Free The Crow God's Girl by Patrice Sarath Page A

couldn’t be sure. Wait until you see him in the light. Don’t say anything now.
    It was dangerous enough for him to be crow. She could imagine what Terrick armsmen would do to him if they knew he was a girl.
    “Ossen, the House of Terrick gives you guesting.”
    As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. She hadn’t the right; and the way the men at arms looked at her–the way the crow looked at her–everyone in the clearing knew it. It was as if someone had taken control of her voice.
    Ossen gave her a sidelong glance, and said, “I am honored.”
    Lady Beatra was going to kill her.
     
    Yare told his story while sitting on the kitchen table, wrapped in a towel with his feet in a basin of steaming water. He was irrepressible, Kate had to admit. He had almost bounced back, even if his face was tear-streaked and covered with dirt. It helped that he was surrounded by the entire household, along with the crow, who had been given a bowl of soup and bread.
    “I was going down to the fishing hole under the bridge,” he explained. “I didn’t see them, mama. They were hiding in the ditch.”
    For a moment his voice faltered. Must have been terrifying, Kate thought.
    “See, Yare, that’s what happens when you skip out on your chores,” she chirped. As she hoped, he laughed and so did a few other householders, but she noted who didn’t–Torvan for one, and a few of his ilk.
    Ossen the crow looked up at her at her words and looked away again. No one else seemed to suspect that he was not all he appeared to be. His shapeless clothes swallowed his frame, making it hard to get a sense of his shape. His features were delicate and androgynous–a pointed chin, slightly tilted eyes, a mop of untidy hair. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. Kate wanted to hand him a handkerchief so he could wipe it off. His clothes were stained and worn, but they had once been good, with a few touches like carved buttons and a bit of lace to distinguish them.
    It was driving her nuts–boy? Girl? How could she find out without giving him away? Maybe he sensed her focus because he caught her gaze, and then went back to his meal with dogged concentration. Even though he was a crow, Lady Beatra knew what was due. This–Ossen had saved her son’s life, along with her foster daughter.
    “I would have sent a few men down to chase them, but we thought it better to get the boy home,” Maksin said, his eyes not meeting Lady Beatra, even as he put his thumb in his belt and acted nonchalant. “Mischief makers, that’s all.”
    Ah. So if Kate hadn’t suggested it, he would have sent trackers. As it was, he would rather dismiss the danger completely. Not everyone agreed with Maksin either. There were some surprised expressions. Kate glanced at Lady Beatra, whose face showed strain.
    “Yes, of course, Maksin. But I think it’s best to follow their trail after all. Child-stealing is hardly mischief.”
    Maksin glowered. Jerk, Kate thought. You lost precious time just because I suggested it. She kept her mouth shut. As irksome as it was to know that Maksin didn’t want to take her suggestion, it was better that they get to the bottom of this.
    “Yes, my lady,” he muttered. Lady Beatra smiled, and turned to Kate.
    “And here we have forgotten your part in Yare’s rescue. Thank you, foster daughter, for your bravery.”
    Kate bobbed her head in thanks, but she could see that Lady Beatra’s words had not gone over well with her enemies. Torvan and a few of the householders made faces of disdain.
    Maksin looked sour. To cover up for his own lapse, the soldier barked, “You! Crow! How did you come upon those brigands?”
    Ossen put down his spoon and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “To be sure, good sir, I was coming down the footpath that winds toward the road. I was about half-way and could see the men get the drop on the young lord.” He grinned at Yare, his teeth clean and bright in his dirty face, transforming his