Lost Crow Conspiracy (Blood Rose Rebellion, Book 2) by Rosalyn Eves

Author:Rosalyn Eves
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2018-03-27T04:00:00+00:00

A trickle of sweat ran down my neck, itching between my shoulder blades. I fidgeted in my saddle, and Holdas snorted at me. Nearby, László shot me a look that might have killed a lesser man. I puffed out my cheeks, then released the breath slowly. A crow landed in the trees nearby and cocked its head at me. Not now, Varjú, I sent at it irritably. The crow had taken to following me the last morning or two, but I doubted László would approve of my new pet. The crow cawed loudly, making László flinch, before fluttering off.

We’d arrived in the copse of trees when wisps of early-morning fog still hugged the grasses. Now the only hugging being done was the infernal heat wrapping around us as the sun crested overhead. A scout had brought word just after dawn of a rich carriage lumbering our way, but it was taking an eon for it to reach us.

A new epitaph: Here lies Eszterházy Mátyás. He couldn’t wait.

At last, like heavenly choirs singing, we heard it: the distant thudding of hooves, the dull creak of wheels.

At a signal from László, we erupted from the trees, screaming and firing pistols into the air. The horses pulling the carriage shied back. The driver swore, then threw his hands up.

László waved one of his men toward the carriage. The man yanked the door open, argued with the inhabitants, and then rode back to us, a purse fisted in each hand and a triumphant smile on his face. We returned home on a wave of energy.

That night I joined a few of the others and László in a game of twenty-one. We played at the sturdy wooden table dominating the kitchen of the farmhouse where László currently camped. As the cards began to fly beneath a flickering lantern, my blood thrummed through me. It wasn’t the prospect of money, though the jangle of coins in my pockets whispered their own kind of lure. It was the game itself, the thrill of risking everything on a single card.

I downed a shot of vodka purchased by that day’s spoils and thought perhaps the life of a bandit suited me after all. There was, besides the camaraderie, the thrill of riding up on a carriage—the heady sense of risk, of unknown challenges, the need to think quickly on my feet.

It was very much like gambling.

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