“Why didn’t you tell me?” Marek whispers.
“I’ve told you everything,” Maeve replies, closing her eyes and resting her head on his chest.
“Tell me of your birthright,” he says, every movement of his body raising the hairs on hers.
“My birthright?” She asks.
Marek buries his face in her tangled hair. “Who are you?”
Through the open door, Marek sees a quick movement from the edge of his vision. Loki is there, hopping around the yard, shedding black feathers and pecking at stones in the yard. With one beady eye, he catches his brother’s stare. Loki hops toward the little house twice, stretches out and flaps his wings, then cocks his head to the other side. The sun glints off his beak. “Share!” Loki caws loudly. “Share!”
Marek scowls and shakes his head.
Loki takes three hops close to the door. “Share! Share! Share!”
Maeve glances out the open door. “Marek, there’s a crow in the yard.”
“It’s a raven,” he says, his voice flat.
“I can never tell the difference.”
“His name is Loki.”
“Is it some sort of pet?” Maeve asks, watching as the bird hops closer to their little house twice more.
“He is my brother,” Marek answers, glowering at the creature. Maeve stares silently, twining her fingers through her husband’s. “He is a liar, and a trickster. In fact,” Marek sighs, “he rejoices in madness.”
Maeve continues to stare at the bird. She watches as it makes a strange little bow with its wings outstretched. “Marek, that’s just a bird.”
The raven hopps closer again. Marek glares at it. “I wish it were.”