Page 25 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
I could stand here forever, just breathing in his scent and listening to his heartbeat, to the rumble of his voice, to relish his warmth, but Kaira calls us, and if there is one thing I’m set on doing tonight, it is enjoying this brief moment of reprieve in a war that will likely destroy all of us.
So I take Myron by the hand and lead him toward the fire where Kaira is already swaying with the rhythm.
A few feet away, Tori is dragging Clio to what seems to have become our dance floor for the night, tugging her into a spin before she clashes with his chest with a protest, and he wraps one arm around her waist, kissing the tip of her nose, mischief sparking in his eyes.
Royad, Rogue, and Sanja perch on the edge of another granite statue, this one showing three hoofed and horned fairies playing the flute, lute, and drum, and two winged fairies swirling in a dance.
I wonder if the statue is where the music comes from since we’re the only ones in this garden.
With a smile, the Fairy King inclines his head at me.
“Enjoy the dance, Crow Queen.” His voice is by my ear, his lips moving as he sends his words on a dark breeze, that unique power of his I have yet to fully understand.
I nod back at him, taking Myron’s hand and guiding him closer to the fire where he grips my waist with both hands and spins us to the music with surprising sureness.
With every move, we melt into the music, the firelight painting our shadows onto the frozen ground.
Myron’s steps never falter, and I feel myself getting drunk from the unbound joy streaming through both of us in our bond.
“You are full of surprises,” I laugh as he lifts me in a half circle, tipping back his head and gazing up at me with a wildness I’ve never seen before.
Somewhere in the background, Ed and Gabrilla’s laughs pierce through the music as they hop by, holding each other by the hand while Rochus grumbles something that makes me think he wasn’t entirely willing when they dragged him along.
But once they are moving for a minute, even the reluctant rebel’s laugh joins in the mingle of voices.
Silas and Herinor are now standing with Rogue and Sanja, apparently looking for an excuse not to have to participate in the whole dancing part of the celebrations.
“Come on!” Kaira shouts over the music. She is halfway around the fire, grabbing Rochus’s hand and hopping along after the rebels.
Andraya and Pouly are spinning and turning with surprising grace despite the poor footing on the frosty ground, both their faces alive.
Andraya’s cloak is billowing out behind her, revealing traces of a silk and satin gown in marine blue.
Swaths of embroidered waves cover up most of her body, her gown less sheer than Kaira’s or mine with only small parts of lace along her neckline and at the side of her hips.
It’s beautiful, as is she with her unbound grizzled hair and her deep blue eyes.
Pouly must think the same thing because he can’t seem to look away.
I hide a knowing smile as we pass Kaira and the three rebels.
“It seems these two are finally making progress.” Myron has made his own observations. “I’ve been waiting for something to happen since the days we spent together in that cave on our way to Aceleau.”
He spins us away, leaning closer to brush his mouth against my cheek, and I notice how hot it’s getting under my cloak. Sweat is building on my neck under the mass of my hair, and my cheeks are flushed.
I’d love to take off the thick woolen layer of fabric, but something tells me it isn’t time yet.
The next time we pass by the statue of the granite musicians, Rochus and Gabrilla have joined the royal fairy pair and the two Crow males.
They are deep in conversation, but Silas is eyeing the young woman from the side.
I could swear he is about to ask her to dance, but I know better than that.
At least, I think I do because, another circle around the fire later, Silas and Gabrilla are awkwardly swaying to the music ten feet away from the statue.
I’m not sure who’s in charge in their dance, but they seem stuck where they are with both of them trying to take the lead.
The way they look at each other makes me wonder if they’ll have it out with their blades any moment, but the heat in their eyes isn’t all anger.
Maybe it’s the night and the fire, maybe it’s something more, but when Silas lets go of Gabrilla’s hand to place it on her waist, too, a grin creeps onto the woman’s lips, their struggle over, and Silas leads her along with the music with surprising skill.
I don’t try to hold back my chuckle, simply letting it slip into the fire-lit night, and consider myself blessed that I get to see Silas move on from Tata. I never learned what was going on between them, but it was obviously something .
I don’t comment. Myron noticed them, too, and the secretive glance he gives me makes me wonder if he has something to do with this.
“Silas can be quite charming if he wants to,” is all he says to explain Gabrillas’s giggle at whatever Silas just said, and I love the lightheartedness of the sound.
Both the laugh and Myron’s tone. Our lives have been so dark and dire we almost forgot how to enjoy ourselves.
But this— this— is a reminder of what life should be like.
What it might one day be like again if we defeat Erina and Ephegos.
“Perhaps I should ask him for a dance later.” I wink at Myron. “Looks like he knows what he’s doing.”
Myron laughs, and the sound—so bright and beautiful—pierces right into my heart.
“He certainly has more experience, considering he learned how to dance centuries before I was even born. I’m not sure Gabrilla will want to share, though.
” He lowers his head until his mouth is at my ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin at the slight point.
“I most certainly have no intentions of sharing you. ”
He slows our pace, moving his hands from my waist to beneath my cloak, the front flapping open and revealing my dress. Myron doesn’t glance down, though, his eyes lingering on mine as his fingers dig into my hips and he spins us around in circles until we’re both panting and laughing.