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Ayna

It takes about an hour before the camp is set and someone opens the door to throw a blanket at me. My tears have dried, leaving only resolve behind.

If I want to flee, it has to be tonight. My powers are strong enough to defend myself against a Flame or a few humans, even if I can’t defeat Ephegos. I can’t risk waiting another night.

The guard shuts the door in my face when I open my mouth to ask when we’ll continue in the morning, so I gather the blanket around me, huddling on the bench while I listen to the sounds of the settling soldiers outside, counting their footsteps as they do their rounds.

For a long time, muffled voices are murmuring by what sounds like the crackling of a fire. Metal scrapes against metal as they eat. Only when the last plate has been stacked and stored does the activity die down to a minimum of two soldiers patrolling the camp. They stop to look into the carriage through the curtains that have been drawn open so they can keep an eye on me. It allows me to catch a glimpse of who’s still up and who’s sleeping in the row of bedrolls behind the fire.

When the footsteps fade into the other direction, I crawl into a crouch, daring a longer look outside.

Horses are tied up by a tree, heavy blankets covering their backs and flanks. Only one of them is saddled. A guard is stoking the fire while the other one is heading into the bushes, probably to relieve himself of the diluted wine they sometimes smell like.

“Don’t take too long,” the one by the fire calls after the one already unbuckling his belt as he heads for the trees.

He’s only disappearing between the branches when a shadow stalks up to the guard by the fire. Forcing myself to stay still, I count my own heartbeats as Ephegos’s face appears beneath the hood of a cloak as he approaches the flickering flames.

My fae senses are back to their full extent, so I hear every last word as the traitor Crow announces, “I’ll be riding ahead to the outpost. Erina will be pleased to know his bride will return in the morning.”

Morning. I suck in a steadying breath.

The guard salutes, clacking his heels together.

“Make sure the maids at the outpost clean her up and dress her for his majesty before you bring her up to his quarters.”

The guard hesitates for a moment. “What if she causes problems?”

That earns him a laugh from his master. “She’s been drugged for days. The only problem she’ll cause is vomit onto your uniform.”

The guard doesn’t seem convinced.

“If she does cause issues of any sort, one hand off. She won’t need both to fulfill her purpose.”

Again, that wave of ice slides through my veins, and I can barely move at the amount of malice gathered in that one Crow.

“Safe travels, General.” The guard salutes again, watching Ephegos march up to the horse and hoist himself into the saddle. With a kick of his heels, he spurs the beast into a trot, and I can’t help sighing a breath of relief as they are swallowed up by night.

Hands shaking around the corners of my blanket, I settle back onto the bench and count to two hundred. I don’t know how good Ephegos’s hearing is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he returned at the slightest hint of commotion.

Only when I’m sure there is no chance he can make out the noises of potential battle do I risk another peek out the window. The guards are back on their rounds, walking the outer edge of the camp probably a hundred feet away from the carriage, while the rest of the camp is defined by the sounds of snoring and the occasional owl hooting in the nearby trees.

They’ll be checking on me in a minute or two, which leaves me with the decision to ready myself for a surprise attack or duck back onto the bench and pretend to be sleeping.

My heart races in my chest as I wait a few more beats, weighing my options. If I attack and they have the magic-nullifying potion at their disposal, I won’t stand a chance. The moment they spray me, I’ll be fighting a battle against my fading strength as much as the two soldiers. The noise we’d make would surely wake the rest of the camp, and I’ll be losing a hand if the guard follows Ephegos’ orders word by word.

Dammit . I mouth my curses into the night, curling up on the bench once more and closing my eyes as the footsteps draw near enough to count down to the moment the door will open.

Some deity in this universe must have mercy on me because they don’t bother to do more than look inside the window to convince themselves I’m still there and sleeping. Their shadows block out the pale light of the star-flecked firmament for three long breaths before they turn around and disappear, murmuring something to each other and chuckling.

How my hands itch to take hold of their throats and twist their necks—but that would be just what I was discussing with Shaelak not even three hours ago. That I’m no better than the monster that is Ephegos. I smother a shudder, reaching for the edge of the door handle with an unsteady hand, and wait until the guards’ footsteps disappear on the farthest end of the parameter.

It’s now or never.

This carriage doesn’t host any weapons, so I take with me the only piece that might allow me to block drug-coated blades on my way out: the brass handle.

It creaks as I carefully crack the door open then pull it from the wood, the vibrations in my skin and bones proof of the sound, but the small shield I threw around my hand is strong enough to block it out entirely, even to my own ears. A small smile spreads on my lips as I peek through the tiny gap, assessing the quiet camp.

The guards are somewhere near the horses, so stealing one of the beasts is out of the question.

Pulling up a full-body shield close enough to my skin not to shimmer like a silver beacon in the night, I glide from the carriage and quietly shut the door, ducking under the cabin. There, I listen for any sign I’ve attracted attention.

Everything remains quiet. One of the horses stomps a hoof and huffs into the cold night.

With a glance in all directions, I convince myself the air is clear.

Then I bolt for the nearby bushes.

My feet don’t respond the way I’m used to after being trapped for such a long time while recovering from the effects of the drug, but my fae body handles it well. I stumble over the uneven ground, catching myself with my hands and biting back a wince as the brass door handle leaves an imprint in my palm when my full weight lands on the hand holding it. I freeze, glancing toward the sleeping soldiers then to where I expect the two guards.

Nothing stirs, so I continue my mad dash toward the cover of branches.

A few more steps.

Five.

Three.

I’m there.

My lungs burn from tension and the insane speed of my sprint, but I hold in my loud pants, willing my blood to slow and my muscles to relax. The guards must still be somewhere near the horses. I can’t make any mistakes. Right now, I simply choose a direction and run. I run like the wind, like the storms blowing over the oceans that used to be my home.

I leap over a fallen tree, duck under low-hanging branches, and I’m out of the small forest that gave me cover. I don’t stop as my shield starts to falter from exhaustion or when I enter the open fields that must be the edge of the Plithian Plains. Not when I get to a narrow stream or when exhaustion finally takes over.

I keep running without looking left or right. It doesn’t matter where I go as long as it’s far, far away from Ephegos and that camp.

The world is a blur as I race for my life, for my freedom, repeating the names of my loved ones in my head.

Myron. Kaira. Royad. Clio. Tori. Silas. Sanja. Rogue. Andraya. Pouly. Herinor. Even Herinor, who has been running from Ephegos for much longer than I have. Who has been maneuvering around the bargain he made with Ephegos successfully despite the clear orders not to help me. He has managed not to hurt me either.

I made a bargain less foolish than his, and I’m determined to test its limits.

Run, Ayna.

Heat flares in my palm.

I open it against the icy wind, dropping my shield to cool down my body as sweat beads my neck, my forehead.

Just a little farther and I can take a break.

Twigs crack behind me, the sound of hooves pounding the frozen soil sending a flash of fear through my body.

Faster. I need to be faster.

My magic is ready to draw up a stronger shield, to block out whatever will be thrown at me if whoever is chasing me catches up.

Please don’t let it be Ephegos. Please-please-please.

The moves draw nearer, and a shout echoes through the trees. “Stop!”

Not Ephegos. This isn’t Ephegos.

As if in confirmation, a ball of fire zooms past my ear, and I veer to the side, avoiding the blast of the flames spreading as it explodes by mere inches.

The shield is back up, but I need to get out of here before they can cook me alive.

At least, this isn’t a Crow who can send their silver power to break my neck.

A Crow.

The male following me isn’t a Crow. But I am.

As I stumble away from the next fireball chasing me, I know what I need to do.

You can do it, Ayna. For Myron. For Kaira. For your court. For your family.

So I draw upon my Crow power, sighing a mad laugh of relief as a flicker of darkness and feathers responds, coating my shifting body. My arms change in proportion, turning into powerful wings, my legs shrink, feet becoming claws. And then I’m flying.

I might be out of shape, but my body remembers every last movement, wings spreading and beating the freezing night air. Like lightning, I zigzag through the skies, up, up until I can taste a wisp of clouds.

“Coward!” the Flame below shouts after me, a string of curses following as I increase my speed.

I will make it out of here. I will be free.

As I repeat that in my head like a mantra, my wings swallow up the distance like it’s nothing. I was born to fly. Born to be a Crow. My entire body sings at the loving caress of the wind as it carries me farther into the sky.

You can’t break your bargain, a whisper of magic reminds me as I change direction, following the burning pull in the tip of my wing—where the palm of my human form would feature the mate mark.

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.

I repeat the exact wording of my bargain back to me and cackle a laugh.

I’m not trying, I tell the magic of bargains tingling in my chest, demanding I turn around. I’m not trying. I’m actually doing it. And before you choose to smite me: It’s not Myron’s court I’m returning to. It’s my own.

The tingling stops, and I caw my relief into the night.

Just as I beat my wings harder to push myself higher, a spark of fire brushes my wing, and my feathers catch fire.

No!

This can’t be happening. I can’t have suffered through all of this, have broken free only to be captured again.

Willing everything I have into my powers, I tighten the shield around my body, smothering the air feeding the fire at the edge of my wing.

A plume of smoke is all that remains as I soar away into the night.

I’m coming, Myron. I’m coming back to you.

WHAT’S NEXT?

Want to know how Ayna’s story continues?

The final installment in the Wings of Ink series is coming August 31st, 2025.