It was already night at Ashford. The tourney grounds were empty. I could hear distant laughter from another part of the castle and wine cups clinking together.
I closed my eyes and reached for the raven.
The shift happened quickly. One moment I was lying in my bad, in my room in Ashford. Next I was flying in open sky.
I flapped my wings and rose into the air.
Everything looked different through the raven's eyes. Sharper. Clearer. I could see individual blades of grass in the moonlight. I could smell the horses below and hear the wind moving through the castle stones.
I flew higher.
From up here, Ashford looked small—just walls and tents spread out across the ground. The jousting field was nothing but trampled dirt. Even the castle seemed tiny.
I circled once, then turned toward the crossroads.
The old inn sat where I'd left it days ago. Lamplight glowed in the windows. A horse shuffled in the yard. Someone laughed inside.
I remembered meeting Prince Daeron and Egg there.
The raven croaked softly.
I left the inn behind and flew north toward the lake.
The lake was smooth and dark under the moon. When I passed over it, dragonflies rose in clouds—hundreds of them with wings that caught the light. Blue, green, and gold, all moving together.
The raven wanted them.
Dive. Catch. Eat.
The urge was strong. My wings twitched. My beak opened slightly.
But I pushed the feeling down and flew past the lake, climbing higher.
Not tonight.
I rose until the wind rushed past my feathers, then folded my wings and dropped. I fell fast toward the ground, pulling up at the last moment to glide low over the tents. Sparks from the cookfires scattered behind me.
That's when I heard shouting, no screamings.
Men were running. Torches flared to life. Guards came out of their tents, grabbing weapons.
They were all heading toward the edge of camp, near where the merchants kept their animals.
My stomach tightened.
I flew closer.
I saw wooden spikes stuck in the ground. Five of them.
Each one had a head on top.
The torchlight made their faces look strange—pale and yellow. Their mouths hung open.
I circled lower.
The first head belonged to an old man with a white beard.
The second was a sellsword with scars and missing teeth.
The third was a boy about Egg's age. His dark hair was matted with blood.
The fourth was Tanselle.
I recognized her hair and the shape of her face. The face that had smiled at me a day ago, when I'd warned her about the dragon puppet.
Her eyes were closed. Her head swayed slightly in the breeze.
I felt something crack inside my chest.
Why?
I'd left her alive and safe. She'd been painting puppets and humming to herself. She'd promised to change the dragon to a wyvern. She'd thanked me.
And now she was dead.
I kept circling, staring at her face.
Then I saw the fifth head—another sellsword I didn't recognize—and beyond the spikes stood Prince Aerion.
He wore a purple cloak that looked red in the torchlight. He was smiling. Not wild or crazy, just… pleased. Like everything had gone exactly as he'd wanted.
He leaned toward one of his guards and said something.
The guard laughed.
Something hot rushed through me.
I didn't think about it. I just folded my wings and dove.
The air whistled past me. Aerion was still talking, still smiling. He didn't notice me until I was right there.
I hit him hard, My right claw caught his face and sank in deep, finding his eye.
Warm wetness on my talons.
Aerion stumbled backward, both hands flying to his face. Blood ran between his fingers. He kept screaming.
Guards shouted. Metal scraped as they drew their swords.
I was already beating my wings, climbing fast. Blood dripped from my claws.
Below me, Aerion fell to his knees. One hand pressed against his ruined eye. The other reached up uselessly.
His guards surrounded him, yelling and waving torches.
An arrow flew past my wing but missed by several feet.
I climbed higher into the darkness where they couldn't see me or follow.
My heart was pounding hard. Part of me—the raven part—wanted to keep flying and never stop.
But underneath the fear was a cold satisfaction.
It wasn't justice. It wasn't enough. One eye for one life didn't balance anything.
I flew until my wings ached. Ashford became a distant glow behind me. Then I turned back.
When slipped back into my body, I just lay there staring up at the wooden beams.
My face was wet.
I hadn't realized I was crying.
I looked down at my hands in the dark. There was blood under my fingernails.
I stood up from the straw bed and grabbed my cloak.
I had to see her. Had to see what they'd done with my own eyes, not just through a raven's.
The camp was quiet as I walked through it. Most men were either drunk in their tents or still at the castle feast. A few guards watched me pass but said nothing. A big hedge knight walking alone at night wasn't unusual.
I headed toward the edge of camp where the animal pens were. Where the spikes were.
I was halfway there when someone stepped out of the shadows.
"Ser Duncan."
I stopped.
Prince Baelor Breakspear stood in my path. Even in the dim torchlight, he looked tired. He wore simple clothing, not his armor, but he still moved like a warrior.
Behind me, I heard quick footsteps. Egg came running up, breathing hard.
"Ser Duncan, wait—"
Baelor raised a hand. "Guards. Take the prince back to his chambers."
"But Uncle—" Egg started.
"Now," Baelor said firmly. His voice wasn't angry, just sad.
Two guards in Targaryen colors appeared. Egg looked at me, his purple eyes wide and confused. I nodded slightly. He didn't fight as they led him away.
When Egg was gone, Baelor looked at me.
"You heard what happened."
It wasn't a question.
"I heard shouting," I said. My voice sounded rough. "I was going to see—"
"Don't." Baelor stepped closer. "There's nothing to see that will help you. Just death and Aerion's cruelty."
"Tanselle," I said. "The puppet girl. She's—"
"Dead. Yes." Baelor's jaw tightened. "She and four others, Aerion had them executed."
Executed.
Not killed. Not murdered. *Executed.* Like it was justice.
"Why?" I asked, though I already knew part of the answer.
Baelor looked away toward the distant torches where the spikes stood. "They performed a puppet show five days ago. In it, a knight slew a dragon."
"She was going to change it," I said quickly. "I told her last night it could be seen as an insult to your house. She promised to make it a wyvern instead, not a dragon."
Baelor's eyebrows rose slightly. "You spoke with her?"
"Yes. I warned her. She understood."
"Then someone must have seen the dragon puppet before she could change it," Baelor said quietly. "Or perhaps she didn't have time. Either way, Aerion heard about it. He declared it treason against House Targaryen."
My hands clenched into fists. "It was a puppet."
"I know." Baelor's voice was heavy. "But my brother sees insults everywhere. And he has the authority to pass judgment as a prince of the blood."
"So he killed five people over a wooden toy."
"Yes."
I felt sick.
Baelor watched me carefully. "There's something else you should know. There were... rumors."
"What rumors?"
"That Tanselle was your lover."
I stared at him. "What? I only met her once. Last night. We spoke for maybe ten minutes."
"I know," Baelor said. "I believe you. But rumors don't need truth. Someone saw you talking with her. Saw you give her your shield to paint. By this afternoon, half the camp was whispering that the tall hedge knight had found himself a Dornish girl."
My stomach turned to ice.
"You think Aerion heard that."
"I think," Baelor said carefully, "that my brother was already angry about the puppet. And when he heard there might be a connection to you—it gave him another reason to act."
"So he killed her to hurt me."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps just because he could." Baelor's face was grim. "Aerion doesn't need good reasons. He enjoys cruelty for its own sake."
I thought about the smile on Aerion's face. The way he'd leaned toward his guard and whispered something funny.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
Baelor's eyes sharpened. "Why?"
"I want to see him."
"That would be unwise."
"I don't care."
"Ser Duncan." Baelor's voice went hard. "Listen to me carefully. Aerion is injured. A raven attacked him few moments ago. Took out his right eye."
I kept my face blank. "A raven?"
"Yes. It dove from the sky and clawed his face, then flew away before anyone could stop it." Baelor watched me closely. "Strange, isn't it? Ravens don't usually attack people."
"Animals do strange things sometimes," I said.
"Yes. They do." Baelor didn't look away. "Aerion is with the maesters now. He's in pain and he's furious. If you go near him tonight, he'll have you arrested. Or worse."
"He murdered an innocent woman."
"He executed five people he deemed guilty of treason," Baelor corrected. "That's how it will be recorded. That's how the law will see it."
"The law is wrong."
"Often it is." Baelor's voice softened. "But you cannot change what happened. And you cannot fight my brother. Not like this."
"Yeah, Not like this...
...