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Forty-One

Myron

“Does your master know you’re here?”

The hairs stand up at the back of my neck as Ayna grins at our enemy like at a puppy who lost his owner.

She’s trying to distract him from Clio’s disappearance. Gods, I wish I could unleash my power upon Ephegos and end him. It would buy us at least a semblance of a chance at survival. At least, we could pretend there is one, because, even if no one has addressed it, we all know it: We’re fucked. There is no way out of this alive. Not even with Clio and the two humans would there have been. Chance at survival with twenty Flames aiming their power at us and none of our own magic able to penetrate their armor. Blades won’t even get close to their throats before we’re all dead.

“I don’t have a master, Ayna.” Ephegos’s voice turns cold, all traces of the diplomat washed away with one simple question.

“You sure? Because last time I checked, you weren’t king or emperor. You were working in a human king’s army. A soldier. Nothing more, nothing less.” She takes a casual step closer, bringing her shoulder between me and the menace before us, and my chest constricts at that instinctual act of protection. She no longer needs me to protect her because she’s just as strong and capable as any of us is. Stronger perhaps with Shaelak’s blood running through her veins. She’s always been capable, though. In different ways when she was still human, but never one to be cast aside, never one to be overlooked. Always spirited, skilled, and so well-versed with more than just her hands.

A streak of heat runs through my blood at the thought of how those dangerous fingers and curses-spitting mouth know how to pleasure me, and for a breath, I can put that fear at ease because there is no way in this universe that we’ll both die here today and I’ll never feel the fire of her passion again. I won’t allow it.

As if the message made it to Ayna through the bond, the palm-sized mark over my heart burns beneath my leathers, and Ayna’s marked hand fists her dagger tighter.

“Careful, Ayna,” Ephegos warns, and the absence of his grin is enough to chill the heat from my blood in an instant. “You don’t want to get on your future lover’s bad side.”

And the cold turns to flaring fury. I swallow it with my dry throat, biting down on the remarks I could spit at him, not willing to give him the satisfaction of reacting to this provocation.

Ayna is already covering it for both of us with her barely contained anger and the sneer mingling with her smirk, turning her face into a gloriously vicious thing. “Lover,” she spits. “The day I become your lover is the day you’ll need to watch out for sharp items in your bed. And I don’t mean the sort that cut to the heart. I’m happy to simply cut off your balls.”

“Problem solved,” Kaira retorts into our minds, reminding me of her presence. “I doubt Clio will come back with reinforcements in time, don’t you?”

How she can think so rationally with the atrocity Ephegos just suggested, but I appreciate the voice of reason literally in our heads.

She doesn’t give us time to ponder a response. “If Tata made it to the palace, Clio will be busy doing damage control there, and Rogue and Tori will be busy figuring out if Tata managed to convert any other soldiers to her cause. I wouldn’t put it past her to have built her own little legion to fight the fairy court from the inside.”

“I’m a little busy not attacking Ephegos and dooming us all.” Ayna’s strained tone tells me she’s barely capable of fighting that instinct to protect-protect-protect. I’m not much better off despite the long centuries of practicing restraint I have on her.

“Twenty Flames. All of them seem to have strong magic, ” she assesses, her back brushing against mine as she closes the gap that Clio’s and the rebels’ absence created. “If we can provoke them into attacking, I might be able to siphon some of their power and redirect it at them.”

All of us know where that would lead with the magic-repellent armor.

“I’d rather you save your strength for running while Myron and I fight a path out of here.” What Ayna doesn’t need to say is that would mean sacrificing ourselves to buy Kaira a window of opportunity. If she manages to sneak through, at least, one of us would survive.

I’m so busy following the others’ thoughts I almost miss Ephegos’s growl of warning.

“Careful, Ayna. I don’t need a feather bed to make you mine. Chains will do just fine.”

My magic flares, black tendrils emerging from my fingers and palms, and my vision turns a shade darker as I feel the veins around my eyes spider into inky lines beneath my skin. The monster is awakening inside of me, a primal power so much stronger than my Crow magic alone. Part of me wonders if this is the same force of nature that pushed me to destroy half an army of Flames that day at Jeseida’s estate when Erina had them burn the mate mark from Ayna’s shoulder.

Ayna’s hand shoots out to grab mine, fingers half-slipping from the hilt of her dagger. “Don’t.” She doesn’t speak through the mind-link, uncaring of whether Ephegos hears. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.”

But I am. The thought of Ephegos anywhere near her. Touching her. The threat of chaining her up to get close—a growl slips from my lips, turning into a near hiss as my Crow nature pushes to the surface. I can sense the tingling of a pending shift, but I grasp Ayna’s hand, grounding myself in the moment instead of giving in to what used to be my life for too many centuries. Into the form of the monster thirsting for blood and death and pain.

Instead, I lean in, uttering by her ear, “He won’t get a chance before I personally cut out his heart.”

“So illustrative, Myron. I must say, I’m surprised you haven’t lost your shit and attacked.” Ephegos doesn’t look the least surprised with his returned grin and his casual stance, like we’re not standing between blood-leaking corpses in the middle of winter. “Tell me, what is it like to have such a powerful mate?” His hungry gaze flicks from me to Ayna, roaming up and down her body, and I nearly wince as Ayna’s fingers squeeze mine hard, the hilt of her dagger wedged between.

“Such an ass,” Kaira narrates in our minds. “ He could just as well tell us what he really wants.”

“Why don’t you shut your useless mouth and tell us what you really want to tell us.” Ayna’s bravado is impressive. Even more so when I can sense her anger and fear screaming through the bond, a force so strong it’s outmatched only by my own.

“He’s playing with us,” I hiss into the mind link, hoping Kaira won’t tire of keeping it open and ready to give her an extra special position in our court if she manages to cultivate this ability and use it at will the way she can with the one-directional mind link. “He knows we don’t stand a chance, but he’s stalling. There is something he’s waiting for.”

“Perhaps he enjoys riling us up before he strikes us down,” Ayna suggests, but I fear that’s not enough of a reason.

“Want…” Ephegos slides his blade free from his weapons belt. “You’re smart, Ayna. You have probably already figured out the deal I made with the God of Darkness. What do you think I want?”

Ayna’s eyes dart to the side, colliding with mine as we both realize that Ephegos might want Askarea and Tavras and Cezux, but there is something he wants even more. Something that drove him to betray his own people. Something that he hasn’t been able to get, even when he kidnapped Ayna and sold her to Tavras then captured and tortured me. Revenge.

It all comes down to revenge.

Hurt Ayna to hurt me. Hurt me to hurt Ayna.

And even worse: the deal with Shaelak.

I’m not fast enough to hold Ayna back as she pulls her hand from mine, adjusting her grip on her dagger and sending that shield of liquid silver right at the traitor Crow who intends to kill me so Shaelak will honor his promise and make Ayna his.