The Raven Heir

  For Ollie and Jamie Samphire.

  I love you both exactly equally

  Books by Stephanie Burgis

  The Dragon with a Chocolate Heart

  The Girl with the Dragon Heart

  The Princess Who Flew with Dragons

  The Raven Heir

  ‘Are not these woods more free from peril than the envious court?’

  – William Shakespeare, As You Like It

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgements

  The Raven Heir Quiz

  About the Author

  Beyond the castle’s moat, the deep, dark forest was shot through with trails of sunlight, tracing golden paths of possibility. Robins sang from hidden branches while swifts dived and darted over the sun-dappled water. They were all wild with the first taste of summer, and so was the dark-haired girl who sat, bare feet dangling against stone, on the windowsill of her tower bedroom, watching them fly.

  Inside the castle, her mother and her older brother, Connall, were busy in the herbarium as usual, casting stinking enchantments to protect their home against the world. Cordelia’s triplet sister, Rosalind, was loudly bashing mock enemies in the first inner courtyard, using the latest long stick that she’d adopted as a sword. Their triplet brother, Giles, strummed a lute soulfully in his tower bedroom high above, windows left open to spread his endless wailing song through the warm air.

  But outside the castle, the birds were free, and so could Cordelia be, if only—

  No! Catching herself leaning forward, she forced herself to stop before wings could sprout from her back.

  She couldn’t turn bird and fly out into the sunshine. Not today. She’d promised Mother never to do it again without Connall’s supervision, even though that was a ridiculous rule. It meant only going out once or twice a week, when she wanted to fly free every day. They lived all alone in the centre of an enchanted forest. Who could possibly hurt her among the trees? And why would they want to?

  But those were questions that Mother would never answer, like everything else about their family’s past … and the last time Cordelia had given in to temptation and flown free on her own for one delicious, stolen afternoon, Mother had cast a cloud of dark smoke to wrap tightly around her window for an entire week in punishment. So Cordelia only sighed and tipped her head back now to soak in the gorgeous warmth of the sunshine on her face and the vast, familiar murmuring of the deep forest around her …

  Until harsh voices called out suddenly in the distance.

  She jerked upright, eyes flying open. No animals in the forest made sounds like that! Sixteen-year-old Connall’s voice was the closest she could think of – but even his wasn’t nearly so deep.

  ‘Mother?’ she whispered.

  If her mother had been paying attention, she would have heard that whisper through the tug of connection that she’d laid upon all her children. Spellcasting must have taken all her focus, though, for Cordelia still sat, uncertain and unanswered, on her windowsill a minute later when the first grown men she’d ever seen burst through the trees into the narrow clearing beyond the moat, wearing armour that clanked and flashed in the sunlight.

  ‘There!’ The first one strode forward, as big and hulking himself as the raging bear painted on his shield. A great black beard jutted out beneath his iron helmet. ‘The sorceress’s castle – and no dragons guarding the gate after all!’

  ‘None that we’ve seen … yet.’ The man who answered was lean and poised, like the wolf who snarled on his own shield – and he looked every bit as ready to spring. His head turned, predatory gaze sweeping the clearing. ‘We may have slipped past her outer shields with our ploy, but that’s no guarantee of our safety from now on.’

  Cordelia held her breath, unmoving on her perch, as more and more armoured men and women flooded out of the trees behind the first two. Each of them carried a shield with a wolf or a bear in one hand and a long, sharp-looking sword in the other, and they took up position behind their two leaders.

  Too late to change into a bird for safety now! She should have slipped inside before, if only her insatiable curiosity had allowed it. Her feet and arms were nearly as pale as stone, though, and her comfortable old linen gown – carefully ripped along the sides to allow herself proper adventures – was a deep green that matched the ivy on the walls. Perhaps they wouldn’t notice her?

  ‘No dragon,’ said the leader of the wolf-knights, ‘but a little spy watching us with big eyes for her mistress. You, girl!’ he called out. ‘Tell the Dowager Duchess she has visitors!’

  The Dowager Duchess? Cordelia stared at him.

  There were no duchesses in their castle. No one lived with their family at all except for Mother’s friend Alys, who looked after the goats, argued with Mother over what to plant in the kitchen gardens, and was almost always covered in dirt up to her bony elbows.

  On long winter evenings in the great hall, after Giles had finished singing his latest ballads, Mother would often summon up a pile of tiny scented silk-bound books to read out loud to all of them. Cordelia had heard of elegant, powerful duchesses in those pages, along with queens and countesses and fiercely beautiful knights in armour … but none of them sounded anything like Alys.

  ‘The girl’s obviously simple,’ said the leader of the bear-soldiers. ‘No sense looking for any help there.’ Shaking his head, he cupped his big hands around his mouth and bellowed, ‘Sorceress, reveal yourself! Or we’ll attack!’

  Cordelia winced. Mother wasn’t going to like that threat at all!

  For one long moment, silence hung over the clearing. Even the birds in the forest stopped calling. They were wise enough to hide in times like these.

  Then Cordelia felt Mother rush towards them through the castle, grabbing out for the whole family at once – not her usual gentle brush against their thoughts, but a hot, frantic swipe.

  CORDELIA!

  I’m fine! Cordelia hastily pushed her own thoughts back at her mother. But there are men at the gate. They—

  The great silver portcullis flung itself open, and her mother exploded through it. She was still wearing her stained working apron from the herbarium, and more than half of her long dark hair had twisted free of its constraining plait. But Mother never needed to look tidy to be imposing.

  Long weeds from the bottom of the moat shot up and wove themselves together to build a living drawbridge for her to stalk across in fury. Bobbing shapes beneath the green moss and lily pads burst upward as she passed, revealing venomous snakes, long and coiling, heading straight for the invaders. They swam as fast as shadows, and the closest soldiers jumped back, shouting at the sight of them.

  I should have thought to change into one of them, Cordelia thought wistfully.

  It was too late to hide among the water snakes now. Mother’s voice snapped through Cordelia’s head as she stalked forward:

  Get off that windowsill now. Out of sight!

  Ugh! Cordelia scrambled back into her bedroom and sank obediently to the floor beneath the window … for a moment. Then she lifted herself just enough to peer outside.

  I
t wasn’t as if she was in any danger now that Mother was here. If anyone would simply take the time to explain—

  ‘Make way!’ A hard push shoved her aside, and Rosalind took her place. ‘I want to see!’

  ‘Go somewhere else!’ Cordelia shoved her sister back, hard. ‘You’ve got your own room!’

  ‘But you’ve got the best view.’

  ‘Out of the way, runts!’ Giles skidded in behind them, panting, and squeezed his way into the middle. ‘I couldn’t hear anything from my tower.’

  ‘Not over the sound of your own voice, you mean,’ muttered Rosalind.

  Cordelia snorted in agreement.

  ‘Shh!’ Connall stepped into the room behind them. ‘Quiet.’

  It was a spell, not an order; the lips of all three triplets sealed themselves shut against their wills. Cordelia gritted her teeth, Giles sighed through his nose, and Rosalind punched out wildly, her face reddening with rage – but their older brother ignored the blow, leaning over all of them with his gaze intent and his light brown hands braced around Cordelia’s windowsill.

  Now Cordelia couldn’t even see what was happening through her own window! In her family, she could never keep anything for herself.

  She could still hear their mother’s voice, though. ‘… bellowing at my door as if you had any right to intrude on my home after all these years?’

  ‘Duchess.’ That was the leader of the wolf-knights, his voice smoother than his friend’s. ‘We apologise for the rudeness of our greeting. We fought long and hard to reach your gate, and our manners were strained by the journey.’

  ‘My patience has been strained more than enough.’ Mother’s voice was colder than Cordelia had ever heard it. ‘State your business and begone, all of you.’

  ‘Alas, we bring grave news that will not be dismissed so easily,’ said the wolf-leader. ‘King Edmund – long rest his soul – is dead.’

  Cordelia felt Mother’s gasp; it was a ripple of unease that billowed through their connection, sending a disconcerting chill through Cordelia’s body before Mother snapped her emotions tightly shut, closing herself off from everyone. ‘And?’ she demanded. ‘What has that to do with me?’

  ‘Your game is over, sorceress,’ snarled the bear-leader. ‘You’ve lost. You won’t hide the heir from us any longer! And if it were up to me, I can tell you—’

  ‘It is time, madam,’ interrupted the wolf-leader, ‘to return to our kingdom at long last so your child may rule over all of us.’

  Cordelia knew the taste of secrets. It was the bitterness that coated her tongue each time her mother walked away from another question about the past, why they had to hide inside their castle, and why no other humans were allowed into their forest. Over the years, she’d come up with a thousand different stories to make up for it.

  She had never imagined this one.

  Connall, a king? Her skin tingled with the thrill of discovery – but Connall’s face tightened with visible panic as he stared out of the window at their visitors.

  ‘You’re wasting your time here!’ His voice hadn’t cracked in years, but it cracked now, and his long fingers clenched around Cordelia’s windowsill as he leaned forward to shout down at them. ‘There’s no one here but me and my mother and our servants!’

  Servants?

  Giles’s eyebrows shot up in exaggerated outrage, and Rosalind made a rude gesture at their older brother, but Cordelia’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Even more secrets.

  ‘Give it up, Lord Connall.’ That was the bear-leader, his deep voice dripping with disdain. ‘We won’t be taken in by any lies. We know the babe your mother carried was safely born in this cursed forest. Every seer in the nation agrees.’

  Surely no one would speak to their future king that way.

  But Connall had a different father from his younger siblings; Cordelia had teased that much out of him years ago. So, if the crown wasn’t coming to him …

  Giles’s pale freckled face shone with excitement as he jabbed one finger at his own skinny chest. Of course Giles would love to be a king! Then he could force everyone to listen to his songs whether they wanted to or not.

  Rosalind shook her head fiercely, pointing at her own chest … and then, shrugging, she pointed to Cordelia.

  It was true. None of them knew which had been born first.

  It could be any of us.

  ‘I told you years ago,’ their mother snapped, ‘my family renounces all claim to the Raven Throne. Let it go to any fool who wants it – anyone but my children. Take it yourself, for all I care!’

  The bear-leader let out a wordless growl. ‘If you think—!’

  ‘You may have given up the throne on your children’s behalf,’ cut in the wolf-leader, ‘but – forgive me, madam – they inherit through their father, the late Duke of Harcourt, not through you. His family will never allow you to deprive his heirs of their rightful position.’

  ‘Rightful position?’ Mother’s voice rose to a shriek of fury. ‘I’ve seen what happens to the pawns in this battle! The moment my children leave this forest, they’ll be targets for every rival to the throne. How many of your great kings have ever survived more than a year after their own coronations? And how many—?’

  ‘I’ll chop off your head myself before I allow you to steal my cousin’s legacy, witch!’ the bear-leader bellowed back. ‘You’ll never stop his child from inheriting the throne!’

  Arrows flew at his roar, a clap of thunder sounded from Mother’s outflung hands in return, and screaming harpies made of ivy launched themselves from the castle walls.

  As the scene outside descended into pointless fighting, Cordelia sighed and scooted backwards, leaving her space at the windowsill to her siblings. Over the years, she’d had more than enough experience watching Mother fight off everything from giant rabid bears to the most terrifying magical workings created by Connall in their joint practice-battle sessions.

  It wasn’t as if human soldiers could offer her any challenge by comparison.

  The others shouldered into Cordelia’s abandoned space immediately, their eager gazes fixed outside. Rosalind’s right arm jerked back and forth, making sword-fighting gestures as if she could implant herself in the battle by sheer force of will. Even Connall was fully focused on the conflict as he leaned over the other two.

  So no one noticed when Cordelia shifted into a small brown mouse and skittered across the stone floor, away from them.

  Mice were lovely for keeping out of sight. Still, they weren’t the fastest of creatures, and she was in a hurry. Mother wouldn’t take long to send those soldiers packing. As the intruders’ shouts of rage turned into fear, Cordelia raced as quickly as she could out of the room and on to the narrow stone platform that overlooked the sunny main courtyard. As soon as she was safely outside, she shifted into a cat, long-legged, sleek and muscular.

  Much better! She twitched her dark grey tail with satisfaction and shook out her supple cream-coloured body. Her pointed ears swivelled, following a soft humming sound in the distance even as distracting scents rose up to call to her sensitive nose from all directions.

  There.

  She knew that sound. Alys was puttering around the kitchen gardens, humming the tune that Mother had always sung to the children when they were small and needed comfort. If anyone knew the answers Cordelia needed, it would be her … and if Cordelia got to her while Mother was distracted, she might even admit to some of them.

  Springing as a cat felt almost as glorious as flying. Cordelia leaped from the stone platform and landed safely on all four grey paws on the weathered paving stones where Rosalind had practised fighting earlier. The upturned clay urns and broken plants were still there to prove it, along with the discarded sword-stick. Cordelia jumped carefully over her sister’s mess, whiskers prickling with distaste, then sped for the ivy-covered stone archway that led towards the second inner courtyard.

  There were no hard paving stones here. It had been planted long ago w
ith gardens that filled the air with flavour and drew bees and other insects from the forest. Large chickens bustled about self-importantly, making rounds and clucking loudly as Cordelia prowled through the archway. The family’s three grumpy goats, Honey, Marmalade and Muck, stood chewing and glowering menacingly at Alys as she knelt over the herb beds, still humming to herself. She didn’t seem to notice the pointed glares of the goats, the distant shouts of battle, or anything else …

  Until Cordelia landed on her wiry back, claws extended, and firmly nuzzled her slim neck.

  ‘Ack!’ Herbs scattered everywhere as Alys jerked with shock.

  Cordelia loved being a cat! She twisted neatly in mid-air as she fell and shifted back into her own human body as she landed on the ground.

  ‘I might have known.’ Groaning, Alys scooped up the cut herbs that she’d dropped and deposited them in a large bowl nearby. ‘Shouldn’t Connall be looking after you, you menace?’

  Cordelia pointed at her closed lips.

  ‘Oh, you lot!’ Shaking her head, Alys reached into her apron and took out the polished grey river stone that Mother had given her years ago. She touched it lightly to Cordelia’s face, then turned back to the herb bed, dropping the stone into her pocket for the next time it was needed.

  ‘Connall’s busy,’ said Cordelia. She curled her legs on the grass beside Alys and propped herself on one arm with her hand buried in the rich, warm soil of the herb bed. She could almost feel the worms burrowing busily underneath – but she forced herself to cut off that thought immediately.

  She could wriggle in worm shape almost any time she wanted. The moment that Mother swept back into the castle, though, her chance to trick anything useful out of Alys would be gone.

  ‘I was just wondering, for no particular reason …’ Cordelia tilted her head back and gazed up into the blue sky, as if she had nothing more important to do with her life than stay trapped in one place, only following those shifting white clouds with her eyes. ‘Do you happen to remember which of us was born first?’