Arrow (Knife) by R. J. Anderson

her. But by the time she glanced around, it was gone. She turned back to the woman and finished, ‘That’s where I have to go.’
    Fortunately, those details were enough to put the shopkeeper at ease. She named a price that she could afford to pay, though she warned that it was far less than the necklace was worth, and assured Rhosmari that if she returned to the shop within six weeks she would give her the chance to buy it back again. Relieved, Rhosmari accepted the money, expressed her gratitude as best she could without actually saying thank you – for faeries did not say those sacred words unless it was a matter of life and death – and left the shop with a lighter heart.
    She was crossing the square on her way towards the City Hall – the woman had told her she could catch a bus to Haverfordwest from there – when she heard it. Cark , came the rasping cry, and when Rhosmari looked up there were two ravens perched on the tall, circle-framed cross at the centre of the square.
    There was nothing unusual about that, at first glance. But as their unblinking gaze met Rhosmari’s, apprehension shivered through her. Those were not ordinary birds – they were faeries, male faeries, in raven shape.
    Yet they were not members of the Council Guard, or anyone else she recognised. That ought to have reassured her, but she could not help feeling uneasy just the same. On their way to the Green Isles, Timothy and Linden had been pursued by two raven brothers who served the Empress. What if these were the same Blackwings, come to capture Rhosmari and take her to their mistress?
    But no, she was being ridiculous. According to Linden, few of the mainland faeries had even heard of the Children of Rhys, and still fewer believed in their existence. There was no reason that Corbin and Byrne Blackwing should be interested in Rhosmari at all, let alone pursue her.
    Just then a smaller bird flashed across the square, tiny as a flung stone, and in a shirr of black feathers the ravens launched themselves after it. In seconds all three of them had vanished, and Rhosmari was alone.
    After that unsettling experience, Rhosmari did not linger in St David’s even long enough to eat, let alone buy gloves for her cold-cramped hands. When the next bus left for Haverfordwest, she was on it.
    Crowded by humans on both sides, nose wrinkling at the meaty pungency of their smell, she sat stiffly in the back of the bus as it skirted the coast and squeezed its way through the little towns of Solva and Newgale. But she soon forgot her discomfort, as every passing mile and every curve of the highway brought new and entrancing sights before her eyes. It amazed her that the human world could be so unpleasant in some ways, yet so beautiful in others.
    At last the bus reached Haverfordwest railway station, and the door wheezed open to let them out. Most of the passengers headed straight inside, but Rhosmari hesitated. Her studies had taught her about the existence of trains and even a little of how they worked, but no faery she knew had ever ridden one.
    Still, it was the fastest way to get where she was going. Rhosmari followed the last few humans into the station, watching and listening as they paid for their journeys. Then she stepped up and did likewise, and soon emerged onto the platform with ticket in hand. But apprehension had stolen away her hunger, and when a rich smell of meat and pastry wafted out of the nearby cafe she found herself edging away from it, nauseated.
    As the crowd on the platform swelled from a few to many, the atmosphere became charged with expectation. But instead of gazing down the track like the rest of them, the human beside Rhosmari kept looking at the sky. Was it about to rain? Automatically she followed his gaze – and her heart jolted. Two ravens were flapping towards the platform, their wingbeats purposeful and sure.
    And they were angling straight for her.
    She must not panic. She must stay just where she was, and behave as