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My heart continues beating, only because I trust Clio; much as she despises me, I trust her.

Kneeling down by Ayna’s shoulder, I place my hand on the side of her neck where trickles of blood have replaced the blisters. Fucking Flames.

If this was an ambush, Recienne better not have anything to do with it.

Itdoesstrike me as a bit suspicious that the Fairy Princess disappeared just when the attack happened.

The view of Ayna’s red and blistered skin surfacing from where her leathers are falling apart in places is almost too much to bear. She could have been dead.

Shewillbe if I’m not promptly healing her.

So, I send my healing power into her body, willing calm into my veins and a steady leash on my magic so I won’t accidentally hurt her.

The rock on my chest slowly lifts as the blood ceases trickling down her neck and the burn marks slowly fade from angry crimson to pale pink.

“I’m sorry, Ayna.” Bending over her face, I brush a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t wake, doesn’t groan and spit her blame at me. Whether it’s the injuries or the insane blast of power she set free to eviscerate Arebar, I don’t know. All I know is that my chest is aching, and my head is dizzy. The tattoo on my shoulder is cold as ice where it was scalding a minute ago. Like someone has frozen our connection.

“Wake up, my queen.” Stroking my fingers down the side of her face, I lift her into my lap, wrapping my arms around her to provide some warmth where Clio’s power has driven all of it from her form. Ayna’s steady heartbeat suggests she’s far from dead, but my fear is real as I wait for her to stir in my embrace while the last of the fight dies down behind us.

Worth fifty fairies… I’m no longer sure any of us Crows is worth even three fairies.

“What happened?” Royad is the first to find us as soon as the last Flame has been slayed. His sword still drips with blood, the same as Silas’s hatchet as he stands next to my cousin, rubbing his shoulder where a gash is already healing.

“Myron’s little mate almost blew us all up,” Herinor comments from a few paces away, wiping blood off his cheekwith the back of his hand while his gaze darts over to Kaira, who’s sitting on the ground beside him, leaning against the leftovers of a fallen tree trunk. Where before skeletons of a forest greeted us, nothing but dust and lumps of scorched wood is left within a hundred feet radius, and most of it isn’t the Flames’ fault.

Ayna’s power caused that, her untrained Crow magic going rogue to protect her.

My body is still shaking from the force of her attack, and I’m grateful none of us passed out, while the Flames seemed to be less resilient against the vast energy erupting in Ayna’s release of power.

“Myron’squeen,” I correct, tone laced with violence, “saved her life and probably all of ours.” I don’t want to think about what could have happened without her magic breaking free. It certainly put a few Flames on their asses after it tore through Arebar. “It’s not her fault she hasn’t been properly trained.”It’s mine, I silently add. “Besides, how did they find us so fast?”

Glancing over my shoulder, I search the wasteland for Clio, finding her wiping her sword on the leathers of a Flame corpse. “Where did you disappear to?”

Clio shrugs. “I could ask you the same thing.”

I’m not embarrassed for secretly kissing my wife behind the trees like a young male, but I was there to defend the others once Royad warned us. “I asked first.”

I’ve got to give it to Clio; she doesn’t as much as flinch when not only I but three other Crow males stare her down. “I went to take out the backup.”

Silas barks a laugh. “You’re kidding.” When she doesn’t respond, he turns to Royad and me. “She’s kidding, right?”

This time, anger simmers in Clio’s jade eyes. “While you were busy sucking your mate’s tongue, I went ahead to scout the area. It’s easier with my site-hopping and less dangerous than when any of you shift into your bird form and risk your feathers.”

That catches me by surprise so hard my chest constricts.

“Now, get over yourself, and stand up. We’ve got somewhere to be. Ayna will wake up soon enough.”

When she saidsomewhere to be, Clio did have a place in mind. Night has crept into the rubble of my former palace by the time we arrive there, Ayna safely in my arms and the others fully recovered from her assault of magic. We’ll sleep in the shelter of the broken walls and set out south in the morning to track down any remaining Crows before we hunt for Jeseida’s murderous Flames.

With what I’ve seen of what destruction has haunted my former kingdom, I’m reluctant to believe any of my people are left lest hope springs to life, paving yet another path to the pain of my own failure as a king.

“You can lay her down here.” Royad clears the area behind a fallen pillar in the remains of my old throne room at the center of the battlefield, making space for me to place Ayna’s sleeping form on the hard stone.

Nodding my thanks at him, I kneel with Ayna in my arms, gently sliding her onto the piece of blackened stone.

When I turn around to ask if any of the other’s packs survived the encounter with the Flames, Clio is holding out a blanket, lips pursed and brows knitted in the resemblance of a wordless apology. “I’ll take the first shift while you rest.”