Page 33

Thirty-Three

Ayna

“Again!” Kaira shouts across the training ring, daggers raised as she twirls toward Clio in a light-footed attack.

The Fairy Princess parries with a flash of her sword, shoving the Flame back toward the edge of the arena.

Clio’s smirk tells volumes about what satisfaction it gives her to be the best fighter attending this training session—honestly, even if Tori or Rogue were here, she might outshine them with her quick, agile moves and her uncanny talent for spotting her opponents’ weaknesses.

Panting, Kaira pushes against Clio’s blade, ducking under the fairy’s arm and sprinting across the frozen ground so fast only my fae vision made it possible to discern the individual steps from my position on the logs at the side of the training space.

Clio’s laugh sweeps through the air like wind chimes. “Much better.”

I don’t know how many times they’ve repeated this specific move, but after tens of times of it ending with Kaira’s ass on the ground, she’s been deflecting the past few attacks, each time more elegant than the last. At least, this is more progress than the countless meetings, sit-ins with Rogue, Tori, Tata, and the Crows, discussing all angles of when or how Erina could attack, of Ephegos’s potential plans, or how to secure Aceleau against further infiltration if the Crow traitors can so easily unweave wards. At least, the wards on the palace are too strong and intricate for them to gnaw through in the night and surprise us with an attack. It’s a small relief, but we all sleep better, knowing our loved ones are safe—for now.

Wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her hand, Kaira saunters over to sit beside me. I reach for the water jar and hand it to her. “You’ve gotten faster.”

Chugging down the cool liquid, she nods. “Two weeks of daily training will do that to a halfling.” Her grin is halfhearted, but I know she no longer means the reference to her being only part-Flame in depreciation. She’s part of the family, whatever heritage she holds. And part of it is the same blood running through my veins.

“A pretty amazing halfling,” Clio amends, joining us with a brief site-hop to the top of the logs where she plops down, tossing her upper braid back and resting her sword across her knees as she blows air into her cupped hands. “Guardians, has it become cold.”

“Guardians?” Kaira quips. “You sure you want to include the traitor of a deity who will pair Ayna with Ephegos if he manages to kill her mate?”

I’ve tried hard not to think too much about the deal Ephegos struck with the brother Guardian—Shaelak. Moping won’t change anything when there’s a war to prepare for. Whatever Ephegos has planned, the best I can do is train and forge alliances. None of them as important as the one with the Fairy King of Askarea.

Clio shakes her head. “Perhaps we should start calling the Guardians by their names.”

“A suggestion I can get behind.” With a thud, Kaira sets down the jar on the ground, right next to her feet. “Vala and her brother Shaelak. Children of Eroth.”

“As if it makes a difference what we call them,” I murmur, wondering where Shaelak has disappeared to. We haven’t seen or heard a sign of him since the disastrous Samuin when the traitor Crow snuck into the fairy capital and slaughtered the better part of a whole district. I’m still not over the sight of all those bodies.

“Only if they answer to them,” Clio muses.

“Which they don’t.” I’ve tried. By Eroth—and he’s the only god I still trust—have I tried. I’ve knelt for hours in the crumbled remains of the temple I wrecked when I shifted into my fae form, breaking through the bird form trapping me, and not one single whisper of the god’s presence.

“Perhaps they returned to Neredyn,” Kaira suggests.

Sliding a log lower so she perches beside me on the thick, age-worn wood, Clio shakes her head. “If he has a deal with Ephegos, I assume he’s sticking around to fulfill his end if it comes to it.

My throat burns at the mere thought it might—that Ephegos might succeed in killing Myron. “It won’t.” There is no room for discussion.

Both Clio and Kaira know with one glance at me that I won’t accept another option, not even hypothetically.

“Why do you think he even made that deal?” I ask before they can push it. “Why gift me immortality, the ability to shift into a crow, the magic? Why make me a perfect match for Myron if he’s only waiting to watch my demise?”

I asked Myron the same question over and over again. Tori, Royad, Silas, all of them. Even Herinor. But no one has a satisfying answer. It’s all wild guesses.

“A crow form you haven’t even attempted to shift into,” Kaira reminds me with a grimace. “Not that I would recommend you try. It’s bad enough what happened last time.”

The thought alone of being stuck in my bird form once more is enough to make me shudder, even as the thread of power connecting me to my ability to shift stirs with delight. “I’m not ready.” I won’t be ready for a long, long time.

Ignoring Kaira, Clio replies to my question. “He’s the Guardian of Chaos. What did you expect?”

Her candidness is always refreshing, even when the impact of her words makes me want to scream.

“You mean he did it to spite his sister, the Guardian of Order?” I ask incredulously even when she’s got a point.

“Think about it.” Sheathing her sword and rubbing her hands together, Clio gets to her feet. “He left you stuck in your bird form instead of aiding a creature he chose as worthy of one of his creations. He gave you riddles rather than truths. He let you suffer. In short, he left you in chaos instead of putting everything in order .”

Kaira nods, getting to her feet as well and weighing her daggers in her hands as if all the answers could be found in the elegant steel. “He probably knew you’d figure it out—the immortality. But he left you reeling. And instead of granting you happiness, he made a fucking deal with that traitor.” There’s too much anger in her expression, her shoulders too tight, her grip on the daggers too hard to be merely upset on my behalf.

“What’s going on, Kaira?” I ask in my mind, cautious not to breach a subject that she doesn’t want to talk about in front of Clio. To her credit, she turns toward me, rolling her eyes.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care if Clio knows,” she huffs, a sad chuckle following.

“Knows what?” Clio stands at Kaira’s side, jade eyes peering down at the Flame.

“That I’m still debating killing Herinor for his betrayal, and yet I can’t get over the fact that it’s all Ephegos’s fault. Herinor was trapped by the traitor the same way you were trapped in your bird form.” Her gaze meets mine, and the anguish there, the upset stirring beneath the surface, the anger—not at him but on his behalf?—

My heart gives a painful thud as I read all the words she hasn’t spoken in the past weeks since she dug deep into Herinor’s mind.

“He’s a victim in this as much as we all were. I know he is, and yet—” Her shoulders curve under the invisible weight she’s carrying. “And yet I can’t bring myself to fully trust him.”

“Oh, Kaira.” As if of one mind, Clio and I reach for my sister, slinging our arms around her until she’s wrapped in a bubble of safety between us. “Neither of us will judge you for loving him.”

Kaira’s chest heaves. “I don’t?—”

“Even if it’s easy for you to lie, little Flame, you shouldn’t try,” Clio murmurs, her hand running over Kaira’s head and shoulder in comfort. “I’ve pretended not to care for too many centuries, and every time we walk into danger, I can barely stand the sight of myself for denying both Tori and me the happiness we could have had so much sooner.”

The wisdom in her words shouldn’t surprise me, but her usual swagger and snark make it easy to forget the hardship this female has gone through—and the lessons she must have learned from it. Wiser than both of us. More experienced in fighting and in strategizing. A princess in her own right and a friend I don’t think I could live without.

Kaira must feel the same because she squeezes Clio in a tight hug before swatting her shoulder. “That’s because you’re a stubborn pain in the ass. And I love you.”

Clio makes a sound of dismissal before extending her arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tighter. “I love you, too. Both of you.”

For long, shaky breaths, we stand huddled in the freezing air, not ready to let go, for the moment we do, reality will come creeping back at us, and I don’t think any of us are ready. Only when Tori site-hops into the arena, announcing that Tata is back from her visit at the Tavrasian rebels’ farm at the Askarean border, do we pull apart.

“What news does she bring?” I lay my hand into Clio’s open one, waiting for Kaira to do the same on the other side as we ready to site-hop back into the palace.

A grim line forms on Tori’s face as he glances between the three of us, stopping when his auburn eyes meet mine. “No good news, that’s for sure.” Jerking his chin in a gesture to follow him, he disappears into thin air, and Clio pulls us through time and space, right into Rogue’s throne room where the others are already waiting.

With a smile on his lips, Myron holds out an arm, waiting for me to join him by the long table Rogue, Royad, and Silas are poring over, their hands braced on the edges of a map as big as the wooden surface. Rushing toward him, I fold my arms around his waist, meeting him in the sort of toe-curling kiss he always gives me these days before we part or when we are reunited. A reminder that we’re both immortal and that this thing between us will last for all eternity. He won’t accept any other option either.

“Ah, good, you’re here,” Tata says by way of greeting, looking up from the stack of letters in her hands and pushing away from the side of the table where I can read the name Dunai, the capital of the Southern Continent, on the map. “Andraya asked me to give you these.”

Crossing the length of the room in a few quick strides, she comes to stand before Myron and me like she’s reporting to her commanders. Her armor is dusty, and a few splashes of liquid soak the leather vambrace on her forearm. Instinctively, I inhale a deep breath, trying to scent what it is and find my stomach balled into a knot when the rusty smell of blood hits me.

“Yours or someone else’s?” Not taking my eyes off the bloody pieces, I pick the letters from her outstretched hands.

Silas’s head swivels toward us, nostrils flaring as if he’s noticing the blood only now, and his black eyes snap to where Tata is holding up her forearm between us.

“An unlucky Tavrasian soldier happened to be snooping around the farm when I arrived and cleared the perimeter to make sure we wouldn’t be overheard.” She shrugs as if being covered in someone else’s blood is her normal state. I can’t help noticing the glimmer of relief in the sag of Silas’s tense shoulders.

“Unlucky indeed,” Tori purrs under his breath from where he’s joined the males by the map, earning a sideways glance from Silas, who looks, for all that it’s worth, like he believes dying at the end of Tata’s sword might be a pleasant way to go.

Of course, Myron is already one step ahead in his thoughts. “Does that mean the rebels’ secrecy has been compromised? Have they been discovered?”

Inclining her head at me an inch, Tata steps back. “Pouly said it’s not the first of Erina’s men sneaking around the area. It’s unclear whether any of them made it back unnoticed before the rebels could take care of them.”

“You mean Erina is actively sending out soldiers to find the rebels? Does he know they exist?” The fear is real as multiple scenarios of Andraya and Pouly paying for aiding me in my escape pop up in my mind. If he knows…

“It’s hard to tell.” Tata’s tone remains that of a soldier giving a report, no emotion attached to her words, even when I can read from her eyes that she dreads what being discovered by Erina—or worse, Ephegos—would mean. “He is searching the lands for something . Whether that’s Myron, you, or a band of traitors, I honestly don’t know.”

“He knows we’re in Askarea, though,” Silas enters the conversation, propping a hip against the edge of the table.

Clio has joined Tori’s side, tracing a line with her finger across the map until it lands on the small X marking the hidden farm’s location, and the rest of us follow until we surround the table.

“Does he, though?” Rogue looks up, tired darkness swirling in his eyes, which stop at the letters in my hand. “Perhaps Ephegos keeps secrets from his ally.”

“Meaning Erina doesn’t know where we are? He did send those messengers with the demand for you to give up Askarea.” Royad prompts Rogue, turning away from the map to glance over at Herinor sitting in a chair a few feet away by the wall, staring at Kaira like a helpless fool—Kaira, who hasn’t spoken a word. “What do you think?”

Light green eyes narrowing, Herinor weighs the idea. “It’s possible. The message was for the King of Askarea after all. Not for Myron or Ayna. And none of the messengers ever made it back to Meer to spill the secret. Ephegos never shares his full plans until shortly before their execution. Even when he was about to set the Crow Palace on fire.”

Nobody gasps in shock at his words. Over the past two weeks since Kaira revealed all those dark corners of his mind to us, only to show us how much regret has been plaguing the male, we’ve come to accept his good intentions. I still stand by my words of forgiveness, even when Myron holds him under scrutiny, only if for the sole reason that, should it come to it, Herinor will never directly help me—which makes him an unreliable ally. At least in that regard.

Royad and Herinor had it out in the arena the same day we released him from the cell, and Silas has yet to make a statement about where he stands with the male.

The fairies are all happy to accept him as part of the team as long as he promises not to work against us, which he did, nose bleeding and lip split from his fight with Royad. I could swear we all have been sleeping better since.

It doesn’t change the fact that Herinor’s usefulness in this war is limited when his loyalty in parts is still bound to Ephegos. It also doesn’t change that he knows the traitor and his operations best.

“So you think he’s keeping our whereabouts from Erina?” I cut him a glance over the intricate map, not failing to notice Kaira’s gone still as a statue.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to be playing Erina,” Herinor confirms, bringing back Erina’s words when I confronted him with Ephegos’s traitorous nature.

Don’t think I don’t have an ace or two up my sleeve.

“Erina expects Ephegos to betray him.” I quickly tell them of the conversation I once shared with the King of Tavras.

Herinor runs his fingers across his stubbled jaw, drawing a secret gaze from Kaira. “As you told Erina, Ephegos will betray him the moment he no longer has use for him. That doesn’t keep Ephegos from needing Erina for now. He needs the numbers and the magic-nullifying serum to equip an army against magical opponents. He needs the authority Erina’s trust installs in the Tavrasian troops—a Crow leading a human army.” He shakes his head, ignoring our stares as he muses. “Who would have guessed that was ever possible? Just as likely as a human breaking Vala’s curse on us.” His gaze bounces to mine, unexpected warmth shimmering in the green depths of his irises.

“Not so human anymore,” I remind him, noting the corner of his mouth lifting in response.

Myron’s hand tightens at the edge of my waist, and I nearly chuckle at the proprietary behavior, even when my core heats at the swipe of his thumb along the bottom of my ribs.

So fast I can’t even blink, Herinor’s gaze drops from mine, and he clears his throat. “The question remains, what does Erina hold against Ephegos? Does he have a secret weapon we don’t know of? Or is he simply an overconfident monarch underestimating the power of a Crow male on a mission?” I don’t know why Kaira’s cheeks stain pink as they lock gazes, and the momentary pain in Herinor’s eyes makes me want to smooth whatever broke between them.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kaira warns in her mind, easily hooking into mine, despite my spending days working on my shield after shifting into this new body. Tori’s theory is that our sibling connection is like a direct channel between us, even when she excels at shielding and snooping around in my thoughts far beyond what I could ever achieve.

“About what?” I innocently ask, turning back to the map before assessing the region the others were studying. “What does the yellow circle mean?” I point at the sun-yellow line enclosing the location of the farm.

“That’s the perimeter where the rebels have spotted spies combing through the lands for whatever they’re searching for,” Tori informs us, brows pinched as if he’s seeing the entire terrain before him, every dark corner and hiding place for Erina’s men. “If Pouly has been telling Tata the truth, more and more soldiers have been sneaking around the area.”

“More of the rebels have gathered there to keep an eye on the development,” Tata adds. “I’m convinced Erina is up to something.”

“He always is.” Because it’s the truth. There wasn’t a single moment during my time at his palace where he hadn’t played a double game. Proud and likable king to the masses—cruel, miserable bastard behind the scenes.

As if in confirmation, Myron hums, lacing his fingers with mine. Warmth trickles through the bond right into my palm, a reminder of the unbreakable connection weaving us together.

At the head of the table, Rogue is idly tapping his fingers on the map. “My own armies are ready. We haven’t spotted a single Tavrasian soldier since the infiltration in the north.”

Tori dips his chin in approval. “I have my more powerful warriors renewing the wards on the city every day to prevent new breaches, and I’ve informed the people to remain on alert and inform us if they spot anything suspicious, but so far, there has been no trackable activity.” His gaze wanders to Myron. “If the Crows would be trying to unweave them, could we trace their attempts?” The wariness in his gaze tells me everything I need to know about how much he cares for the safety of the remaining residents of Aceleau. He’s blaming himself for the first attack to begin with.

Straightening away from the table, Myron holds the general’s gaze. “Unmaking wards is a talent of ours, but even Crows leave marks of their power when working through a ward.”

Tori’s shoulders sag with relief, but he isn’t the only one. Rogue and Clio’s chests heave in unison, and Tata closes her eyes as she braces her hands on the edge of the table, squeezing into the narrow space between Royad and Silas.

“They won’t return to Aceleau,” Herinor says from his seat on the side. All heads turn toward him, and he shrugs as if his assessment is obvious. “They got what they wanted. They showed us how vulnerable our defenses truly are, and Ephegos found Shaelak.”

The air thickens around me, breathing becoming an effort, as Myron’s dark power slithers from his fingers in answer to Herinor’s words, and when I turn my gaze to my mate’s, his lips are pursed in a tight line, black veins creeping around his eyes.

I’m not ready to discuss Ephegos’s deal with the Brother Guardian, so I wave the letters still clutched in my hand at the group gathered around the map, attempting my best neutral expression.

“Maybe I should read these first before we hop into a wild guessing game of what exactly is going on in the borderlands, what Ephegos plans to do to murder my mate, and whether he’s leaving his ally in the dark.”

I don’t wait for any of them to agree before I set the stack down on the table, keeping only the top letter in my hand and slicing the envelope open with a thin blade made of the silver Crow power I’ve been working to cultivate these past weeks since my shift.