Page 50

Fifty

Herinor

“Do the gods ever watch over us, or are they merely observing us in our misery for their own amusement?”

I lift my head from the rough woolen blanket covering the bed I’ve curled up in, barely daring a glance at the stars-and-ink-woven night sky outside the window.

“Observe,” I answer Silas’s question. “Definitely observe.”

A soft chuckle sounds in the corner of the room where Kaira sleeps in a bed as close to the kitchen as possible. After all, she’s the one who’s still shivering after a full day of sitting by the stove and a night of sleeping under a stack of covers. I’m not sure I’m surprised she’s suffering from the burnout she got so close to when channeling the magic of the shield to break through it. Brilliant idea, really. But my stomach still turns in knots at the memory of her shivering form when Myron carried her back to the rebels’ hideout.

I allowed him to carry her because time was of the essence, and discussing whether he could take Silas instead would have cost precious moments neither of us had. Perhaps the gods were watching over us after all that day when they allowed Kaira’s magic to blast everything but the people she was determined to rescue. Even Rochus, Ed, and Gabrilla have recovered by now.

When I cock my head and glance at Kaira’s peaceful, sleeping face, I find Gabrilla sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling the covers higher on Kaira’s shoulders, and stifle a sigh. The rebel girl has been taking care of the part-Flame since the moment we dragged ourselves across the threshold into the warmth of the farmhouse. It’s a godsdamned miracle Ephegos’s men haven’t found us in the two nights we’ve been here because I’m pretty certain we left a bloody trail in the frost all the way from the camp, which now lies in rubble. It’s also annoyingly frustrating none of the fairies have come looking for us. Surely, Clio must have sent aid the moment she made it to Aceleau. Unless Tata managed to do proper damage before the Fairy Princess made it back. A shudder shakes my shoulders, and I nestle deeper into the blanket, feeling deep into my powers as I ponder what happened after Silas and I got separated from the rest of the group.

Myron shared enough to last for a lifetime of terror. His mate—gone. Even if she went willingly, she’s still in Ephegos’s claws. Even if she’s an immortal Crow now, he can still hurt her in ways I don’t even want to imagine, and I would know. I used to be a master at torture.

Another glance at Kaira and I wonder if I could lie down and close my eyes even for a heartbeat if it was the part-Flame in Ayna’s place. Clutching the blanket around my shoulders, I roll out of bed and pad across the room, careful not to wake the others.

When I stop next to Kaira’s bed, Gabrilla lifts her head, staring up at me as if I were a ghost appearing out of thin air. I keep forgetting the rebels are humans and she probably didn’t notice me until I was right next to her.

“I’ll take over the watch.” It’s not a question, and Gabrilla is smart enough not to question me. With the fluidity of a trained fighter, she shoots to her feet and, with a curt nod, makes her way back to her own bed where she slides under the covers and rolls over.

For a moment, I wonder if I can simply sit on Kaira’s bed. She hasn’t spoken to me more than the most necessary words since the disaster by the camp. Then, she hasn’t spoken much to anyone else either. If the rebel girl can sit with her, I most certainly can.

My heart picks up pace as I lower myself onto the mattress, sitting next to her hip, and sweep her form with a glance. She looks so fragile under the heavy covers. Lost, almost, her hair tangled around her head and her features pale from the aftereffects of coming so close to burnout.

I don’t know how much more time she’ll need to be back on her feet, but the others are nearly ready. Myron and I recovered enough to heal Silas’s and the humans’ wounds. The rest was a good night’s sleep and a few warm meals—thank the gods the rebels’ house was properly stocked up with storable foods.

But Kaira?—

Kaira wasn’t able to walk from the kitchen to the bedroom without help before getting to bed. Myron helped her while I cleaned up the kitchen and discussed the situation with the oldest rebel, Rochus. We couldn’t stay much longer in a place where the enemy knows to come looking. And we can’t go after Ayna either. That leaves us with the option to head back north and make our way to Aceleau. If none of the fairies have come looking for us, that means there’s a chance they need our help more than we do theirs.

The bed creaks, and Kaira stirs, eyelids fluttering as if she’s having a bad dream, but she doesn’t wake. I don’t care who hears it when I bend over her a few inches and whisper, “From now on, I won’t let you out of my sight, Kaira.”

I tell myself that it is because I don’t want her to get into any more trouble, and it is a part of the reason. It truly is. But mainly, ever since she showed up behind the camp exactly at the right moment to save my sorry ass, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her. Every moment I turn my back to her feels like a waste. Every minute I don’t tell her there’s been something brewing inside my chest and I will no longer ignore it is like breathing under water.

Since I’ve spent millennia in denial of any emotion, I’m not exactly fluent in sharing my feelings with anyone. So I’ll wait until she’s no longer fighting burnout to tell her what she means to me.

I don’t know how long I sit there, but eventually even Silas’s breathing returns to the even cadence of sleep. When day eventually breaks through the wall of shadows and a ray of sun wanders the worn wood of the floor, the others rise and make their way to the kitchen, Gabrilla giving me a smile of understanding and thanks as she pads by in her woolen socks, her pants and thick woolen shirt hanging loosely on her athletic frame.

Myron pats my shoulder, briefly stopping to check in on the patient. “She looks better.” He brushes back a strand of hair from Kaira’s forehead, assessing her temperature, and nods with approval. “No fever. And the color is returning to her cheeks.”

He doesn’t need to point that out. It’s the first thing I noticed when the first light climbed into the room. A light blush lingers on her bronze cheeks, the tint so delicious I want to bend down and brush my mouth over it.

Myron eyes me like he’s seeing right into my black soul. “You wake her,” he orders. “I’ll help make breakfast.” And he disappears through the door, letting it swing shut behind him.

Drinking in the sight of Kaira’s face—the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the messy tresses spilled across the pillow, the arch of her neck where it meets her collarbone an inch above the rim of the covers… I swallow hard.

I don’t know nearly enough about this female. Yes, I know about how hard her life was with the Flames before Myron and Ayna adopted her into their court. I know I didn’t do a stellar job at helping her out when we first met at Jeseida’s estate, or later, when she was trying to get Ayna out of Erina’s palace. I was an arrogant, cowardly, selfish bastard, and she saw me anyway. She didn’t give up on believing there was a kernel of good in me. She has no idea that, without her, I would have remained an observer of Ayna’s misery instead of finding ways to help everyone around her. With her fierce, unwavering loyalty to her sister, Kaira burned a path right to my heart until I could no longer live with myself just watching the Crow Queen waste away.

“Good morning.”

Her raspy voice startles me from my thoughts, but the calm in her eyes anchors me before my heart can kick into a frenzy.

“Good morning.” I attempt a smile but am almost convinced it’s a grimace at best.

Kaira manages a weak grin in return, and my heart all but explodes.

“You look better.” Keep it casual. Breathe.

She digs her hand out of the covers and reaches for her face, the side where a bruise was blooming less than a day ago. “I feel better.” Closing her eyes, she takes a few deep breaths as if taking inventory of her body—or her magic. When her eyes open again, a yawn stretches her mouth, and she rolls to the side, hiding it in the pillow.

I want to tell her that she doesn’t need to hide anything from me. I’ve seen her at her worst when she was purging from the drug after the first escape from Erina’s palace. I want to tell her that she’s beautiful. That I’m anxious I’ll never be able to look away again. “Hungry?” I ask instead. “The others are preparing breakfast.”

Rolling out of the pillow, Kaira gives me a glance of mock-disapproval. “What? So you’re the only lazy bastard not helping out?”

Biting back a laugh, I give her a wicked grin. “Technically, you’re the lazy one. You’ve been sleeping most of the time since we returned here.”

Her expression of outrage is equally adorable as it is reassuring that her energy is returning.

“ I blasted you out of that camp, in case you don’t remember.” Her voice is back, the croak vanishing as she falls into a pattern of banter I realize only now how much I’ve missed. “While you preferred to cuddle with Silas on his deathbed.”

“Not deathbed,” I correct. “Death- frosted-ground , in case you don’t remember,” I counter, warmth filling every last corner of my body as this female gives me her full attention after so many weeks of barely speaking. No hint of the judgement or disappointment from after she learned how much of the knowledge I’d held back lingers. And I’d be lying if I said there isn’t a boulder crumbling from my chest.

Before I can spill any of these thoughts, I get up from the bed and hold out a hand for her. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

At that, she smiles a real, broad smile that pierces straight through all layers of protection I’ve built, and I nearly fall to my knees to confess all the hundreds of ways I’ve dreamt of her, that shoving her up against the wall is no longer connected to that ire sometimes flooding me when she hits a nerve but mainly to the way I want to feel her pressed up against me.

“Breakfast sounds perfect.”

I don’t know why she’s whispering as she lays her fingers into my palm, folding back the covers. I don’t know why my hand is shaking as I hold hers firmly but gently, pulling her to her feet and failing to stop pulling until she’s half a foot from me, her face tilted up as her eyes search mine for answers I’m not sure I have. The warm, woolen pants and shirt Garbilla helped her into before bed look so soft and cozy I can almost talk myself into using them as an excuse to touch her.

“You smell like sunshine.”

She gasps like she’s trying to take back her words, but I already have a retort ready on my tongue—one I’m not speaking because who cares that she still features the lingering scent of fatigue and terror. At least the odor of blood and gore is gone, and since I’m certain the terror has nothing to do with me, I’m happy to keep my mouth shut for once, merely smiling.

For a long, heart-stopping moment, Kaira tightens her fingers around mine, the brown of her eyes splintering into an array of colors as I dare look into them. Hues of moss and hazelnut laced with sprinkles of a blue so deep it barely shimmers through. Thin lines of gold and burgundy weave together around her pupils so wide I can glimpse the dawn and the end of time.

Before I can piece together what I see, her stomach growls, and she blinks, stepping away and dropping my hand. “We better go eat.”

“We better,” I agree, my gaze still glued to her face as she starts walking, and I follow like a dumbfounded fool.