Page 24 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
Seventeen
Ayna
When we arrive at the palace, Kaira is lounging on the silver brocade sofa in the common room of our suite, her legs kicked up on the armrest and her gaze on the bonfire flaring in the gardens.
A long cloak is wrapped around her body like she just came in from the cold and hasn’t bothered to drop it.
The room is only dimly lit, allowing me to make out the outlines of tall figures moving in front of the flames, but none of them are dancing.
“That took longer than expected.” I drop into a chair across from her and close my eyes, head resting against the silver cushions.
The fabric of her cloak makes crisp sounds that don’t match the material as she shifts in her seat. “I can neither spot bruises on you nor smell blood. That means you didn’t get yourself into a fight.”
With a tired chuckle, I lift my lids, cutting her a glance. “I can be civil.”
Kaira’s mischievous grin is a sight for sore eyes. “That has yet to be determined.” With a slender hand, she gestures at my leathers. “Right now, you look like a savage. I’m surprised they didn’t kick you out at those camps.”
Before I can pretend to be upset, she hops up from the sofa and shakes out her hair, waving me on as she heads for her bedroom. “Come on, let’s get you into something worthy of a Flame Winter Solstice celebration.”
I’m too tired to object, so I follow her, already unbuckling my weapons belt as I spot the heap of lace and silk laid out on her bed. “What’s this?” Lifting the sleeve of a black lace gown, I decide I don’t want to know.
“Your wardrobe for the celebrations.” Kaira’s eyes are practically glowing as she picks up the dress by the shoulders and holds it up in front of her. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
I’m not demure on my good days and outrageous on my bad days, but this dress—“Are you sure? This is impossible to fight in and looks more like a nightgown than something to be worn in public. Besides, I’ll freeze in that.”
The sound of amusement coming out of Kaira makes me fear meeting Iliana and her rebel soldiers won’t remain the highlight of the day much longer. “It’s a Flame celebration. No one will freeze. Besides, you’ll wear a cloak on top. ”
Dropping the dress back on the bed, she runs her hands down the front of her own cloak, that grin returning, and I can’t help the suspicion bubbling up in my stomach.
“What are you wearing underneath?” I pretend not to notice her fake shock. “And more importantly, is Clio wearing something like that, too?”
I eye the dress like it’s a beast that could devour me whole, but my attention is drawn back to Kaira as she unbuttons her cloak to reveal silk and lace in deepest shades of wine.
Patterns of loose flames creep from the low hem to the high collar, covering only the most intimate parts of her to a full while the rest of her skin is practically bare except for trails of intricate ornamentations spreading out from the seams. Those are the fieriest hues of orange interlaced with yellows and threads of gold.
It’s beautiful in its own unique way and not in the least inappropriate, despite the sheer fabric.
“Are the males wearing something similar?”
Kaira laughs. “I’m not telling you what the males wear.
You’ll need to see for yourself. But first, put on this dress so we can join the others.
The rebels have all returned before you, and all of the camps they visited are ready to change course.
Unless you bring bad news, we do have more than one reason to celebrate. ”
Her enthusiasm is infectious, so I do as I’m told. I grab the dress and head for my own bedroom where I strip out of my leathers and take a shower before I pull on the dress Kaira picked for me.
When I look at the mirror, at first, all I can see is lace.
From my neck to my toes, I’m covered in black lace.
But as I look closer, patterns form like they did on Kaira’s dress.
It’s not flames, though, it’s feathers. While most of the fabric is see-through, feathers are woven into the areas around my breasts and my hips where the fabric sweeps into an A-line skirt.
But that’s not all. As I look closer, whorls of dark smoke embroidered into the fabric mingle with single feathers, merging into a dance of black lines between thousands of tiny crystals.
I don’t need to think about what they represent, because my Crow power surges to my palm, flittering and glimmering like little stars the way the crystals do on my dress.
“Beautiful,” Kaira notes when I return to her bedroom minutes of marveling later.
“I knew this would be perfect for you.” She ushers me to a chair and digs through a wooden box of cosmetics, dabbing pink on my cheeks and lips and drawing kohl along my lashes before making quick work of my hair. “A masterpiece.”
I barely dare ask, but—“What exactly are we expected to do tonight?” I glance at the mirror above the sideboard by the mahogany armoire and find a creature of wonder staring back at me.
Kaira shrugs. “As I said: dance, celebrate, enjoy. The more positive energy fills the air around the bonfire, the better for the ritual.”
“And what exactly is that ritual?”
Again, Kaira shrugs. “At the end of the night, we walk through the fire, commending our mortal lives to it and begging it for many more decades to come.”
As she reads the shock on my face—real shock this time—she adds, “Don’t worry, only the Flames do that. You’d burn alive. Besides, you’re already immortal. ”
“And the humans? They have seen a lot, but I’m not sure they can stomach seeing you step into the fire and potentially go up in flames.” I’ve seen Fire Fairies on the battlefield handle their own fireballs like it’s nothing, seen Kaira do the same, but that was magic. The bonfire is different.
Kaira laughs. “Flames are more resistant to fire than any other known life form, Ayna. Don’t worry. And during this night, the Guardians grant us more power than any other night of the year. I’ve done this many times. I’ll be fine.”
I open my mouth to object, but she cuts me off. “If things go wrong, Clio can always freeze the fire over.”
“Then I guess I’ll need to trust what you’re doing.” Hard as it may be, I need to support Kaira and not try to question how she believes I might have survived that ritual when I was still in my bird form.
“I would have gone into the fire with you and protected you,” she answers my thought in my mind. “Or I’d have begged the Guardians to bestow those decades upon you and Myron instead of me.”
How she slipped into my mind, I don’t care. She’s my sister, and she was willing to sacrifice her own chance at asking the Guardians for a long Flame life to help me get what I needed.
“Thank you,” I whisper, taking and squeezing her hand, but Kaira shakes her head.
“It doesn’t matter now. You’re immortal, and so is Myron. All of this court is, so I’ll beg the Guardians to make sure I’ll stick around long enough to exasperate all of you a while longer. ”
She laughs through the sheen of moisture covering her eyes, and I smile right back at her.
“And I’ll beg right along with you.”
The sound of drums, lutes, and flutes carried on a smoke-laced breeze greets us as we enter the garden a few minutes and a long embrace later.
Rogue and Sanja stand by the fire, his arms wrapped around her form from behind, hands resting on her belly.
They are in deep conversation with Royad, Clio, and Tori, probably discussing what happened on the trip to the rebel camps.
Good. If Clio gives them the news about the last camp we visited, I won’t need to spend time explaining.
On the square granite block featuring a statue of a female and a male in an intimate posture, Silas and Herinor sit, seemingly unaware the male’s naked butt is only a few inches from their faces.
Silas lifts a hand to wave at me, and I return the gesture, grinning at him while Herinor is beckoning for me to go to the other side of the fire.
All of them wear cloaks on top of whatever Kaira chose for them, and I try not to let my thoughts run wild.
Especially when I do as Herinor suggested and spot Myron and the rebels standing a few feet to the side, listening while Andraya animatedly gesticulates in the air as she speaks.
A smile lingers on Myron’s lips like he forgot to put on the facade of the serious king he’s perfected, and the sight of him takes my breath away.
Bronze and golden reflections of firelight dance in his hair, the length of his cloak swaying on a breeze, revealing his black boots and a hint of leather pants.
My heart stutters as he stops whatever he was about to respond to Andraya and glances at me.
His eyes are two glimmering stars defying the night. He murmurs an apology to the rebels, already walking toward me, one arm extended. “I was worried you ran into trouble again.” He stops a pace from me, brushing back my hair and cradling my cheek as he places a tender kiss on my mouth.
We’ve been put through the wringer by fate, losing and finding each other more often than I care to count, yet this simple gesture nearly brings me to tears.
“Troubles? Never with Clio at my side,” I huff, throwing my arms around him and burying my face in his shoulder.
Myron chuckles into my hair. “Well, that’s a surprise. Clio is the definition of trouble.”