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Jeseida readies to strike.

I beat my wings harder.

Recienne spots the dagger just in time to block it, but he tries with his magic instead of his blade.

Jeseida grins as she pulls the dagger back, aiming.

One more beat.

The dagger sinks into Recienne’s shoulder as my claws reach Jeseida first, digging deep into her eyes.

A scream tears from her throat, hands sliding off the hilt of her blade and flames dissipating into smoke and ash. Like a mad female, she bats at me with both hands, trying to grab me, but I’m small and agile. My feathers slip through her grasp as I wiggle and buck before I spread my wings and take flight.

The wail hatching from her mouth is almost pitiful, but I don’t know pity. This female had my mate on his knees, and there will be no tomorrow for her.

I don’t need to think as I dive for her throat: Easy like I’ve never done anything else in my life, I slip between her forearms where she’s pressing her palms into the empty sockets in her skull. And when my claws rip into her skin, opening her artery, I don’t balk at the feel of hot, thick blood soaking my feathers. I welcome it with the satisfaction of the monster I’ve become.

Only when a shout of warning hits me do I beat my wings and flutter high up into the air.

I don’t know where the arrow comes from, but it pierces my wing just when I’m high enough that I can no longer shift without risking breaking all my bones.

A tortured caw escapes my beak, and I can feel Myron stir through the bond.

The world is a blur of moonlight and blood as I plummet from the skies.

Herinor

“Ayna.”My hands are shaking so hard I can barely know where they’ll land if I reach out to touch her. “Fuck it, Ayna, don’t be dead.”

I shouldn’t be saying that. I shouldn’t even be kneeling here, in the puddle of mud and blood where the Crow Queen dropped from the sky, limp like a dead rodent.

The bargain I made with Ephegos clearly forbids helping Ayna, and this… Thisishelping Ayna. Sort of.

I could merely be making sure she’s dead. But I’m not.

I’m not here because I wish to see her dead.

“Are you all right?” Royad wipes blood off his mouth. How he’s managed to keep his bearingswhen the drug hit full force, I wish I knew.Iwithered like those tiny spring blossoms that used to grow in Winghaven before the curse.

How I hate this place. How I wish I could fly over my old homeland once more.

The decision is not mine, though. Despite my bargain with Ephegos, my loyalty lies with Myron. Where he goes, I go. Until Ephegos drags me back with chains and magic.

“All right might be a bit strong of a word.” I shrug, but Royad doesn’t buy it.

I was the closest when Ayna fell, and Shaelak fuck me, I wanted to catch her, but the bargain bound me in my spot. I would have needed to gnaw my legs off and drag myself over by my arms to help her. Even then, I wouldn’t have survived the aftermath of binding magic.

Royad eyes me with that expression of pity he so often uses when he notices I’m fighting my stupid oath.

“I’ll take care of her. You go get Tata. She and Silas are the only ones left with magic, and Silas is taking care of Myron and Recienne.”

I push up from my knees, glancing toward the wagon where Recienne is sitting on the edge between bodies of Flame guards and Myron lying on the wooden boards. Silas kneels next to Myron, hand hovering on his chest where the arrow is still standing proud like it’s paying rent and has the right.

“Our king is in bad shape.” It’s the understatement of the century.

Royad shrugs. “He was in worse shape when hedied. He’s tough. He’ll get through this.”

Royad’s blind faith in his cousin has always astonished me, but this is next-level disturbing. When I turn to tell him, he’s already leaning over Ayna’s bird body. “You’re wasting time. Get Tata, and then help Silas with the arrow. We need to get that thing out of him somehow.”