Page 24

Twenty-Four

Ayna

There’s no warning before Myron’s fist connects with Herinor’s face, splitting his lip wide open, and I almost tumble from his shoulder. Myron shakes out his bloodied fingers then observes the skin on his knuckles cut from the force of the impact. Slowly, deadly, he prowls around the male in a tight circle, debating what to do with him. Kill him on the spot or let him live so he’ll suffer an end delivered by the ancient magic of bargains. I don’t need to be able to see into Myron’s head to know that’s what’s on his mind because, when he eventually stops, surveying Herinor’s hung head, the hunched shoulders, the utter defeat, he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Take him to the dungeon.”

Herinor’s pleading eyes snap up to Myron’s first and, when he doesn’t find a hint of mercy there, to mine, but Royad and Silas are already on the move. He doesn’t put up a fight as they drag him from the temple, a trail of dripping blood tracing the path through the debris of the doors Myron splintered at our last visit.

“If I ever consider defending him again, slap me. Hard,” Kaira says into the thick silence left behind, and I remember Myron and I aren’t the only ones affected by Herinor’s selective silence. Kaira opened her heart for Herinor, and even if she hasn’t told him what’s blooming in those fiery chambers of her chest, I have heard her thoughts, have observed her gazes, have noted the longing in her eyes when she studied the male from the distance.

“Promise,” Myron says before I can stop him, and I can almost see the ancient magic of Crow promises weave through my mate.

“I promise I won’t,” I tell her because Herinor’s choices are not her fault, and even when he might have saved hundreds of fairies by telling us what he knew, I can’t blame him for dismissing Ephegos’s words and hints for delusions. Even knowing about my heritage wouldn’t have changed anything; he is right about that.

“He’s not,” Kaira responds to my thoughts, and when Myron turns his inquisitive eyes on her, she explains, “Herinor had no right to keep such information from us. He had no right to decide what is relevant and what isn’t. Especially when it comes to Ayna’s heritage.”

Myron’s slow nod unnerves me enough to flutter from his shoulder to the edge of the altar where I perch on a blood-free spot.

“He deserves worse than the dungeon,” he says like in an afterthought, his eyes trailing me to the stone Ephegos must have used to summon the God of Darkness.

Herinor betrayed us, perhaps not in the way Ephegos did, but he held back information—again. Unwittingly, perhaps, but at this point, none of us know any longer what we can rely on when it comes to what leaves this male’s mouth.

I should be more upset, should wish to knock Herinor’s teeth out myself, but I can’t find it in me, that rage. “It’s not the first time I learned I’m not who I thought I was,” I remind them, “and this time is far less distressing than when Erina told me about my father’s royal blood. This time, at least I was surrounded by family instead of enemies.”

Pursing her lips, Kaira joins me by the altar, bracing a careful hand against the carved rock as she scans the empty wall behind it. “And Herinor might still be wrong about all of it,” she puts into consideration.

Myron circles the altar, coming to a halt in front of the smooth spot where Shaelak’s carving should have been. “Much as I hate Herinor right now, he is right about one thing.” Both our heads jerk toward him. “Ephegos could have said any of it to prompt false theories and sow insecurities. Herinor was right to dismiss it as irrelevant—at least the part about the breaking of the curse.”

“If only we could ask Shaelak what is true and what isn’t ? —”

Thunder rolls through the temple, shaking it at its foundations so thoroughly I slide off the side of the altar, claws failing to find purchase on the smooth edge of the stone.

“You asked for the truth?” Shaelak’s deep voice rumbles through the dim space before he appears, double the height of even Myron, a form half human, half crow laced with inky smoke. Star-bright eyes gleam in his face, features barely distinguishable with the wafting blackness surrounding him. “Hello again, Ayna.”

From the corner of my eye, I can make out Myron and Kaira coming to my sides, both assuming defensive stances while I flutter back to the edge of the altar if only so I feel less dwarfed by the deity who could have shown up a few moments ago but decided to let us deal with Herinor on our own before deigning to join us with the truth. If he’s going to supply it—one can never know with those gods.

“What do you want?” I say by way of greeting, no longer ready to cower. If Herinor was right and I am Shaelak’s descendant, there is no need to fear him. And if he was wrong… Well, if he was wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time I get my ass handed to me by a god, and what worse than keeping me stuck in bird form can he do to me?

Beside me, Kaira is shaking even as she lowers the dagger in her hand that would be as useless as a toothpick against a deity. Myron’s magic sizzles at his fingertips, a dance of silver and black. He’s ready to defy his maker if it means I get to live—but something tells me Shaelak hasn’t come to smite me, so I caw a warning at Myron, who grits his teeth but holds his power in.

“Such bold, angry words, Ayna,” Shaelak reprimands. “I thought you’d be happy to finally know your destiny.”

“My destiny…” I repeat, realization slowly trickling in.

“Hate the messenger all you want; Herinor isn’t the one who set you on this path.” The ground trembles as Shaelak takes a casual step closer, coils of black smoke floating onto the altar, so close that I retreat a step, almost slipping off the stone again.

I can feel Myron hold his breath, hold back words he wants to hurl at the god, but I fill the silence before he can draw attention.

“I set you on this path long ago, my child.” His words clang through me like rocks into water. “I sired your ancestor, a lovely female who fell in love with a human man when she was old enough. She had a son, and that son had another son. For centuries, there were only male descendants, the line of my magic diluted by human blood bred in for generations, until there was no sign of those pointed ears or magic left.”

I can’t think, can’t breathe as he reaches for the side of his face, running a finger of smoke and starlight over his pointed ear. An ear like Myron’s. A fae ear.

“You were the first female born to my line in Eherea. My first chance to break my sister’s curse on my own creation. A child of both royal and godly blood through your father’s line. The first female Crow born since the curse.” He pauses, scanning me with those eyes of sparkling light, and something like approval flickers in the brightness. “A child of loss through your father’s treason, of hardship through your mother’s choices, a child estranged from her own culture through the years aboard a pirate ship I steered across the waters. A child who fell in love with a human man when I needed her to fall in love with a Crow King.”

Beside me, Myron goes so still I can sense the tension rolling off him as he listens for the crack running through my chest. “Ludelle ? —”

“Ludelle was a rope on your path to meet the Crow King. They all were, the pirates of the Wild Ray. Destined for slaughter when the time came to free you from all ties to the human lands.”

A raw sound hatches from my throat that could have been a sob—should have been. Lambs for slaughter, all of them. The phantom heat of tears burns behind my eyes, but this body doesn’t know how to cry. This body doesn’t know how to scream as Shaelak puts on a benevolent face as if he did all of this for me.

“It was I who guided the Jelnedyn King’s general on your trail so you’d end up in Fort Perenis where you’d be chosen as the hundredth bride.”

“Why?” I shouldn’t be interrupting a deity, but I’m beyond caring. My whole life—none of it has been my choice. None of it. It’s been all willed by a god with vengeance on his mind.

“Not vengeance, little Ayna,” Shaelak coos like he actually cares about me the way a father would a daughter. “To guide you into your destiny and to save my creation.” He pauses, smoke and feathers expanding as if in a deep breath. “My sister did her part by cursing the Crows, and I did mine in saving them. She, if anyone, should understand.”

“So that’s my destiny? To save the Crows?” I shout at him. My mind is so empty. So hollow. “Why don’t you just save them yourself, oh almighty God of Darkness? Why create a lowly human to do your dirty work?” The words are out, and both Kaira and Myron twitch as if ready to leap in front of me should Shaelak decide I crossed a line. But the god merely chuckles a deep, rumbling sound.

“To accept your bloodline. Only when you do that will you be able to save my creation from itself. And I couldn’t have saved them. It was the deal between my sister and me. I created the Crows, but I refused to destroy them when they fought and pilfered and raped their way across Neredyn. So she cursed them. I wasn’t allowed to interfere, but siring two bloodlines that might one day break the curse — I was allowed to do that before I moved on from the world of mortals the way all gods did. So I left behind a chance at freedom for my creation if they failed to break the curse themselves.”

My head is spinning, a pressure pushing on my chest, threatening to crush it.

“The Crows are an image of me, silver light and darkest night. Freedom of flight and the burden of its fall. Some chose the right path and some the wrong.” He lowers his head as if sharing a secret. “You will lead the lost ones back on the right track, Ayna.”

“Why don’t you do that if you’re so ready to make my sister a pawn in your games?” Kaira demands, and had I not already loved her, my heart would crack open wide for her at this very moment when her bravery and callousness give her courage to speak like that to a god she fears.

I wish I had my human form so I could throw a shield around her when Shaelak’s rage smites her. But the god merely laughs.

“I’ve been witnessing your strength and bravery, Kaira of the Flames.” A tendril of darkness reaches for her, and I leap, wings spread wide as the darkness slashes across the room.

It hits me right in the chest, piercing deep and digging deeper.

Myron curses, and Kaira screams, but all I see is darkness where I’m trapped between the god who holds my leash and his dark power, straining against the force of it.

“It is your task to protect the Queen of Crows, Kaira of the Flames, not the other way around. Fail again, and I’ll have your heart ripped from your chest.”

No. “Leave her alone,” I shout at the god. “She’s innocent in all of this. She was never meant to be part of your plan.”

“She’s your blood, so she shares your fate. Become immortal, Ayna. Accept who you are and what you need to do, and I’ll make her immortal, too. Her life is now bound to yours just as your mate’s. You die, they die. They fail to protect you, they die as a consequence of their own failure.”

I want to punch him, to throw my power at him, the very one his blood gifted me, but this bird form won’t allow for it.

“Accept your destiny, Ayna, before Ephegos returns to fulfill the bargain he made with me.”

“What bargain?” It’s the first time Myron addresses the god, voice low, calm, deadly. I can sense him nearby, outside the ball of darkness I’m trapped in. The pressure on my chest keeps building, but I don’t whimper, don’t complain for fear Kaira or Myron will act rashly and earn the wrath of the deity who could choose to end us all.

Shaelak’s chuckle runs through me like a gushing river of darkness. “He asked me to kill you if he promised to protect Ayna’s life. I offered him a different bargain in exchange.”

I dread what that bargain is, why he’d offer it to begin with, but his voice sounds in my head. “I told him that I won’t kill for him, but if he managed to kill you, Myron of Winghaven, I’ll give him something better.”

I hold my breath as I wait for him to continue, star-bright eyes cutting from Myron to me.

“I’ll make Ayna his mate.” Which would make him King of Crows; he doesn’t need to add that.

“No!” Myron’s roar of defiance shakes the temple walls, and I have the vague sense of him leaping at the god.

I need to do something, need to break free from the cocoon of darkness Shaelak has trapped me in—for my own protection or for his entertainment, I can’t tell. Silver power flashes, cracking through the walls locking me in, and that pressure… That pressure on my chest makes my heart slow even as it wants to race for its life—for Myron’s life.

From behind me, Kaira shouts a warning at Myron. A crack tears the air, darkness splintering around me, and I catch sight of Myron sprawled on the floor, blood leaking from his temple where it hit the edge of the altar.

I need to get to him, but remaining tendrils of darkness hold me in place. I’m too weak in this form, too fucking helpless, not even my deadly claws making a difference as I slash at the bindings Shaelak bestowed upon me.

Inky black pours from the god as he bends over Myron’s form, probing with spindly fingers for where he’s easiest to break. Lightning cracks through the deity as he readies to unleash it on my mate.

No!

“No!” My voice breaks free from my throat like a shackled beast, tearing through the temple in a hoarse scream. The pressure on my chest lightens, and the bindings loosen around my body, no longer fitting my growing limbs, my long legs, my arms. I don’t hold a weapon in my hand, and my naked skin has none stored, so I’ll have to be the weapon. With the ire of the blood Shaelak has spilled from my mate, I reach deep down into the depths of myself, pulling up what power I can—and find a pool so vast I can’t see the bottom of it.

Without a second thought, I hurl it all at him, watching the explosion of silver light as it tears down the walls of the temple, ceiling crumbling into dust over our heads as I pulverize it with half a thought.

Only when the light fades and the dust settles, leaving a view of the fairy city beyond, and I’m sure Shaelak is well and truly gone, do I dare take a breath.