The Crow That’s After Me

Chapter 10 — 

It was afternoon, and Elena thought, Maybe I should take a short nap.
Just as she rubbed her dry eyes, she heard something hard tapping against the window glass.

“Donovan!”

She wanted to jump up, but her body didn’t move as quickly as her heart.
Slowly, she walked to the window and opened it.

Caw! Caw!

“Yes, I know. I missed you too.”

She stroked Donovan’s beak gently and noticed a small note tied to his leg.
Glancing behind to make sure Mary wasn’t around, Elena quickly untied it.

“Sunset is a good time to pray.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she murmured.

She hid the paper in her palm and walked toward the fireplace.
Donovan, perched happily on her shoulder, chirped and sang as if showing off.

Before throwing the note into the fire, Elena reread it once more.
The northern winter sun set early—only two hours from now, it would start getting dark.

“Ma’am, the tea is ready. I heard that bird squawking again, so I brought some snacks too.”

“Well done, Mary.”

“Don’t think a compliment will make me forgive you now!”

Mary crossed her arms and turned her head away, clearly still sulking.
Elena smiled faintly. If she’d ever had a younger sister, she imagined she’d be just like Mary.

Receiving news from Fido had lifted her spirits.

“Come now, sit and have tea with me,” Elena said. “You like these snacks, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh, but eating alone feels tasteless… at least sit with me, won’t you?”

Finally, Mary sat down across from her.
Elena poured tea into Mary’s cup, Donovan still dangling from her shoulder.

The familiar scent of the tea relaxed her.
Everything would have been peaceful if Donovan weren’t tugging at the ribbon around her neck.

“Please have some sweets, ma’am. You’ve barely eaten anything lately.”

“Yes, you too—eat up,” Elena replied.

Elena took a bite of her biscuit, and Mary followed suit.
As she sipped her slightly cooled tea, Elena absentmindedly stroked Donovan’s feathers.

“I think I’ll go pray,” she said softly.

“Again?” Mary asked.

“I must pray for a healthy heir.”

Mary nodded, understanding at once.

“Would you like to come with me?” Elena teased, turning to Donovan.

The crow let out a sharp Caw! as if replying. Both women laughed.
Elena felt a strange sense of calm—perhaps even hope—that things might turn out well.

When the sun began to set, she bundled herself in warm clothes and headed toward the chapel.
At the chapel door, she stopped and looked back at Mary.

“You wait here.”

“But, ma’am…”

“I’ll just pray and come right out. What’s there to worry about?”

“No. I’ll stay by your side,” Mary insisted firmly.

Elena sighed inwardly, pretending to be embarrassed.

“I don’t want anyone to see me praying over something so… trivial.”

“Trivial? This is about the future of House Barsian!”

“Before God, I’m just another woman wishing for a child,” Elena said gently, taking Mary’s hand.

“I’ll only be a moment, truly.”

Mary reluctantly nodded.

“Good girl,” Elena smiled, brushing her cheek before stepping inside the chapel with Donovan.

Left alone, Mary kicked at the ground nervously.

Caw! Caw!

“Shh,” Elena hushed the bird as she lit a candle and knelt down.
She had told Mary she was here to pray, but truthfully, that wasn’t her intention.

As she gazed silently at the statue of the Moon God, Donovan suddenly hopped behind it.

“Of course, even crows go on journeys,” said a boyish voice.

“Fido?” Elena whispered, startled.

Hearing Donovan’s happy cry confirmed it—it was him.

“It’s all right, come out. I’m alone,” she said.

But Fido refused. “No. It’s better if you don’t see me.”

“Why?”

After a pause, he spoke again. “We don’t have much time. So… where should the crow travel to?”

“The south,” Elena answered.

“No problem. Crows often fly even over the sea to distant islands.”

Elena’s heart raced.

“But he needs to know the destination.”

“How do I do that?”

“When training messenger crows,” Fido explained, “the knights make them memorize the Barsian family crest and the faces of the knights themselves. Crows are smart—they can tell people apart.”

Elena nodded. Donovan couldn’t fly to her family in the south right away, but he could learn their crest.

“Place the Barsian crest beside the crest of the family you want Donovan to reach.
Teach him to recognize the difference. When he chooses correctly, reward him with treats.
You’ll need patience,” Fido said kindly.

“Thank you, Fido,” Elena whispered, deeply moved.
He had risked his life just to answer her question.

“I have one small favor to ask,” he added.

“Go on.”

“Please take care of Donovan.”

Elena’s heart tightened. His tone was that of someone saying goodbye.

“Why are you entrusting him to me?”

“Donovan prefers people to other crows,” Fido said.
“He was the weakest chick, pushed out of the nest by his siblings.”

As if understanding, Donovan made a faint sound in his throat.

“Everyone thought he would die. They told me I could keep him only if I managed to save him.
And I did—see? He lived.”

No wonder Donovan loved human affection so much.

“But I don’t have much time left. I’m dying, ma’am.”

“What are you saying?” Elena covered her mouth in shock.

“You know I’m illegitimate,” Fido said calmly.

Yes, she knew. Her own father had faced endless political enemies to keep his dukedom.
The Selamga family was no different—noble, yes, but far from innocent.
Politics was a game of survival: strike first, or be struck down.

By rank, Fido was second in line to succeed after Theodore.
The fact that Theodore hadn’t killed him yet was a miracle in itself.

Even so, Elena clenched her fists.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” Fido went on quietly.
“I’ve been sick for so long that I can’t even remember what it feels like not to hurt.”

He was only a boy—about the same age as her own nephews.
Far too young to give up on life.

Elena stared at the floor, hands clasped together—not in prayer to any god,
but because she felt helpless.

She couldn’t save him, and even if she could, she shouldn’t.
She had no standing to beg the Barsians’ hated illegitimate son’s life to be spared.
If anyone used Fido as a rallying point for rebellion, her own future child would be endangered.

The thought disgusted her—calculating politics even while a dying boy spoke to her.
But that was how she had been raised.
She did not believe in gods.
If gods existed, they would have punished the Selamgas long ago.

“I once heard that southern women are all beautiful,” Fido said softly.
“My mother must have been beautiful too, like you, ma’am.”

Elena swallowed back tears.

“Karina Barsian was one of the most lively and beautiful women in the capital,” she said.

She remembered meeting Karina once, years ago, at a royal ball hosted by the princess herself.
Elena had been a young girl then, not yet debuted into society, but had been invited to attend.

“She had golden hair like the rising sun,” Elena said gently,
“and soft brown eyes the color of hazelnuts… just like yours.”

Fido fell silent, perhaps picturing his mother’s face.
“Thank you,” he whispered.

“I’m lucky to have met you before dying.
Now I think I’ll be able to recognize my mother’s face.”

His words pierced Elena’s heart.
Like her, he had lost his mother too young to remember her warmth.
She wiped her tears quietly.

“You should go now,” he said. “If you stay too long, they’ll suspect something.”

“Very well,” she said, rising unsteadily.

“Ma’am,” Fido called softly, stopping her one last time.
“Please check your silverware—whenever you eat or drink tea.”

The words hit her like a blow.
She suddenly felt nauseated, the food she’d eaten earlier turning in her stomach.

Clutching her chest, she stumbled out of the chapel and vomited as soon as she reached outside.

Mary rushed over, patting her back.
“Ma’am! What’s wrong? Are you ill? Did something spoil?”

So that was why Fido hadn’t shown himself sooner.
He must have realized he’d been poisoned—arsenic, perhaps—and didn’t want her to see him suffering.
Tears dripped down Elena’s face.

Would Theodore do the same to her? Poison her food, seeking revenge on the royal family?

Mary had been right. The Grand Duke of Barsian was not what he seemed—
and the truth beneath his mask was something Elena didn’t wish to know.

“Let’s go back,” she whispered weakly. “I don’t feel well…”

“Ma’am! What on earth is happening?” Mary cried, trying to hold her up.
Seeing she couldn’t manage alone, she called over a nearby guard.

Together, they carried Elena back to her chambers.
After seating her on the sofa, the soldier bowed and left.

Mary poured her some water, but Elena refused, staring blankly at the porcelain cup.

“I thought I was better,” she murmured. “I even drank wine with His Grace last night.”

Mary nodded. “Yes, you overdid it yesterday too.”

“I should’ve listened to you and stayed here instead of going to the chapel,” Elena said faintly.

“Should I call the doctor?”

“No, it’s fine. I feel better now,” Elena assured her.

As the shock began to fade, she absently touched her fingers together on her lap.

Arsenic had no color or smell—but it tarnished silver.
That was why nobles always used silver dishes and cutlery.
House Barsian was no exception.

If even a trace of poison had been in her food, the silver would have changed color—she would have noticed.
So perhaps the poison hadn’t been in her meal after all.
Maybe Fido discovered it too late, or maybe he had known but could not refuse it.

At least Theodore hadn’t poisoned her food yet.
At least, not yet.

But if he used something other than arsenic…?

Elena pressed her fingers to her forehead, trembling slightly.