Page 12 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
Ten
Ayna
By the time we arrive in the dining room, everyone else is assembled around dishes laden with roasted meat and bowls of steaming vegetables.
Everyone, meaning Silas, Herinor, Royad, Rogue and Sanja, Clio and Tori, Andraya, and Pouly, but also three humans I’ve never seen before.
Two men and a woman sit at the long end of the table, all three of them clean and healthy and not at all afraid of the Crows and fairies sharing a meal with them.
The scent of fresh bread and hearty spices fills the air, and my stomach tightens from both hunger and the view of everyone I hold dear in this world assembled in one place— safe, if only for now.
“Ayna!” No one is more surprised than me when Silas leaps up first to fold me into a tight hug, abandoning the slice of meat speared on his fork.
A laugh bubbles from my throat at his enthusiasm, and I hug him right back. “Good to see you, Silas.” I pat his shoulder, withdrawing from the embrace to look him over. Black tunic, black leather pants, hair pulled back into a war braid, and a welcoming grin on his tan features.
“You look better than I’d expected,” he says with unusual spirit, all irony and darkness for once vanished as he studies my face. “I trust the reunion went well?” A subtle sniff tells me he can scent Myron on me, and I refuse to be ashamed.
“Perfectly well.” With a smirk, I turn to Royad and give him a long, warm hug, too. “It’s good to see you all alive and healthy.”
On the way up to the dining room, Myron and Kaira filled me in on what happened to Silas and Herinor after they were shot from the sky. I don’t know all the details yet, but I assume the three new humans at the end of the table are the rebels they freed when they escaped from their brief captivity.
I incline my head at Sanja and Rogue. “Thank you for taking care of my court while I was … indisposed.” It takes me a while to find an appropriate word, but this one fits.
“We’re glad to have you back, Ayna. And before you say anything else, your Crows weren’t any bother.
” Sanja reaches out with one arm, offering a hug across the table, which proves difficult with her belly, but we manage a short squeeze, and she chuckles with delight, placing a hand on her stomach when the baby kicks her ribs. “Active little bug.”
The pride in Rogue’s expression is outmatched only by the affection in his eyes as he gazes upon his mate. “Not a bother at all. Silas might actually prove to be a wonderful uncle to our little one once he’s born.”
“We don’t know if it will be a little fairy boy or fairy girl,” Sanja reminds him.
I let the two of them discuss the gender of their child in peace, turning to Herinor instead, who hasn’t moved from his seat across the table while Clio and Tori have gotten to their feet as well, the former attempting to squeeze the life out of me with a tight embrace while the latter places a hand on my shoulder.
“Thank the Guardians you’re back, Ayna.”
I smile at him over Clio’s shoulder as she lets me go. “Thank you.” But my gaze wanders back to Herinor, who looks like his life has just turned a hundred shades more difficult.
“You don’t seem especially happy to see me.” It’s not meant as an accusation.
“Because I ought not to be.” His tone is clipped, but the corner of his mouth twitches up in a crooked smile. “But I can’t help it; I’m glad you’re safe.”
Myron steps to my side, his hand sliding around my waist in a sign of support. My palm tingles with delight, and the figment of his power now residing inside of me purrs at my flare of emotion.
“As am I that you and Silas are safe.” The days of worrying what might have happened to all of them are nothing I want to revisit. “All of you. I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to any of you.”
My gaze finds Andraya and Pouly, their warm smiles all the forgiveness I need. After all, it was I who ordered Clio to take them out of the danger zone in the clearing.
Allowing Myron to guide me to the empty chair across from Clio and Tori, I take a seat, waiting for him to sit down next to me. Kaira walks around the table to take her usual chair next to Silas.
“And you…” I turn to the three humans at the end of the table.
“I’m Rochus,” the older of the three says, getting to his feet and bending into a deep bow, closely followed by the young man and woman.
“Ed and Gabrilla, my children, Your Majesty,” Rochus explains. “We are rebels from Tavras, working together with Andraya and Pouly to secure your throne in Meer.”
My chest tightens at the sight of yet three more lives ready to be given for a cause I never chose, and the memory of Meralis and the rebels from the camp I left behind springs to my mind like a warning to choose my words well.
“I met some of your friends in the borderlands, Rochus, Ed, and Gabrilla.” Turning slightly in my seat, I measure Pouly’s expression. “Someone very dear to Pouly,” I amend.
He straightens in his seat but doesn’t interrupt me with a question of who it might be, despite the way his entire body tenses as if bracing for bad news.
“Enhela sends her regards.” Warmth spreads in my chest at the broad smile spreading on Pouly’s features .
“You met my sister?”
“Her group of rebels shot me from the sky and—” I stop myself as I sense Myron freezing into marble beside me.
“Long story. They gave me a place to rest on my flight back from—” Again, I stop myself, unsure of where to begin, what to share and what horrors to keep to myself.
“They told me they’re on their way to the Seeing Forest.”
“To meet with our troops,” Tori confirms with the voice of the general, though his expression informs me he’s marveling at the coincidence of me running into them in the forests. “What are the chances…” Shaking his head, he shares a look with Royad, then with Rogue.
“Perhaps Shaelak hasn’t forsaken you altogether.” Kaira’s reminder of the God of Darkness’s betrayal is something I could have gone without for a good while longer, even when we’ll need to address it at some point.
“Shaelak is a chaos-loving son of a bitch who likes to play games with his creation.” No one is more surprised by Herinor’s words than I am.
“He’s the Brother Guardian after all,” Clio says with that nonchalance I envy her for. “Trust him to fuck things up for Ayna and Myron.”
I told him that I won’t kill for him, but if he managed to kill you, Myron of Winghaven, I’ll give him something better. I’ll make Ayna his mate. Shaelak’s words, I will never forget until my dying breath.
Clio earns curious glances from the rebels, and we all remember we’re not alone. The new faces at the table might be allies, but that doesn’t mean we need to share all the secrets .
I swallow all the words collecting on my tongue and turn to Rochus, Ed, and Gabrilla. “During your time at the enemy camp, did you notice anything? Special weapons or armor? Did you overhear anything that could be of use to us?"
While Ed blushes and stares at the meat-laden plate in front of him, Gabrilla shakes her head, wild tangles of long black hair swishing over the sleeves of her simple, moss-green dress.
It makes her lovely brown eyes stand out in her heart-shaped, tan face.
She must be around the same age as me, her expression speaking of years of hardship, the same as Rochus and Ed’s faces seem too hard for casual conversation over a dinner table brimming with delicious-smelling dishes.
“Nothing, Your Majesty,” Rochus answers, tone formal. “We weren’t conscious long enough to note much. Besides, our new friends Herinor and Silas surely have keener senses. If anyone spotted something of use, it would have been them.”
“We’ve already reported everything to Tori and Royad,” Silas reassures me, his gaze wandering to the three rebels, where it lingers a moment longer than necessary on the woman.
Gabrilla focuses on the green beans on her plate instead, as if she can’t bear to look him in the eye.
For a moment, I focus on the many heartbeats filling the room and find one erratic human heart that I believe must be Gabrilla’s.
Interesting.
Turning to Royad and Tori, I pick up the fork that magically appears in front of me alongside a plate and a crystal goblet filled with deep-red wine.
“So the rebels are all gathering by the Seeing Forest?” I help myself to a slice of bread and some of the cinnamon carrots from the bowl right next to the bread basket and start eating.
Beside me, Myron takes a sip of his wine. He’s following the conversation, but through the mating bond, I can sense his attention on me. Then, there is the tightness that won’t leave his body.
I’ll need to tell him the full truth of what happened since Ephegos dragged me from that battlefield, but not now. Not with all eyes on us and my heart not ready to watch him break.
“The idea is to gather the rebels from the north of Tavras by the southern finger of the Seeing Forest while the southern rebels keep Erina’s forces busy with little attacks and planting false trails,” Tori explains around a bite of potato.
It’s such a familiar sight that a smile creeps onto my lips—especially when Clio elbows him, hissing “manners” at him, and Tori swallows with a loud gulp before he continues.
“Pouly and I have spent the weeks since you were captured ”—he makes the word sound as unthreatening as possible—“to create a pattern of attacks and traps that will keep Erina occupied and give us time to collect enough men in Askarea to strike hard from the north.”
Royad nods his approval, seamlessly taking over Tori’s explanations. “That will bind Tavras’s attentions until Cezux decides to work with us.”
When I open my mouth to ask, Clio jumps in. “Myron, Royad, Andraya, and I tried to convince King Dimar II of Cezux to help us.” She leaves it at that, and the wariness of her tone makes me wonder if I even want to know what happened .
The queen in me decides I have to know, so I turn to Myron. “Who of you messed it up?”
It’s supposed to be funny, but Myron bows his head, guilt written in his features.
“I did,” Clio comes to his rescue. “I site-hopped them all there, and I guess I could have been more polite to the King of Cezux.”
Myron shakes his head. “It’s not because of you, Clio. He hates Crows. He’s not interested in supporting any alliance that includes the winged monsters who used to haunt his lands.” His eyes dart to Sanja, whose expression has turned somber.
“He would listen to me if I went in person,” she says in a defeat-heavy tone that tells me they’ve had this conversation many times—and haven’t found a solution.
Rogue mentioned before that he won’t risk Sanja and their unborn child by site-hopping them across the lands, and I’m not sure Sanja herself can site-hop.
It’s another question to add to my ever-growing list that needs to wait until the time is right.
With a sigh, I take Myron’s hand with my free one and take a bite of the bread, the rye-and-honey scent of which has been climbing into my nose since the moment I sat down at this table.
“You’ve made a plan to divert Erina. Ephegos is an element we have no control over, but likely, his forces are where Erina needs them.
As for King Dimar—” I rinse down the bread with a deep sip of my wine, savoring the rich bouquet of spices and late-fall sun all bottled up to enjoy when the winter months strike hardest. “We’ll find a way.
We’ve made it this far. We won’t fail now. ”
“Ayna is right,” Clio agrees, jade eyes lighting up. “We should celebrate the wins tonight rather than bemoan the losses. The Queen of Crows has returned.” She raises her glass, and the rest of the table follows.
“To the Crow Queen,” Silas cheers.
“To the Crow Queen,” Royad and Herinor and Myron echo.
“To the Queen of Tavras.” Andraya sips from her wine, sending a warm smile my way, and so do Pouly and the other rebels.
My heart threatens to explode when Myron finally leans in and whispers, “To the queen of my heart.”