Page 5

Five

Herinor

Myron’s a mess, and that’s putting it kindly. Since he returned from his own nightly trips around midnight and Ayna still hadn’t settled on her pillow, he’s been pacing a trail into the carpet of the common room, right in front of the silver brocade couch Silas is occupying. The frown on his features is the least of our problems if our queen doesn’t show up any time soon.

“You sure she wasn’t following you this time?” Silas prompts. His hair is even more unruly than I’m used to, and he could have bothered with putting on a shirt. At least, he opted for pants before joining us for the commotion.

“I would have seen her.” It’s Royad who responds even when Myron could have given the exact same response.

Bad enough that Royad now spends his nights as a bodyguard for both Myron and Ayna when he’s supposed to rest and gather enough strength to kick Erina’s army the next time we run into them.

Folding my arms over my chest, I lean back in the armchair and glance out the window. “She could be out there right now.”

“Somewhere out there,” Myron agrees, a bit frantic. “Anywhere.” His head whips around, painfully blue eyes meeting mine with that punishing glare I’ve come to expect whenever he looks my way. “She could be anywhere between here and the Southern Continent.”

“Aren’t you a bit dramatic?” Silas picks my line right from my mouth. “I thought Clio was the drama queen here.”

Wrong thing to say. Wrong moment to joke and tease. He should know it. He’s the one who knows what it means to be mated—and to lose her.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think,” Royad snaps, stepping between Myron, whose gaze could kill, and Silas, who has the good sense to straighten and show a modicum of respect. “Ayna disappeared. And I don’t mean headed-to-the-kitchen-for-a-midnight-snack disappeared but disappeared. ”

“She never came back after training,” Myron adds so softly I wonder if he’s spoken at all. With a shaky hand, he fingers off his cloak, tossing it next to Silas onto the couch. “I thought she might have avoided me again and that she’d show up later, but when she wasn’t in our room when I returned…” He stops. Braces his hands on the back of my chair for a heartbeat. Continues pacing.

“You panicked?” Silas supplies. I grunt a warning at him, which he dismisses with a hiss. “He is panicking, isn’t he?”

“Of course I’m panicking,” Myron confirms. “I missed dinner because I wanted to try something new at the temple, so I only realized she was missing when I returned a few minutes ago.” He heaves a breath. “We should be searching for her. I should be out there. She’s been off all week. Colder than the first days in her bird form. What if she forgot who she is.” Where she belongs , is what he doesn’t need to add.

It’s a horrible thought, but not as far-fetched as Myron might hope. It’s happened before, even to seasoned Crows, that they stayed in their bird form so long their instincts took over entirely and they forgot?—

At least, now we have Kaira and Tori to speak with her through the mind link. As long as she keeps talking with them, she won’t lose herself—at least, I hope so for Myron and all of us.

“She’s not forgotten you,” Royad says, and I want to call him out that he must be a fool to believe it not to be a lie, but I’m wise enough to hold my tongue.

“She’s been in her bird form for a few weeks. That’s long enough to submit to your instincts. You, better than anyone, should know,” Silas reminds the devastated king of the months he tried to escape the curse by turning into a bird and roaming the Seeing Forest in that form so long it took his father’s most accomplished soldiers days to hunt him down and bring him back. I never learned how they forced him to shift back, but the memory seems to bring enough pain for Myron’s mouth to twist into an agonized line.

“What if someone took her?” It’s not a better option, but at least, that would mean she didn’t choose to leave him behind, and that’s all I can hope for when I watch Myron’s expression of defeat turn into one of ire.

“Then I’ll hunt that bastard down and tear him to pieces—slowly.”

He means it. And I’ll be right there with him. Avenging my queen doesn’t count as aiding her where the oath to Ephegos is concerned, so perhaps that’s my loophole. Tucking that theory away for later, I get to my feet and stroll over to the window where the moonlit night has turned into smudges of clouds torn by heavy winds.

“It’s not flying weather out there.” Again, the truth. It’s all I have to offer. “If she set out by herself, she might have sought shelter in a tree or a cave and will be back by the time the storm dies down.” As if to emphasize my point, a gust of wind rips a twig from a tree and smashes it into the window.

Even Silas flinches, hand twitching to the hatchet he’s discarded beside him on the silver brocade.

“I don’t know what thought is worse, taken by enemy or taken by storm,” Royad muses while Myron’s face reassembles into that expression he only wears when he’s coming up with plans no one else dares consider.

“Don’t even think about it,” Royad warns before Myron can even voice what he’s decided. “It’s too dangerous to go after her.”

“It’s too dangerous not to,” Myron objects. “If I wait until the storm dies down, whoever’s taken her might have dragged her all the way to the Tavrasian border.”

“ If someone took her,” I correct. “We don’t know that for sure.”

“And we don’t want to risk the outcome of Erina’s men having found her. Askarea is huge, the borders wide, and not every inch of land can be patrolled at all times. It’s possible someone snuck through and found her.”

“Unlikely if she didn’t leave the premises,” Silas says with the serious tone I so rarely hear from him. It’s the male I remember from before the curse—from before he lost Dahlia. “And where else should she have gone in this city if not follow you to the temple? It’s what she’s done every damn night.”

He’s got a point.

“Does Recienne know anything?” Royad’s question puts the fear of the gods in me. The Fairy King is still a male-pretty sentimentalist in my opinion, but he’s also powerful enough to snuff out a life with a flick of his fingers. With this power, why he bothers to do his hair every morning, I still need to understand.

“I’m not ready to alert the entire palace,” Myron murmurs, frantic gaze back on the window while he stands so still I wonder if he’s still breathing. At least, he’s given up pacing. “We should inform Tori first.”

As if making the decision as he speaks, Myron starts for the door, his movements a blur as he uses his full fae speed for once. Good. I’d been wondering when that would kick in.

He’s a Crow male after all. A Crow king . His strength and power should be putting mine to shame even with the centuries I have on him.

A part of me begs for it to be true because, if it’s not, that would mean that, when it comes to it—one on one—I’d defeat him. And I can’t let that happen. Murderous, uncivilized bastards that the Crows are, we deserve a king like him—someone who will lead us into a prosperous future. If we ever find times of peace and a realm to call our own.

With a sigh, I watch Royad and Silas file out the door, ready to aid our king, and I’m about to do the same, but the door to Kaira’s room opens, and the part-Flame, hair tousled and tangled around her head, gives me a damning look that drives a knife to my gut.

“I didn’t do anything.” I have no idea why I even bother if she thinks whatever happened is my fault, and I’m far from ready to examine the sensation as she narrows her eyes at me and I feel like I’m waiting for her to decide my fate.

“If the others are running and you’re still here, I assume it’s about helping Ayna.” Tugging the chocolate-colored woolen blanket over her shoulders, Kaira trudges to the sofa and plops down in the exact same spot Silas was lounging in earlier and pulls her bare feet under her.

“If it’s about Ayna, I’m surprised you aren’t right behind them,” I counter, waiting for the blow to land, but Kaira merely shrugs.

“She needed some space.”

Godforsaken fuckers of Hel’s realm. “You know where she is?”

Another shrug. “She doesn’t simply disappear without informing me—intentionally or not.” She glances at the window, at the trees bending to the force of the weather. “She should be back by morning. I didn’t think Myron would notice with his own nocturnal prowls through the city.”

“Nocturnal what ?” I nearly spit at her.

“Prowls.” She makes that face—the one that makes me want to grab her by the throat and shove her against a wall.

“Violence doesn’t suit you.” I’m not imagining the challenge in her tone, am I? And?—

“Get out of my head.” I lean against the windowsill, bracing my hands next to my hips, and listen for signs that Tori is sending a search party into the night.

“Gladly”—she smirks—“if you stop thinking about squeezing the life out of me.”

If that’s what she picked up on, she’s not nearly as deep in my mind as she thinks. Ignoring the blush trying to creep up my neck, I growl a warning. “You’re practically begging for it.” Not in the way she means it, though.

Kaira sticks out her tongue and nestles into the blanket until the fabric covers her from her toes to her chin.

“And why are you not concerned about the wellbeing of your kin?” A lame attempt at pushing her fiery focus away from me, but it’s worth a try, or I’ll go down a path neither of us is ready for.

“My kin is a traitorous pack of fire-spitting monsters, in case you haven’t noticed. But if you’re asking about Ayna, she is a big crow. She can take care of herself, in any form.”

Ouch!

“She’s defenseless in her bird form. No magic, no weapons?—”

“And about a thousand chirping and cawing creatures out there away from being recognized to be anything other than an actual bird. ” Kaira throws me a glare that could cut through my skin if I allowed her close enough. “Not everyone is out for our blood, Herinor. This is the palace of our allies , and we’re safe here.”

“As safe as anyone can be with at least three different species out for their blood.” Erina with his human soldiers, whatever is left of the Flames, and my own traitorous kin who are now fighting on Ephegos’s side. Before I allow her to drag me further into this discussion, I ask, “Don’t you think it would be smart to inform Myron that you know the whereabouts of his mate? It might save some random person’s head tonight.”

“Or yours.”

Gods, is she taking the fire of her kind to the next level.

“My head is forfeit. The moment I act out of line, Myron will have it with a smile, and if I toy with the deal I made with Ephegos, my death will be the smallest inconvenience within the repercussions of old magic claiming me.”

I’m not certain what shocks me more: the horror in her eyes or the pity it transitions into so quickly I want to rage.

For a heartbeat, she weighs my words. “Perhaps I should.” There’s no spark left as she gets to her feet, padding across the room and out the door to where the voices of the fairy general and the Crow King are finally drifting toward us.