Page 40

Forty

Ayna

They are everywhere, tall, powerful soldiers with grey leather armor, swinging nondescript swords at us as we rush into an efficient formation at the center of the clearing. Kaira has my left side while Myron covers my right, my back to Clio’s with Andraya and Pouly safely stored between the four of us.

“I can’t believe she betrayed us,” the Fairy Princess hisses through her teeth, scanning the clearing for Tata, who disappeared the second the soldiers arrived, while I try to ignore the urgency the scent of Myron’s blood instills in me. Of course, he’s already healing the cut on his lip, but it doesn’t change that the bond is screaming at me to protect him and punish the traitor who punched him in the face.

Not that I’m not busy otherwise with those soldiers flooding the clearing.

“That’s a discussion for later,” Myron stops Clio before she can go down the road of blaming herself. “Let’s get out of here alive first.”

He has a point and a good one at that. The thirty-plus men surrounding us are clearly here to collect us—for torture or worse. Their faces are all half hidden by the headpieces of the magic-repellant armor Erina’s armies are now equipped with, but that doesn’t mean the Tavrasian King is the one who sent those sentries.

If only Herinor and Silas were here, we’d have two more capable warriors to stand against this small army, but odds are these are the ones who shot them out of the sky and our Crow friends have been captured.

“Can you site-hop back to the palace and get reinforcements?” I suggest more than ask Clio, praying to whichever god will listen that she says yes.

Her voice is low enough I need to strain my ears to catch all her words as she responds, “It would take too long to get there and back in time before they skewer you all.”

“Thanks for illustrating our pending fate,” Myron growls, his power leaking from his hands once more like ink in water while his shield shimmers like silver in the frosty air.

Monitoring the approach of the enemy, Kaira shifts into a defensive stance. “If they’re human, we can defeat them easily, even if they spray us with that damn magic-binding drug.” A few more moments and they’ll be upon us. Running isn’t an option. It never was. Clio can’t site-hop us all at once, and on foot, we’d be too slow. With Andraya and Pouly injured, we’d need to leave them behind, and that’s not an option.

“I doubt they’re all human,” Myron says, flipping his sword. With a casual step, his shoulder is half in front of me, shielding me from part of the attackers who have almost closed the gap.

Gripping my daggers more tightly and pulling my silver power to the surface, I shove out of Myron’s protection. “I’m a big Crow girl, Myron. I can handle myself,” I remind him with as much merit as I can muster in the face of the approaching danger.

Through our bond, a flicker of warmth caresses my soul, and he brushes his shoulder against mine. “I know, little crow.”

“Sword or magic?” Clio asks, coiling to spring while Andraya and Pouly ready the extra knives we handed them.

A spark of silver flies from Myron’s palm, swirling up the length of my dagger before rushing across the closing distance toward one of the soldiers where it’s sucked into the gray armor like a raindrop into a cotton towel, not leaving a single trace. “Steel it is.”

His words are carried away on a gust of icy wind, and like on a silent signal, the soldiers attack.

Two men are upon me before I can curse Shaelak’s name, their swords unrelenting even against my fae strength. Beside me, Myron is fighting another two, his sword a flash of silver and menace as he slits their throats with ease.

Pulling my shield more tightly to my front, I extend it behind my back to include Andraya and Pouly, who both seem ready to claw the soldiers’ eyes out but hover where we’ve placed them at the eye of the storm.

Each strike landing on my blades rattles my bones, but my Crow strength parries them with ease, my magic rising beneath the surface, ready to tear my opponents to shreds.

Too risky, I tell the power lapping against my skin from the inside. You’ll just get drained when you touch the magic-defying armor and won’t cause the least bit of damage.

But my daggers do cause damage. Throwing my full weight into the blow, I pierce one dagger into the throat of the soldier trying to land another blow. The steel pierces through the leather headpiece covering the sensitive sides of his neck, and a spray of crimson hits my shield as I watch the life leave the man’s eyes.

I shouldn’t be so thoroughly pleased by a life gone out, but a primal part of me knows it’s either them or me, and I’d rather it be them.

Steel clashes with steel behind me, Clio’s voice carrying on the freezing air as she mocks her opponents. I don’t need to turn around to know she’s cut down more than one of them, just as I don’t need to glance at Kaira or Myron to know they are relentlessly fighting the onslaught of soldiers. At least, they haven’t started with arrows yet. If they used the same magic-nullifying missiles they’ve shot at us before, our shields would be worthless.

Another sword swings my way, making me hop out of its path before I can strike back. Despite the cold, sweat is building on my forehead, my heart beating frantically as I wonder how long we’ll be able to keep this up.

Yes, it’s easy to keep them at bay—for now. But while the first soldiers falling at our feet like cut wheat stalks were clearly human, the one I’m fighting now seems to be something more. His blows are harder, more precise, and the unearthly wrath in his narrowed brown eyes speaks of a grudge older than a human lifetime.

My intuition is confirmed when a streak of fire races along the blade aiming at my shoulder, and I twirl out of the way just in time to avoid the impact.

“Fire Fairy!” I shout to warn the others, using the condescending term for their kind on purpose and relishing the ire flaring in those eyes as the male growls a warning at me a heartbeat before he swings his sword once more.

Myron is busy hacking his way through the two men who replaced the ones he already cut down, and I’m not proud to admit that my attention is only half on my own attacker when I sense his frustration as each blow is deflected anew. My shield merges with his instinctively, feeling him in my protection. At least, the searing heat of the Fire Fairy’s magic can’t penetrate that layer of power that easily.

As if picking that thought from my mind, the Flame throws another wave of fire at me, so strong, this time, that I can taste ash on my tongue. The magic enveloping me melts just enough to make the temperature inside the shield climb to a toasty summer climate.

A part of me wonders why they haven’t sprayed us with the serum the way the Flames did when we ambushed them what feels like a lifetime ago. Before I can ponder any possible reasons, another strike of fire blasts against the silvery power surrounding us.

“Tighten your shields,” Myron orders, moving closer to my side, luring his opponent to follow before he runs him through with his blade. With one efficient stab, he cuts clean through the chest armor made of gray leather. Another soldier takes his place the second he drops to the ground, and this one is equipped with two sabers of white-hot fire.

“Shit,” Pouly’s curse is a whisper at my back, and we all realize that, even though we’ve neutralized a good third of our opponents, those first ones were merely to wear us down. The real threat is lingering at the back of the rows, and each man who falls gets replaced by one more powerful.

Ducking away from the soldier aiming at me, I shift in front of Myron, silver power drawing to the surface. As long as no one uses that Guardiansdamned drug on me, I can use my magic to meet the Flame’s burning blades. Drawing upon the well of power inside me, I pull up a wall of silver power, sending it to encircle the humans at the center of our group like a shield of translucent, liquid metal.

The soldiers around us slow their attack, halting as if giving us a moment to breathe before bestowing upon us an all-crushing assault.

“Get out of the way,” Myron hisses into my ear, stepping around my shoulder so he’s right next to me, an inch closer to the enemy than I can stand.

I shake my head in defiance, lifting my own daggers and coating them with my Crow-silver power to meet the fiery weapons of the Flame as he raises the fire sabers above his head, aiming to strike.

“Ayna—” Myron’s warning growl is lost in the thundering shout from the back of the rows.

“Hold!”

Ice slides down my back at the sound of that voice. A familiar, cultivated voice that has starred in my nightmares ever since I woke helpless and weak in the Fire Fairies’ residence in the borderlands. A voice who’s given orders to torture me. Who’s summoned the God of Darkness to make a deal with him.

“Ephegos—” I spit his name, holding onto the strength and anger Tata’s betrayal instilled in me.

Don’t show weakness, I tell myself. Don’t revert to the naive, human Ayna who trusted Ephegos. You’re strong. You’re immortal. You’re powerful.

It doesn’t matter what I tell myself. When the rows of soldiers stand down and form a corridor for the traitor Crow, my knees go weak, and my pulse flutters with panic.

“We need to attack before he can give the order to kill us all,” I speak into the mind link I hope Kaira is still keeping up within our little group.

Myron’s chin dips the tiniest bit, but I know he heard me.

“I could try to freeze their blades over so they break more easily,” Clio’s voice enters my head, and I almost do a double take as Andraya cautions her. “If their weapons are coated with the drug, you’ll only drain your magic.”

“It’s worth a try. None of you has lost your powers, even though you all suffered a cut here and there,” Pouly joins the conversation, and I realize only now the throbbing ache on my forearm where a blade sliced through my sleeve just above my wrist. It’s a small injury but deep enough to let the drug enter my bloodstream had the blade cutting me been coated in the damned serum.

I hear them all. Kaira, Clio, Andraya, Pouly, and Myron’s grumble of, “Just because there was no serum on that particular blade doesn’t mean there won’t be on others. You don’t honestly think Ephegos left one thing to coincidence. He’s planned this all out. Tata must have told him we’re coming—might have already been steering us toward this moment for weeks—and Ephegos set the trap.”

How Kaira managed to make the mind link omnidirectional I have no time to consider as Myron’s words sink in.

A trap. Not Tata’s trap but Ephegos’s. Tata, Ephegos’s minion.

“It’s been a while, Wolayna,” Ephegos drawls, oblivious to the conversation going on outside his reach, and like a ghost materializes in the haze engulfing the clearing. Clad in the same gray leather armor, he could have been just another soldier, but that gait—slow, deliberate, proud, sleek. I recognize him even before he pulls off the gray headpiece to reveal that too-warm and welcoming face. The mask of the diplomat he’s perfected and is wearing like an armor of its own. “You look rather”—he tilts his head, rye blond hair shifting over his shoulders—“different. Not in a bad way, don’t get me wrong.” With elegant strides, he marches closer, and my magic tingles to lash out.

“Careful, Ayna. He’s planned something. Save your strength.” Myron’s warning leashes the tossing power to a straining force simmering beneath my skin—except for that liquid metal shield around the two humans in our midst.

“We need to get Andraya and Pouly out of here,” I hiss into the mind link. “Clio, can you do it?”

“We won’t abandon you,” both the rebels object.

“Neither will I,” Clio agrees, sending a fuzzy sense of warmth through my chest that I’ve learned to recognize as our bond of friendship.

“And Myron,” Ephegos continues, halting a good ten feet away from us, framed by his men, all of whom are sporting fire sabers or fireballs in their hands, ready to launch their magic at us should we even consider attacking. “What a lucky male you are.”

My magic strains against my grasp as Myron tenses beside me, bracing for a blow of words rather than one of a blade or of magic. Guardians, how I want to hurl that power right at the traitor Crow. How I want to rip him to shreds. But the small army of Flames surrounding him is now directing their own magic right at us. One wrong move and we’ll be roasted.

“I could siphon their power if they shoot at us,” Kaira suggests, obviously fully aware of the scenes of doom circling in my mind.

“And burn yourself out? I don’t think so,” Clio jumps in before I can. “You’ve barely tested the limits of your ability.”

“He wants you to ask why?” Pouly nudges, and I only understand he’s talking to Myron when the latter shifts uncomfortably, arm brushing against mine in a gesture of comfort.

We’re both here. We’re alive. We can get out of this. He doesn’t need to share that thought through the mind link; the sentiment is flowing through the bond like crystal clear liquid.

“He can wait for me to play his games until he rots.” The darkness in Myron’s voice doesn’t scare me. Neither do the shadows creeping from his fingertips.

Shaelak’s power, that darkness running through his veins. Maybe, as Shaelak’s descendant, I might harbor the same shadows within me. Maybe, one day, I’ll bathe the world in inky black for what it’s done to me and mine.

“Well, Myron?” Ephegos slinks a step closer, his Flame guards tightening their ranks so they form a line behind him and shift closer to his sides. I wish there was a gap somewhere for us to bolt through, but they thoroughly encircled us, locking us in. And now, we’re facing a building wall of fire.

At the sight of flaring flame, my own shield wavers, forcing me to throw more of my strength into keeping the shimmering protection up.

Herinor and Silas are still somewhere out there—if Ephegos didn’t find them first. They’ll come for us. The likelihood that they’re already dead is just as high. Stomach clenching, I hold on to my daggers like they can give me the support needed to keep upright.

And Ephegos smirks… He knows we’re afraid. Knows we’re aware of how hopeless our situation is turning with every Flame revealing their power. “I’d been hoping you’d come to your senses, you know, realize that giving up is the only way to save our people. And to save Eherea.” He flicks an invisible fleck of dust from his shoulder, scarred fingers as elegant as I remember. “And then I’d thought you’d been smarter. After managing to break the curse, after escaping from the palace in Meer… After figuring out that the only temple of Shaelak is located in Aceleau and that the God of Darkness might be the only one to help your little bird mate, I thought, you’d be smart enough to realize I infiltrated the Fairy King’s circle of trust.”

“Tata,” Clio grinds out the name like she’s imagining chewing the female’s head off.

“The very one.” Ephegos’s grin spreads wide and warm, making me want to tear it away with my bird claws. The heavy darkness inside my chest spreads, a calling to let it grow into inky feathers and sharp talons, but I can’t shift. I can’t allow myself to give in to this instinct and risk getting stuck all over again. So I remain locked in place, shoulder to shoulder with Myron, Kaira on my other side, her back half turned to the traitor as she monitors the Flames behind us. Clio’s fingertips crack with ice. I know even without looking since a flurry of snowflakes dances along my shield. She’s leashing her anger well, but not well enough to hide it, and that’s all Ephegos is waiting for.

“You wonder why Jeseida didn’t kill her like the rest of the fairies, don’t you?” With painful slowness, Ephegos adjusts a buckle on his forearm. “You wonder how we got her to turn on you.”

He’s right. We all wonder, even if we can’t put the betrayal into words.

“Let me clear things up for you so we can move on with this … situation.” Casually, he reaches for the slender silver blade on his hip—a Flame sword. “Even the strongest of minds breaks under torture. And Tata was an easy case. She resigned herself to death so quickly she stirred our attention.”

Hadn’t the female mentioned she had never intended to survive the war when she joined Rogue’s army? The thought makes me want to scream.

“It would have been an easy kill,” Ephegos muses. “But she’s more valuable alive, you know? In your court”—and he’s directly addressing Clio now—“she had a place by your king’s graces. She had a role but a limited one. No prospect of a future. But we gave her something better.” A dramatic pause. “We gave her a family. ”

My stomach turns, and I need to swallow the bile in my throat as memories of Tata in our midst race through my mind. Tata, who we rescued from Jeseida’s estate. The sole survivor of the fairies captured by the enemy. Not because she was lucky but because she made a deal.

“She had a family in Recienne’s court,” Clio snarls, and I believe she’ll throw that ice magic right at Ephegos—I want her to—but the ice flickers into a layer of frosty air in front of us, another wall of protection should Ephegos order the Flames to strike.

“A family who saw her as nothing more than a soldier.” The grumble in Ephegos’s tone tells me he’s smart enough to see through whatever objections we come up with because, when I look back at the past months since meeting Tata, she was there for all meetings. She was there for even some of the meals. Recienne sat at her bed when she was recovering from her injuries in Flame captivity. She even trained with us. Strategized with us. But had I ever asked her where she came from and why she hadn’t cared to live? Had I truly given her a kind word over all those weeks of her help? And did it matter? She’d made her pact with Ephegos before we ever met.

“So what place is she getting in your family?” Myron prompts, ice lacing his tone, even when Tata wasn’t part of his court—of our court. I don’t know how many hits this male can take before he’ll never trust anyone again.

Ephegos’s grin fades. “The Flames took me in like a brother, and so I’ll take her in like a sister. Sister to the king of oh-so-many realms.”

It’s the first time he phrases it like that, and I don’t even need to reach into the mind link to know all of us understand the implications. Tavras. Askarea. Cezux. He doesn’t need to say it.

If we don’t manage to warn the Fairy King of the traitor in his court, we might not be the only ones to lose everything. Ephegos has set his eyes on all of Eherea. And perhaps all of Neredyn if he gets bored with his conquests on this continent.

“Go, Clio,” I all but beg. “Grab Andraya and Pouly, and go. Rogue needs to know about Tata.”

If Tata hasn’t already returned to Aceleau to slit Rogue’s and Sanja’s throats.

“Don’t even think about it,” Kaira warns through the mind link, the cold in her voice so different from her usual fire. “If the female lays a finger on the pregnant queen, I’ll personally gut her.”

It goes without saying that all of us are ready to skin Tata alive merely for what she’s done, but if she touches the Queen of Askarea and her unborn child, skinning won’t be enough.

“Please, Clio.” I’m not too proud to let my desperation leak through the mind link. We’re all drenched in the stench of it anyway.

“That will leave you three against twenty.”

Clio is right, but I don’t care. “The kingdom won’t fall if it loses two Crows and a part-Flame.” I ignore Myron’s rumble of protest as I basically offer the three of us for slaughter. “All of us will die if you don’t go. And then no one will be able to warn Rogue. His army is what can stop this madness, and if we’re all dead, he’ll be easy prey.”

“Go,” Kaira seconds, grief lacing her tone. “We’ll be fine.”

No one listens to Andraya’s and Pouly’s protests as Clio spins toward them, grabbing their wrists and spiriting them away, leaving Myron, Kaira, and me to our fate.

Whether Silas and Herinor are still alive and on their way to us is up to the gods. Clio is the only one who can buy Eherea a chance at freedom now.

“I hope she won’t be too late,” is all I can think at them before I pull up my brave face and smirk at Ephegos. “Does your master know you’re here?”