Page 42

Forty-Two

Ayna

That bastard. He can go suck Shaelak’s cock for all that I care, as long as he disappears from this world right now.

“I will kill you.” I don’t care about the violence in my tone or Kaira’s shriek of warning as I break free from our reduced formation. I don’t care that Ephegos hasn’t commented on the disappearance of Clio and the rebels. I don’t care that Myron’s power is engulfing me in a solid layer of protection as I send my own magic right at Ephegos’s cold, dead heart.

Ephegos’s grin disappears behind a bright white and orange flash as my power hits the wall of fire the Flames pull up in front of him. For a moment, everything is consumed by light, my heart pounding hard as my fae senses slither through the inferno of power consuming the ice in the air and on the ground.

“Fuck it, Ayna,” Kaira exclaims in my mind. She doesn’t get any further than that, because swaths of fire surge for us, beating against our collective shield.

I can sense Myron reaching deep into his power to hold up the wall of magic, reinforcing it where the barrier sizzles into nonexistence, sword in one hand, and silver light laced with inky black rising from the other.

Ephegos disappeared somewhere behind the smoke of colliding powers, no trace of him visible as the explosion of light fades, and I want to shout my anger at the world. But visible or not, Ephegos finally gave the order to attack, and the Flames are coming for us, circle of fire-wielding fairies ever tightening around our spot at the center of the clearing.

We can’t run. We can’t fight our way out. The only thing we can do is make sure we don’t survive and get captured—and to take down as many as we can as we go.

“Where did he go?” Kaira asks aloud, but neither Myron nor I answer, our focus on the lines of Flames approaching with their fire raining on us and their blades ready to take over as soon as they get within reach.

Myron’s magic is racing across the battlefield now, swirls of silver and black battering against the onslaught of fire. To my left, Kaira’s power is humming as she siphons from the flames licking at our shields. Under different circumstances, her power could have been the one to turn around this battle, had that Guardiansdamned serum not coated the enemies’ armor. She could have sent their flames right back at them and watched them burn. Instead, all she can do is throw up a stronger shield with the hijacked magic, pushing it out farther to keep those bastards from our hides.

Another volley of fire hits my silver shield, the heat melting right through it, and I need to draw upon my reserves to patch it up fast enough to avoid being burned alive.

Myron’s curse suggests he’s either not faring any better or he noticed the instability in my shield. The way black and silver lines thread through the air before me tells me he’s taking care of the holes I’ve missed. It’s a whole lot of little gaps the Flames burned into the layer of protection, but they aren’t pushing any harder to put me down. As if they were ordered not to harm me.

But Myron—my heart all but stops as I realize that the holes in my own shield are nothing compared to what they are doing to his. Half of the side has been melted away, Myron drawing the layer of silver and black in closer and closer to his body, a retreat of a different sort when we have nowhere to run.

“They’re going to kill you.” The words taste like poison, even when only spoken in my mind. “You’ve got to shift and fly to safety.” Even as I think it, I know there is no way he’ll slip through the fire surrounding us, drawing tighter in a circle. Clio could have frozen the ground over and the air. She could have created ice crystals from the fog and sent them to douse the fire. But Clio isn’t here, and I must rely on myself to get us out.

Two Flames are close enough to reach us with their swords now, and sure as Eroth’s Veil, they swing their weapons at Myron and Kaira, artfully sweeping past me as I push out my power once more, regardless of the risk of touching their cursed armor. My Crow magic won’t be what saves us. Neither will my daggers if we don’t manage to reduce the number of opponents. If only?—

Tuning out Kaira’s pants as she struggles to juggle both her own power and the magic she siphoned from the Flames, and Myron’s growls and grunts as he parries blow after blow, I reach for the cool sensation of Vala’s water magic. I haven’t felt much of it since I turned immortal, haven’t managed much of wielding water, but the tiny droplets clouding the air are calling to me the way Vala’s voice once had.

So fast a spell of dizziness sways me, I delve into the thin string of power that’s not Shaelak-given and disperse it into the haze before me. Like growing crystals, the haze collects and hovers above us until heavy balls of water float toward me.

“Douse the fire,” Kaira shouts into my mind, but I have something else on my mind.

The Flame closest to Myron swings at him again, gaining a foot of space as Myron is forced to duck under the blade. Myron twists out of his path, knocking the side of his own sword against the fairy’s arm. Bones crack, and I want to take a breath, but two more Flames have made it to the front, working their way through Myron’s frayed shield.

They are my first targets. I don’t hesitate as I direct the balls of water right into their faces, savoring the splash followed by muffled screams and coughs as the liquid trickles down their throats. The first Flame goes down, drowning, while the other two realize where the attack came from and turn toward me.

They make it all of one step in my direction before Myron sneaks up on them, reaches around their necks, and slits their throats. The spray of blood evaporating on my shield is nothing compared to the puddle forming on the ground where the two Flames drop and roll over, life leaving their eyes.

“That went well,” Myron huffs as he pulls up his shield again, my magic knitting into his to stabilize it.

“Don’t celebrate just yet.” Because two more Flames have stepped up toward us, and these aren’t holding swords.

Without warning, one of them pierces through my shield with a spear of fire while the other one holds a flask up in front of him, using an attached mechanism to pump some of the liquid inside of it right at my face. A sharp inhale is enough for the sheen of liquid to enter my nose and mouth, and the tasteless, odorless serum is inside my body.

Myron is right there to pull me out of harm’s way, but I shove him back with my magic—while I still can—and watch him stumble into Kaira, who’s still fighting to keep up that shield of fire on her side.

“Drug,” I cough, before my legs become unstable, and I stagger to the side where more Flames are waiting, their blades at the ready and their fireballs hovering at their fingertips.

They got me with that fucking drug. And now my shield is faltering, magic slipping from my grasp like a rubber band snapping back to my center.

“Fight it,” Myron orders through the mind link, his presence reaching through the bond right into the essence of me. “Fight it, Ayna.”

“I can’t hold this much longer.” Kaira’s warning touches the back of my consciousness as I pour every ounce of willpower into holding onto my magic. Even when my power cannot touch the Flames through their armor, the water I’d collected could suffocate them. If I’d thought of that sooner. If I’d tried instead of allowing myself to submit to anger and panic?—

“Breathe, Ayna. Don’t give in.” Myron’s voice rings through me like a command. “Promise me. ”

I can’t.

Because my strength is fading alongside my magic, and all I can think of is to lie down and close my eyes.

“Ayna!” Myron’s voice is no longer in my mind, his hands locking around my biceps as he drags me against his chest, preventing me from toppling over. He slides one arm under my shoulders, tucking me to his side as his power circles us in a swirl of black and silver. “Stay with me.”

Nodding at him, I will strength into my legs. This was a small amount of the drug. Even if it went right into my system, I’m not feeling the nausea yet.

Perhaps this is the improved serum Erina spoke about. The thought alone brings on a wave of despair.

“Kaira,” I try through the mind link, but silence is all I get, so I whisper her name, unable to find her in my field of vision.

“Still fighting,” Myron reassures me, blocking another volley of fireballs with his shield. The ground trembles as he locks his knees against the force of it.

“Focus on yourself, Ayna,” Kaira orders from behind me, and my body instantly feels lighter with the relief of knowing she’s alive. “You still have your daggers to work with.”

I do. And Myron and Kaira both haven’t given up, so I won’t either.

Clutching my daggers with everything I have, I push a step away from Myron, bracing my feet apart against the relentless pull of my body toward the ground.

Fight , I tell myself. Because no goddess or god is pushing me to do so. I need to fight. If I don’t, Myron and Kaira will both die. If I don’t, Shaelak’s bargain will be fulfilled. If I don’t, I will be at Ephegos’s mercy.

Another spear of fire tears through the shield, and a scream erupts from my throat as the tip burns through the leathers at my shoulder, right at the edge of my collarbone. Myron’s head snaps toward me, his all-black eyes locking on mine, and I notice how similar he looks to the monstrous king I was first sold to. Black veins creep around his eyes, branching out like spider legs, and for a moment, he appears surreal, like a beautiful, dangerous creature from fairytales. Then, he is. And if the wrath on his features is anything to go by, the end of the world is nigh.

The moment passes as the smell of my own blood drenches the air, and the pain catches up with my senses.

It hurts like the burn and stab wound it is, the agony lancing down my arm and up my neck from where the spear pierced into me.

“It’s not deep,” I pant between my teeth. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Neither Myron nor Kaira believe me because they’re both at my side, Myron’s healing magic seeping into me while Kaira draws the shield of fire more tightly around her back while she extends it around us.

“Save your magic, King.” Kaira’s reminder that his power won’t do much to a body laced with the magic-nullifying drug doesn’t keep Myron from trying, though. The way he’ll always try anything to save me.

“Stop fighting,” Ephegos orders from too close by, making all of us whirl to the side where three Flames are stepping aside to let their leader pass through.

My body is weak and my pulse too fast as I will myself to remain on my feet, daggers firmly in my grasp. Beside me, Myron’s magic is whirling toward the voice, silver and black braiding into a rope he’s ready to throw around Ephegos’s neck while Kaira keeps pushing the shield to its limits to protect us all.

“There’s no escape for you.” Ephegos ignores Kaira’s curses as the Fire Fairies shove against her shield, his gaze remaining locked on Myron. With a wave of his hand, the three Flames flanking him set into motion, burning spears in their hands and that armor on their bodies that will prevent us from using our only advantage—well, no longer mine. Myron and Kaira are the only ones left with their magic.

My palms are sweaty from the effort of fighting the drug, but at least, I’m not nauseated or falling asleep. I’m weak but wide awake, every breath allowing my focus to sharpen even when I have nothing to hurl at my enemies.

Or do I?

They are aiming right for Myron, allowing me a moment of unobserved movement as I make a fool’s choice. A deep breath. A flick of my wrist. And my dagger is flying at Ephegos, sailing right for his eye.

Like in slow motion, I watch every spin of the blade, every sparkling reflection of the pale winter light as I wait for it to hit its mark. Someone grabs my arm, shoving me to my knees so fast I can barely catch my breath, and I taste blood as my teeth clang, the edge of my lip caught between them. I don’t care. All I can do is watch with rapt fascination as my dagger continues to spin toward its target. A heartbeat longer and Ephegos’s eye will be replaced by the hilt of my blade. I don’t care what they do with me afterward as long as I end this cycle of vengeance and hate that keeps driving Ephegos to work against his own people.

And since he made up his mind a long time ago, there’s no use appealing to his reason or compassion.

The dagger is a few inches from its mark, my heart hammering against my ribs at the thrill of anticipation, as a wall of translucent silver ripples from Ephegos’s hands, diverting the blade which spirals out of control, slicing into the leather armor on Ephegos’s shoulder.

The shield he pulled up flares and dies down where his armor covers his body like it can’t fully function with the magic-repellant enclosure, and had I not cried out with frustration at the near miss, I would have read more meaning into Ephegos’s inability to protect himself thoroughly. I would have pointed the others’ attention to the thought that the same had to apply to all opponents surrounding us in this clearing.

But Myron’s scent of wind and earth and moss, of pine and salty brine envelops me alongside the taste of his blood as he slumps to his knees beside me.

“No—” A long gash is splitting the skin of his cheek, blood raining down the side of his face onto the muddy ground before us.

“Drug,” Myron whispers through gritted teeth, his eyes back to their normal ocean color and those dark veins vanished, and I know this is it. Especially when Kaira’s knees land in the dirt to my other side, a Flame pointing a slender, silver sword at her neck as he forces her head low.

They sprayed them both with the serum. No shield of fire or silver and black is surrounding us, but we aren’t dead either. I still hold my other dagger loosely in my hand like a straw that could save me.

One glance at Ephegos, and I know he’s prepared for whatever fight I may put up. He might even enjoy a good struggle if the glint in his eyes is anything to go by.

“I wouldn’t try if I were you, Ayna,” he purrs, hair whipping around his face in the icy breeze howling through the clearing as he approaches, one slow step after another. With one hand, he examines the cut in his armor, fingers coming back bloodied, and he pulls a handkerchief from a hidden pocket in his jacket, wiping off the blood first then pressing the fabric to the wound. Cocking his head, he stops just out of reach, glaring down at Kaira then Myron, then at me. “I must say, I expected more from you, Ayna.”

The oily sensation of his gaze roaming over my hunched form doesn’t go away even when I spit at his feet, forcing his attention to the bloodied speck right before his boots.

“You’re one to easily trust your enemies. You have always been. You trusted Myron when you knew he’d be the death of you. You trusted me when I’d long planned to use you to punish him. You trusted Herinor even when he could never fully be part of your court. You trusted the Fairy King who locked us in that joke of a forest and doomed us. And you trusted Tata.”

He’s right. But he’s forgetting one thing. “I’m still here against all odds. Without trusting any of them, I would be dead by now.” Not that I was proud of misjudging Ephegos and Tata, but the rest of them—I wouldn’t change a thing.

It’s that moment when I realize that it doesn’t matter what Ephegos thinks or says. I’ve made my own family of people who support me. I have friends and a mate. I have two kingdoms that depend on me. I can’t die. I can’t give up, no matter what happens to me. No matter what Shaelak promised Ephegos.

Fingers tightening around the hilt of my dagger, I straighten an inch.

“Who do you trust, Ephegos?” A bitter laugh laces my gravelly tone as I lock my gaze on the traitor Crow. “Who do you trust but those you forced into loyalty by a bargain or an oath? Are you that afraid that no one will follow you without leverage over them? Are you worried no one will ever love you if you don’t have a god make them?” I see the pain coming before the Flame behind me grabs my braid, ripping back my head, and punches me in the face. Ephegos won’t allow anyone to question him. But I won’t be silenced. I won’t stop fighting.

Myron’s growl of fury is weaker than I care for, but at least the sound grounds me when the drug circulating in my system is ready to take me down.

On my other side, Kaira’s fingers dig into the wet soil.

“I don’t care what you think—” Ephegos coughs on the last word, unable to finish his sentences, and I show my bloodied teeth in a victorious grin. The Flame behind me is still restraining me by my braid, and I don’t bother to try to break free. What a waste of energy when I have found a weapon so much better than steel.

“If only you could lie.”

Another punch lands on my jaw, my teeth singing and stars dancing in my vision. I’m vaguely aware of Myron shouting my name, of his presence sliding through the bond as if he could catch me from the inside as I’m thrust face-first into the dirt.

A boot steps onto my shoulder, holding me down, and my dagger slips from my grasp, useless and weak as I struggle to keep my consciousness.

If Shaelak wasn’t a treacherous bastard of a god, I’d call for his aid, but he doesn’t seem to care about his progeny as long as he can ensure his creation continues to exist. To him, it doesn’t matter if I’m Myron’s mate or Ephegos’s as long as the Crows carry on.

Biting back a whimper, I brace my palm on the ground, pushing against the weight on my back hard enough to turn my head to where Myron’s eyes are already waiting, endless agony defining his features.

“Oh, look at that image of misery,” Ephegos drawls, no longer hiding behind polite facades. “Look at the souls entwined, how they’re suffering.” Like on a command, the Flames surrounding him laugh, and a shudder rakes down my back, making the pain in my jaw flare anew. “Pathetic.” He doesn’t meet my gaze though as he spits that verdict. Instead, his gaze lingers on Myron as he points his blade on my mate’s neck.

“No—” Again, I buck against the weight on my spine with everything I have, but my strength has left me, and all I can do is watch as Ephegos sets his blade to Myron’s skin.

“Leave him alone.” My words die in my throat as I’m shoved harder against the ground, but I’m not ready to give up. Never.

Ephegos merely chuckles, not even deigning to give me a glance.

“Let him go,” I whimper, pushing against the boot holding me down. “Please, Ephegos. I’ll do anything.”

“No.” Myron’s response cuts like a knife, but I don’t care. Anything to ensure he’ll get out of this alive.

At least, this gets Ephegos’s attention. “Interesting.” Tilting his head, he turns toward me, blade not moving an inch from Myron’s throat.

“Please let him go. I beg you.”

“Don’t,” Kaira hisses, and I get the faint idea that she’s already picked up on what I’m still putting together. “There is no way you can win if you make a bargain with a tyrant.”

“A bargain,” Ephegos muses as if he’s having the idea only now when we all know this is what it will come down to eventually. I don’t have leverage through weapons or magic. I don’t have a secret army waiting to step in. All I have is myself and the hope that I can outsmart Ephegos in a bargain.

“It’s all right, Ayna,” Myron murmurs, his ocean eyes boring into mine, and I need to fight the tears rising behind my eyes. “It’s all right. I knew I’d asked the gods for too much the day I begged them to return you to your human form. Eternity with you was a gift I never deserved.”

“Stop it.” I don’t intend to bite at him like that, but if I allow for any emotion to shimmer through, I won’t be able to do this. I won’t be able to give him up so he can live.

With a heavy breath, I direct my gaze at Ephegos. “He doesn’t need to die for me to be yours, Ephegos.” Inside my chest, my heart cracks, a fissure that won’t be sealed if I can convince Ephegos I mean it. So I shut down all thoughts of what could have been, all hopes of a future with Myron and this court I’ve been fighting and bleeding to build and protect, and speak those words that will damn me. “I’ll be yours if you let him live. I swear not to try to return to his Crow Court if you let Kaira go as well. Alive. The bargain is valid as long as you promise to never lay a finger on either of them again.”

Myron’s eyes fill with horror, but I ignore the surge of guilt as I bargain away our future. A future we won’t have if I don’t buy us a way out of this situation. Kaira’s silent sobs tell me she’s realized it too, that if I don’t succeed, I’ll be the only one to walk off this battlefield, and I’ll belong to Ephegos anyway. So as long as I buy them freedom, they can still fight to make a future for themselves.

“Please,” Myron murmurs, tone dead, and I know he’s not pleading with Ephegos whose expression has turned unreadable as he calculates the benefits and disadvantages of my offer. Myron is speaking to me, appealing to my heart that’s already shattering at the mere thought of what I’m signing up for.

But it’s worth it. If I can buy them freedom, it will be worth it.

“I love you, Ayna,” Myron murmurs.

Ephegos cuts a dark glance at the Crow King in the dirt and waves a hand for the Flame holding me down to release me.

“Deal.”

And the ancient magic of bargains snaps into place, binding an iron sash around my heart that will never be the same knowing everything I love is out there, waiting for me. Yet I’ll never return to it.