the words “Red Crow blessing” on the way toward the castle. It had not seemed like a blessing to have crow droppings through her hair. She could feel Sledda sat behind her, his strong legs wrapped around her. She felt uncomfortable. The horse’s saddle was too small to fit both Sledda and Vaya.

The sentries at the front gates could be seen scurrying up ahead. Shouts echoed from the ramparts.

“The prince has returned!” shouted one.

“Alert the king, his son has returned!” shouted a rather gallant knight with a silver half-helm covering a host of silvery hair. The gates were heaved open, and the silver-haired knight was waiting on the other side of the brown oak gates to receive Prince Rohinar. Barl the Burly arrived around the side of the carriage to open the door for the prince but Rohinar opened it before he could get his hand around the handle. The force of the carriage door nearly knocked Barl on his behind.

The prince embraced the silver knight. Vaya had not seen a more handsome man. As Sledda led their horse beyond, she tried to turn in her saddle to see more of his face.

“That’s the last you’ll see of him, young lady,” said Sledda.

“Where will you take me? I am a lady. I do not belong in the stables.”

Sledda only laughed. “Oh, you just wait, lady. You’d be lucky enough to find yourself a place in the stables. Where you’re going will be much colder. And wetter.”

Vaya clenched her teeth. She had been foolish for not scampering off at the first sound of horse hooves, but curiosity had held her to her spot. Sledda reined in the horse and tied it up at the stables. A stable boy no older than ten took the reins.

“Fetch him water and a good meal,” said Sledda in his rich voice. He had a booming voice, one fit for a king’s herald.

“At once, commander,” said the boy. Vaya had to glance twice, thinking for a moment it was one of the boys she had seen hunting earlier. She didn’t have to wait long before those two boys came running from above—their feet clattering rhythmically down the wooden steps.

“Brother!” They shouted. Their bodies slammed busily against Prince Rohinar’s midriff.

“Easy, little brothers. You aren’t so light anymore.” Rohinar chuckled. “Pret. Lun.” Rohinar looked his little brothers in the eye and gave them a pat on the head. A whistle sounded overhead. Rohinar looked up to see his father, the king, standing with the Queen atop the overhang. His father had a serious, grim look—as he always did—until they had broken the ice. His mother the same, although she was always far more serious no matter the occasion.

Rohinar gave a nod and his father returned it. “We shall speak more later of your dealings with the Maykeeps. For now, let us get you inside for some mead and mutton.” The King’s gravelly voice indicative of his age. Deep wrinkles filled his forehead, and his eyes held a dullness to them.

“Go along then,” said Rohinar to the two boys. “Go and play with the other lads.”

“What others?” replied Pret. “No one else can handle a sword the way we can.” The two were already running over to their wooden sword stand where they yanked the swords free and began dueling at once.

Vaya’s last glimpse of the royal family faded as Sledda led her inside the stone walls of the Crow Castle.

“The northern reach,” she whispered to herself. “Crow Caste of Dalrin…”

“This is the most you’ll see of it,” replied Sledda. “The prince would have you in the Crow’s Quarters with the rest of the thieves and spies—”

“—actually, she won’t be,” interjected a voice. Vaya whipped her head around, stopping in her tracks. She stopped so abruptly that Sledda nearly tripped over her. “Watch it, fool,” said Sledda.

It was Rohinar who had trotted over to catch up to Sledda and Vaya. “Get her a room and a serving lady to wash her. She does not belong with the dogs down there. Not until we know more about her.” Rohinar’s eyes locked with Vaya’s. Her lips slowly formed a soft smile. Rohinar turned his nose up at her, inspecting her from head to toe. “She sure needs the bath.” Then Rohinar turned on his heel and strode away, his long-furred cape sitting prettily upon his shoulders.

“Fool,” muttered Sledda. “A young prince too naïve for his own good.”

Vaya wondered what the prince would think of that if he had heard Sledda. Sledda pushed her along but instead of taking the dimly lit stone-walled hallway, he led her to the left along a hallway full of heavy doors with torches to light the way. Guards stood outside each door with a spear held at their side.

“Commander,” each guard muttered. Sledda ignored their respects. They finally arrived three stories up, at the end of a spiraled stairwell that had left Vaya’s legs burning. Sledda banged on the door with his fist, and it was answered with seconds. A girl with one eye and missing teeth answered the door.

Vaya stood, frozen. Sledda gave her a nudge. “Off you go then.”

“But…” stammered Vaya. “But what? Off with you.” He pushed her forward. Her feet tripped on the ledge leading into the room and the door slammed shut behind her.

“Hi there,” came a croaky voice. The one-eyed lady bent over, staring at her. She had burned skin all along her arms and a nasty scar that ran over her missing eye. Vaya could not tell how old she was. She could have been young like her, or old like an old crone.

“Are you my serving lady?” asked Vaya.

“No, I’m a lady of the castle, just like you,” she remarked. “I’m Marris!” Her eye stared through Vaya blankly, as if infatuated with her. Vaya scooted away, getting to her feet once she had sufficient space from the creepy woman.

“I’m…Vaya…What is this place? Are we prisoners?”

“No, no, no. You are mistaken. We would be in the Crow Quarters if we were prisoners. You must have found favor in the prince’s eyes, Vaya.” Her name pouring from the old crone’s lips sent a chill through Vaya. She glanced around the room, not realizing how large it was. There were four beds, two on each side of the room. A large mirror sat outside the bathing room, where a large tub with steaming water sat. The room was largely undecorated and had only one window at the far end. Vaya walked over toward it.

“Oh! The window!” exclaimed Marris. She scurried over to it before Vaya could get to it. She leaned her head out of it as if to demonstrate to Vaya what a window was for. “It is so nice how they give us a window, eh? I never had windows in the Crow’s Quarters.”

Vaya ignored her, waiting for her to move so that she could look. She craned her neck out the window and her mouth gaped open. They were at the very tip of one of the castle’s towers at the back end. Down below was a sharp three-hundred-foot drop to a grouping a jagged rock. Beyond that, as far as the eye could see, was leagues of sea that had frozen over.

“The Sea of Glass, they call it. Hasn’t been warm enough in thirty years for the sea to melt.” Vaya could feel Marris breathing on her neck behind her.

Vaya brought a hand to her hair, forgetting how nasty it had gotten. She glanced over at the hot tub in the other room. Marris ran over to it, seeing Vaya looking at it. “I can clean you, if you’d please. I haven’t touched anyone in a very long time. It would be my pleasure.”

“No, I’m…fine…” replied Vaya. “I think they said they’d sent someone for me. You know, to clean me.” Marris laughed hysterically. “Oh, they just say that. They never send nobody. Not unless you’re coming up or going down.” Marris just stared with her eye.

There was a knock on the door.

“Visitor!” shouted Marris. She ran to the door awkwardly. Vaya could see how malnourished she was. Her legs were as thin as her wrist. The boor was barged open, nearly knocking Marris over.

“Welcome,” said Marris. “Want to come in?” The guard stared at her, hidden somewhere in his plate of black armor. A sigil of a bloodied crow was painted on his breast. “Oh no. It’s the Crow’s Quarters, they’ve come for us. Run!” Marris didn’t make it one step. The guard swung the butt of his spear at Marris ankles, tripping her. He was as tall as the doorframe and as strong as an ox. Marris was laughing hysterically. The knight began to drag her from the ankles.

“Have fun, princess,” Marris shouted as she was dragged out. “Beware the Red Crows. They will distort you down there…in the dungeons!” Her voice drifted away as her body was dragged down the spiraling steps. Vaya could hear distant screeching and laughter as her echo disappeared down the stairs. The door was still open as Vaya moved slowly to shut it.

The sat with her back against the wall and her knees to her chest. What could possibly be down there that could have created that? That woman had been a vague resemblance of her former self. Vaya wondered how long she had been here—and in this room.

Hours later, there was a quick knock at the door and the sound of keys jiggling at the doorknob. Vaya was leaned up against the far wall with her knees to her chest. Her big brown eyes stared ahead. She was frightened, scared, and hungry. Her hair was still a tangled mess. Her heart raced inside her chest. The figure outside the door frame was the guard in black armor with soulless eyes staring through a helm. But from behind him emerged two frail serving ladies. The black-armored guard shut the door behind them as they entered.

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“Hello, m’lady,” said the first servant.

“I am…no lady,” whispered Vaya.

The servant giggled. She was in her forties and the servant behind her was half her age. The younger servant who wild, red hair with messy curls. She scurried past the older servant and into the tub room where she began to cook a fire underneath the tub to warm it up again. The older servant knelt before Vaya. She was trembling, and her eyes stared widely at the stone floor.

“I am May Otto, servant to the Queen and her subjects. It looks like you are the Prince’s new lady of choice. At least for now, it changes quite often.” May Otto paused, realizing that had been of little assurance to Vaya. “And what is your name?” she added, sucking her teeth as she realized her mistake.

“Vaya,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Vaya,” repeated the girl, this time with notable irritation. She scrunched her face and maintained a long look at the stone tiles.

“Vaya,” repeated May Otto. “A fine name. Born of the Venistar kingdom, I presume?”

“I do not know where I was born,” said Vaya.

“Ah, I see. Well then…I was sent by her majesty to attend to you. Prince Rohinar will be expecting you in his chambers later and, well, he doesn’t take well to a lady with crow’s feces in their hair. But on the contrary, he seemed to have a keen eye for those bright brown eyes of yours.”

At these latest words from May Otto, it had seemed to spark a small intrigue from Vaya. Her eyes flickered up to meet May’s. “Aha,” said May. “I seem to have finally seen what it was that he was talking about. Some dazzling sparkle you’ve got in those eyes.”

Vaya shifted uncomfortably, lifting herself with her hands to readjust her rear on the cold stone. May started. “Ah yes, we ought to get you comfortable. Off of the cold tile with you, there are places comfier than the floor for you. His grace did mention he might move you to a bedchamber closer to his own, should your meeting with him go well later.”

Vaya knitted her brow. She wondered what it was that the prince had exactly expected to gain from meeting with her. She was a homeless girl, not some spy as they had tried to paint her as. Surely, they had known that. At least the prince had known, or else he would have let her sulk in the Crow’s Quarters just as the other homeless man who had been caught would be.

The two servant ladies finally got her into the tub. It had stung at first, as she slowly lowered herself into the steeping water. She winced, but it had felt good at the same time. Memories prompted her to recall on her own time as a serving girl. She had been servant to Lord Maykeep—a most dreaded time in her life. Sold off from a nursery in Venistar when she was young (yes, May Otto had been correct) and forced to serve her new lord with reverence for his rank as a Dalrin lord. Her escape had been reckless. But she had escaped, nonetheless. And now she was here. She could only pray that her meeting with the prince would not reveal her former life as a piece of Lord Maykeep’s property—or she would surely be sold back to him for a fine coin. She would have to charm the prince. Which, as Vaya knew, would not be hard. No man could ever resist her brown eyes. Sometimes it was to her disadvantage, and it had proved for a scarring childhood.

She was scrubbed, cleaned, and dressed in a baby blue silk dress. Her hair was done into an immaculate braided bun that was twisting into a ball in the back of her head. It was new for Vaya. She couldn’t help but constantly grab the big bun of braided hair with her hand. It was combed and silky. Her dress was thin, and the cold air kept her shivering and feeling exposed. But it would have to do, the servants had reassured her that it was picked out for by the prince himself.

What is with this prince? Thought Vaya. He had seen her for half a second during the last mile of his trip back to the Crow Castle. She thought back on how he had defended her against Sledda—the bulky knight in black who bore menace through those beady eyes. The prince was smaller, she had noticed. His face was quicky fading in her mind thought. She would see it soon enough. Butterflies flew around in the pit of her stomach. More thoughts flashed through her mind. The lady Marris, who had been in this room before her, had seemed to have lost her wits. She was hideous. Even the memory of their encounter unsettled Vaya. Was she the prince’s choice before her? What had he done to her to make her into such an ogre? Vaya pondered on this, concluding that she was just a witch. Perhaps the prince was unsettled by her witch-like manner and had banished her to this high room in the tower.

Vaya was snapped out of her daze when May Otto and the younger servant, Kiss as she was called, rubbed her arm outside of the prince’s quarters. It was quarter to sundown now—six hours since she had been brought up to her high room in the tower. It had felt like six days to Vaya. Time goes slow when you’re in a poorly furnished room made of nothing but cold stone and tile. Just before Vaya was to enter, she felt a sharp tug on her arm. It was May Otto.

“And I’ve almost forgot the important part! This veil. That would have been a disaster. The prince will not see potential suitors without the veil. He does not like to meet a lady without her face veiled at first.”

Potential suitor? Vaya became puzzled at that phrasing. She shrugged. What else could this be about?

The larger-than-life guard in black armor stared into Vaya’s chocolate-colored eyes intensely before opening the door. Whatever menace resided in those eyes did not make Vaya feel welcome. She scooted past him as she went, sliding into the prince’s quarters. The room was stark contrast to her own. It was littered with dozens of red carpets and furry rugs. The bed was larger than three of her own combined, and a chandelier lit up the room like a wildfire. Steam lamps and incense lamps gave off all sorts of scents. The scents overwhelmed Vaya’s nose, causing her to sneeze. She was embarrassed, covering her nose as she sneezed with her long-sleeved silken dress. The black-armored guard stood post just inside the door.

The prince emerged from his tub-room, garbed in a different garb than he had dawned when he found her earlier that day. He wore a fur-lined robe. It was a royal blue with black and white spotted lining. His pants were made of animal Hyde and a fine leather. He held that same somber gaze that she had seen from him when he first found her. The faint traces of a shadow covered his chin. He was sixteen, just beginning to grow hair on his face. Vaya thought it cute but dared not show it. He approached her.

“Darvos, be gone. Your services will be better appreciated just outside my door,” said the Rohinar.

“At once, your grace,” came a low rumbling from Darvos. He shuffled out the door, not turning his back on the room as he did so.

“Giant oaf,” chuckled Rohinar. “He’s more stoic than a war commander in a council. I believe, firmly, that he has a rock for a brain. We are in The Crag, after all.” Rohinar stared, pausing. Vaya couldn’t tell if he could see her face through the veil. “You do know that this is The Crag, right? The kingdom of Dalrin? This is the northern reach, Crow Castle.”

Vaya said nothing but stood with her hands clasped delicately.

Prince Rohinar took another step toward her. Vaya’s heart fluttered. She did not think him handsome but was rather nervous by his presence. She was before a great prince. She did know where she was, but somehow the words would not form. Please remove the veil, my eyes will do the talking for me.

“You look…magnificent.” His eyes scanned her. “Your hair, it looks much better. Cleaner, of course.” He chuckled. Vaya noticed his teeth were quite yellow. Based off his garb, she judged he must have been at a banquet with the king. He had seen Lord Maykeep dress similarly before a royal banquet.

“Do you speak? I have not heard your voice yet. I do have patience, yes, but it need not be tested.” The prince’s jaw tightened. Vaya opened her mouth to speak, and she managed to speak “yes,” but only just louder than a pip’s squeak.

“Are you educated?” asked the prince.

“Of course,” Vaya replied. She had not meant to sound snippy.

“Well then,” said the prince expressively. “Do explain.”

Vaya heaved a deep breath, unclasping her hands as if to begin an explanation. The prince interrupted her first.

“And where are my manners? I must insist that you have a seat. Come, I will show you my view from the balcony.” Rohinar strode across his room, toward an open terrace. Vaya walked the floor, desperate not to trip and make a fool of herself. She felt her face grow hot when noted red stains on the tile. Blood? Wine? She thought of the crazy woman before her, Marris.

The prince glanced back at her. His eyes narrowed for a moment and then he turned back toward his balcony. He drew up a chair for her. He sat beside her, pouring himself a glass of wine. Vaya decided she would decline if offered some, but he did not offer despite a second glass sitting on the table between them.

“You feel it too?” asked the prince, taking a sip of his wine.

Vaya tensed. “Feel what?”

“The tension. I know you feel it.”

“I don’t understand—”

“—I know your secret.” The prince’s lips grew into a slow smirked. He brushed his hair from his face with his hand.

How does he know? He cannot know. I have not told a soul since they sold me from the nursery.

“You are from Venistar,” said Rohinar. Vaya’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t know.

“Why, yes. I am from Venistar. How did you—”

“—your eyes,” he interjected again. “Remove your veil. It is a silly tradition of mine, May Otto did not need subject you to it.”

Vaya removed the veil, keeping her eyes toward the ground.

“Look at me,” said the prince. Vaya’s gaze slowly rose. Her eyes met his. “There it is. The eyes of a Venistar lady. But far, far more beautiful than any Venisi lady I’ve seen. Quite exquisite.”

Vaya only smiled out of courtesy. Her mind was still swirling. She thought he knew. But he couldn’t know. No one does.

“I think you meant to be found.” Rohinar smiled, holding his wine cup with both his hands. “So, tell me. Did you?”

Vaya stalled. She looked before her, at the view off the terrace. She had not even looked until now. The eastern side of the Crow Castle was before them. Dullen skies cast a hazy glow on the evening’s air. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky.

“Yes,” she lied. “I had heard much of Dalrin. Specifically, the Crow Castle. I wanted to see it for myself.”

The prince seemed all too content with himself at those words. “As do all who come from Venistar and our other neighbors. I knew it before you said it. And what is it that attracts all who wander this way? Who risk stalking the northern reach, across The Crag and the guarded paths?”

“The rock,” replied Vaya. She was guessing now.

“Don’t be daft.”

Wrong guess. Try again. “Erm, I meant to say that it is more about the…” Vaya looked out before her at the clearing ahead. She muttered the first thing she saw. “It is the tree.”

“Ahhhh, and the truth comes out. Only took one questioning, though. I like that. You know, most of the Venisi men and women I find stalking these lands will never admit to seeking the Silver Tree. But you…you just gave it to me on the first questioning. You may know how to play your cards with me, after all.”

Vaya wondered what the Silver Tree was. She had glanced up and seen quite a large, isolated tree sitting in the center of the courtyard down below. Her eyes darted to Prince Rohinar’s. He almost jumped in his seat.

“Perhaps I should have kept that veil over that face. Your eyes. They are blinding. Intoxicating, even.”

Yes. Let him drink them in. Give him small doses for now, or the novelty will soon wear off. Vaya smiled to herself, dropping her eyes to the ground and crosses one of her feet over the other in a shy manner.

“Do not be shy, lady. What do they call you, anyways?”

“Vaya.”

“Ah, I see. You Venisi folk and your ‘v-names’. It is a tradition, I suppose.”

“Exactly, your grace.”

“Please. Call me Prince Rohinar. Rohinar, is fine, if it please you.” Rohinar moved to one knee in front of Vaya, taking her hand in his. He gave it a delicate kiss. He lifted his eyes to her face, but Vaya kept her eyes down. Not that easy. Not this soon.

The prince rose to his feet. “I look forward to our next meeting. I shall speak of your beauty to my father. He may have a better use for you, yet. Regardless, you shall prove a valuable asset for my plans.” He walked toward the door. “Darvos. Return her to the tower. And see to it that she gets a proper meal. She is far too lean.”

Darvos shook the floor with his heavy steps. Vaya rose from her seat on the terrace. Darvos flung her over his shoulder, carrying her back to her tower.

“You know I can walk, right?” she grunted. Darvos did not seem to hear well.

Later that night, Vaya lay in her bed awake. She lay with the prince’s ring in her hands. She had slipped it from his finger when he took her hand in his. The fine jewel shined in the mount of his ring. So desperate for a look at my eyes that he forgets all feeling elsewhere. She smirked. Too easy.

It was not until much later that she finally found sleep. And when she finally did, she dreamed of the prince and the Silver Tree.