The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) by Andrew Walbrown (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📕

“Good, Amantius,” Morganna said as she began to caress his arm. “You did me, us, all a great service.”

“I did?” He replied, unsure of how that could be true, “You’re not angry? You don’t want my head on a stake?”

“I would, but I am afraid that would ruin our conversation.” Morganna laughed, her humor as dark as her hair. “That is exactly the kind of thinking our outfit has been missing for so long. We have been missing a sense of humanity. We have been so focused on defeating warbands and overthrowing my brother that we have not stopped to consider what comes afterward.”

“And what comes afterward?” Amantius asked, though he was not sure if he should have. After all, most people still viewed him as an outsider and probably would not be comfortable if they ever discovered he knew what their plan was going forward.

“Ah, yes, afterward,” Morganna said as she sipped her wine. “It is all a ruse, smoke and mirrors, if you will. We have caused a great deal of havoc here for some time; you undoubtedly heard the stories about the Mad Raven when you arrived in Silverwater. We need the populace to fear something, to need someone to be their savior.”

“What if the people in Silverwater do not accept you, though?” Amantius interrupted. “What if their loyalty to Count Aldamar is strong enough that they are willing to fight against you? After all, we dress as hell-beasts from a different plane.”

Morganna nearly choked on her wine as the words left Amantius’ mouth. “The common man does not care about coups, they only want to be left alone and not taxed too much. The real threat is whomever my brother has under his payroll when we strike, and those who are closest to him.”

Like Ulam. The idea that Ulam may be in the castle defending the Count when Morganna launches her assault stirred mixed emotions within Amantius. On one hand he wanted Morganna to succeed, to usurp Aldamar and bring peace to Silverwater County. On the other hand, he did not want to run the risk of him and Ulam being on different sides.

“But I digress,” Morganna continued, “our tactics are fairly straightforward, however, timing will be of the essence. We need to sneak into Silverwater, preferably in darkness, and penetrate the castle before anyone sounds the alarm. Once inside we will only have a matter of minutes to locate Aldamar and defeat him. After that is accomplished we will announce my brother’s assassination along with news that his sister will take his place as Countess of Silverwater. In the following days, I will officially arrive, send out a warband of our own, and ‘slay the Mad Raven.’ Thus making my brother’s rule appear weak and ineffective while demonstrating my value to the city.”

Amantius mulled over the plan in his wine-soaked mind, thinking it sounded plausible. The lies and deceit needed for the scheme to succeed did not settle well with him, however not much had been agreeable with him lately. Whatever little hope he had nurtured about living an adventurous life void of hardships had been crushed out of his soul by a metaphysical mortar and pestle. Now all he could do was weigh his options, and choose the one that was easiest to stomach.

“Timing will be critical,” he said finally. “And I guess this also explains the costumes.”

Morganna smiled proudly. “That was precisely what I had in mind the first time we wore the outfits. The small warband will return with the ‘heads’ of the Mad Raven and her Flock. Essentially, they will gather a bunch of our helmets and parade them through the streets. The people will love us, they will love me. They will have forgotten my brother by the end of the week.”

Amantius nodded, though there was still one more aspect of Morganna’s strategy that irked him. Aldamar’s defeat, what does that even mean? Kill him I assume, but maybe she doesn’t want to since he is family. Even if Ulam was evil I don’t know if I could do it. Probably not. “What are you going to say when you see him?”

“Say? I do not know.” Morganna said as she began to slide her dress off her left shoulder, “But I will repay him for this.”

Just above her left breast, near her heart, was a scar silvered with time. With her free hand she stroked the blemish, a pain washing over her face as she did so. The glow from the candles magnified the contrast between the scar and her perfect, smooth skin, which captured Amantius’ entire attention.

“He gave that to you?” Amantius whispered.

“Oh yes,” Morganna replied. “He tried to kill me after he murdered our father. Luckily he missed my heart; the blade only cutting deep enough to wound me. When I touch it I can still feel the ice-cold blade piercing my skin. I can see the maniacal look on his face. I can still feel the betrayal.” She looked at Amantius and reached out for his hand. “Here, feel for yourself.”

Amantius wanted to reach out and touch her, to have his hand make contact with her skin. He could not tell if his heart had stopped or if it was beating so quickly that it had gone numb. He was not a fool; he knew what would happen if he sat by her on the sofa and felt the area above her breasts. He knew his hands, and hers, would drift to different parts of each other’s bodies. The entire night had been leading to this moment, this was only the next step. The debate was not whether he wanted to touch Morganna, to use this as an avenue for a more romantic, or passionate, evening. He had been dreaming of this moment ever since he laid eyes on her. The question was whether or not he was ready for the consequences from the next day onward.

“Let me get closer,” Amantius said as he moved next to her,