Free Jane and the Raven King by Stephen Chambers Page A

bad guy—like in a storybook, yeah?—and the bad guys always lose at the end. That’s how the world works, isn’t it?”
    Manali said innit instead of isn’t it .
    A mechanical crab brought two covered plates of food. The first, for Manali, was a spicy red sauce of potatoes and chicken cubes over white rice with slices of warm flatbread on the side.
    “Wow,” Jane said. “What is that?”
    “Chicken vindaloo,” Manali said. “My favorite.”
    Well, Jane thought, I’ve never tried it, but it does smell good, andI guess I could eat it… The second plate was a row of three chicken tacos with white cheese, refried beans, Mexican rice, a basket of warm salted chips, salsa, and chili con queso.
    This time Manali said, “Cool—that looks good.”
    “I love chicken tacos,” Jane said, amazed.
    Each child received a different meal. Wooden crabs brought hamburgers and french fries, waffles, goat and rice skewers, soups, lobster, and plates of elaborate, colorful piles that Jane had never seen before that smelled like citrus or almonds or beef—all wonderful.
    When Jane reached for a chip, Manali offered her a piece of flatbread and said, “Naan?”
    “It’s called naan?”
    “That’s the bread, yes,” Manali said. “I’ll give you some naan if I can try your chips.”
    “Okay, but only if you’ll take a taco for some chicken vinder.”
    “ Vindaloo ,” Manali said and smiled. “It’s a deal. But you’ll definitely need lots of water.”
    Maybe—just maybe—Jane thought, this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

A fter Jane had finished eating, she said good night to Manali. “I’ll see you for breakfast, yeah?” Manali said. “And call for me if anyone gives you a hard time again.” Then Jane wandered out one of the many, many side doors at the back of the room to look for a bathroom. It opened to a corridor of white-veined black marble. Bobbin masks—Jane thought they looked like wax casts—were mounted on either side, flickering with yellow-orange candlelight. But there were no candles behind them. No doors either, and the corridor grew dark in the distance.
    Wrong way, Jane thought, but when she turned to go, some one cleared his throat. Thomas was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.
    “I’m sorry,” Jane stammered. “I shouldn’t…”
    “Be here?” Thomas said, and he stepped closer. “Who was it in your family? Who was so special?” When Jane went for the door, he said, “Are you afraid? It’s a simple question: Who in your—?”
    “My grandmother,” Jane said. “And other women before her. What about you?”
    “Me?” Thomas shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. “Do you think I was given anything? You have an easy life, I can tell. You want to help your family—good for you. My dad is dead now because of”—he gestured at the walls and ceiling—“all of this.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You’re just a kid,” Thomas said, and he came closer, his hands balled to fists. “How old are you—ten, eleven?”
    “I’m twelve.”
    “I’m sixteen, and my family—you know what? I don’t have to explain anything to you.” When she stared back, he smirked. “You want to know, huh? He saved Gaius. When I was a baby, my dad died to save Gaius’s life.”
    “I didn’t know the Raven King—”
    “Not from the Raven King; it was something else. If you tell anyone…”
    “I won’t.”
    “I don’t care if we’re from the same place, Jane. You and I are nothing alike.” He was breathing fast, his arms tense, ready to hit her. “Stay away from me.”
    “Okay.”
    Something bonged behind the door, and Jane opened it again. Gaius was banging a gold gong, like something from the Forbidden Palace or the Great Wall of China, Jane imagined. “Children?” Gaius waited, but the kids kept talking. “Everyone, please…”
    Thomas slipped in beside Jane. “Hey!” he shouted. “ Listen! ”
    The room went silent, and Gaius smiled. “Thank you,