Read Online Urchin and the Raven War by M. I. McAllister - Free Book Online Page A

for a brief rest on the first island they came to, though it was almost barren. Hardly anything lived here but snakes—writhing, treacherous things, and hardly worth eating; but the snakes themselves must be feeding on something. Sharp eyes detected small, scurrying animals, and sharper beaks finished them off. The Silver Prince strutted among the others, pushing them aside, giving orders— Bring me that one. Kill that for me.
    This would only be a rest. The Taloness jerked her head from one side to the other as she scanned the horizon. There were other islands far from here, where colonies of ravens thrived. They would gather strength, for ravens of all islands would gather to support the Silver Prince, keen to show themselves his friends. They would be willing to die for him, and some of them would have to before revenge was complete. The Archraven had thought himself the greatest leader they had ever known, but under the Taloness, the ravens would have a power her brother had never dreamed of. The Silver Prince was still too young and inexperienced to make his own decisions. She would guide and instruct him.
    When they had fed and slept, she led them on to the next island where ravens lived. She made sure that the prince always flew with the sun on his wings so that he would appear silver, not gray. Everywhere they went, their followers increased.
    If Crispin of Mistmantle had lived, he would regret it. She would make him wish he had died on the cairn at Swan Isle.

    Pitter was determined to make the most of every day on Mistmantle. Every time a swan prepared to fly back to Swan Isle she hid, in case anyone remembered that she was still there and tried to send her home. She had made friends with a squirrel called Scatter—a great friend of the otters—who came from Whitewings, the same island that the queen came from. Scatter knew what it was like to be new to Mistmantle, and was just introducing her to some very friendly otters, when a messenger came to say that the queen wished to see Miss Pitter “at once.”
    Pitter swallowed hard, and her legs felt wobbly. The king’s dead, the queen thinks the moss killed him, she blames me, it will be all my fault, I did something wrong, they’ll put me in a dungeon…. But the messenger was smiling.
    She stood outside the Throne Room door, her paw in her mouth. There hadn’t been time to brush her ears or smooth her fur. When the page opened the door, Pitter whipped her paw out of her mouth, pattered in, and saw the queen rush toward her. She managed a shaky curtsy and was saved from falling as the queen took her paws.
    “Pitter!” she cried. “Come and meet King Crispin!”
    The Throne Room, with its two carved wooden thrones, small tables, and open windows, was simple and beautiful. She gasped. King Crispin was there! He was seated on the throne, his face thinner than she remembered it, and the dark red seam still running from shoulder to hip. Pitter couldn’t resist a glance up at the top of his head, and was a little disappointed that he wasn’t wearing a crown. When he spoke to her, it wasn’t the ringing call of the warrior who had challenged Lord Arcneck, but there was authority and kindness in his voice, even though it was weak. His eyes seemed deep with suffering.
    “Dear Pitter,” he said, “for saving my life when I was careless enough to nearly be killed, more thanks than I can express! All the island loves you.”
    Pitter wondered what she ought to say. “Ooh!” really wouldn’t be suitable.
    “Are they looking after you well?” asked the king. “Are you happy on Mismantle?”
    “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Pitter, almost too shy to speak.
    “I believe Sepia, the Queen’s Companion, is looking after you?”
    “Yes, Your Majesty. She’s very kind.”
    “And she’s shown you the tower?”
    “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. “It’s very…um…nice.”
    The king smiled warmly, and there was laughter in his eyes. “And the shore, have you