Page 32 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)

Twenty-Two

Ayna

My palms turn sweaty at the sight of the king and the Crow who have tried to break me—almost succeeded if my recent near-beheading of Royad is anything to go by.

With a shaky hand, I grab Myron’s, needing to feel him as I stare and stare at what are clearly projections of the two people I hate most in this world.

“If you’ve come to gloat, you can turn right back to whatever hole you came from,” Clio spits at them with the force of the ice dancing at her fingertips like a flurry of death.

Like they were nothing but rocks inconveniently littering their path, it’s clear we can’t touch them with steel or magic.

“Gloat?” Ephegos purrs in the voice of the courtier I first met.

“I’d never gloat, Princess of Askarea.” He makes a mock bow before marching on until he stops ten good paces away, right next to the chopped-off head of one of his soldiers.

Erina glances down at the relic of what happened on this battlefield with disdain as he stops at Ephegos’s side.

“Pity.” He shakes his head. “These would have lasted a lot longer had we had the serum ready when we sent them on their way.”

No matter how cruel and unfeeling his words, they confirm we were right.

These poor bastards never stood a chance.

Ephegos dispatched them weeks ago, before the drug production was improved to a level that would have allowed them to equip all of the Tavrasian army with special armor and weapons—or even those vile vials they like to use these days to splash the drug right in our faces.

“Pity you’re not here in the flesh, or we could finish this here and now,” I spit at the man who still believes he has a claim to me and the one who made a deal with the god who’s supposed to watch over his creation.

Both of them laugh. “Clever little girl. You got away again. But don’t be fooled by our not coming after you. Us being here proves we know exactly where you are and what you’re up to.”

Myron’s so tense I think he might shatter, but he doesn’t interfere as I stand my ground, his belief in my ability to fight my own battles stronger than his instinct to protect me.

I wish I could say the same about me. My blood is pounding through my veins like a crimson river, heated with rage at the mere thought of the deal Ephegos made with Shaelak.

Ever since Shaelak spoke into my head again, I’ve spent a good portion of my time pondering that deal and how it might conflict with the one I made with Ephegos.

I promised to be Ephegos’s if he lets Myron live.

Shaelak promised to make me Ephegos’s if Ephegos manages to kill Myron.

My deal with the traitor Crow should protect Myron from the deal he made with Shaelak, but when it comes to bargains and the recent loopholes I found, I don’t trust anything.

All I know is that Myron and Ephegos can never get into the same room again, or they might rip each other to shreds—a risk I can’t take.

“And what am I up to?” I snarl at the male, holding his stare while my hand itches to drive the daggers tightly clasped within it right into his heart.

“Stay calm,” Kaira cautions in my mind, and thank the gods for my sister’s ability to sneak into my head at any given time. “Let them talk. We need to know where they are and what they are up to.”

“It’s about time they show their faces. It’s been too quiet on their end for my taste,” Tori enters the silent conversation. “Not that I appreciate them showing up merely to stalk over their fallen soldiers like birds of prey.”

“That should be our job,” Herinor notes as Kaira links all of us together with that brilliant ability of hers. “You know, since we are birds of prey.”

“Kind of,” Kaira corrects, and the four Crow males on our side collectively cock their heads with offense, the gesture almost making me laugh. “You know, since you eat winter berries just as well. And vegetable pie.”

Herinor shoots her a warning glance. It’s a small thing, but it catches Ephegos’s attention.

“Herinor.” A broad grin spreads on his face. “I’ve been wondering when I’d see you again.” He does actually look like he means it. “I’ve heard you were taken captive during battle and my men didn’t treat you with the adequate respect.”

A question resonates in his voice that he apparently doesn’t want to put into words, but I hear it anyway. An offer to return to Ephegos’s side should Herinor choose to abandon us.

“ I treated them with the adequate respect ,” he replies in a tone so dark it makes me shudder.

“So I’ve heard.” Ephegos takes a casual step closer, and like on a silent command, Myron, Royad, and Silas step closer to my sides, Myron’s shoulder half in front of me.

Herinor’s arm twitches toward Kaira, but he holds himself in place, unwilling to let Ephegos see what is dear to him and handing him even more power.

“Tell me, Herinor, has your time at Myron’s court been satisfactory? Have you learned anything of use?”

Herinor doesn’t speak. He doesn’t deny it with a shake of his head either, unable to lie.

“No,” Kaira hisses into our minds.

I realize what she means a moment before Ephegos sheathes his sword and laces his fingers together in a harmless, philosophical manner and prompts, “Tell me, what has the King of Askarea been up to? ”

“Don’t you dare speak a word, Herinor.” Kaira doesn’t bother to lock the rest of us out of her head as she warns the only person Ephegos could command to spill all our secrets.

“I’m not planning to.” Herinor’s face turns to stone, his eyes glinting with all the hatred I’ve sensed in our conversations about Ephegos, the resentment for what he’s been tricked into—or for himself for allowing Ephegos to talk him into a bargain he knew from the beginning would be his demise.

“Good,” Clio cuts in. “Because I’d have no problem freezing your ass to prevent you from spilling anything my brother is up to. Including his most precious secret that you’ve been let in on.”

The pregnancy.

“Tata knows about Sanja’s condition,” I throw into our silent channel. “She might have already informed Ephegos.”

“I’m not sure she’d do that, considering she was ready to get Sanja out of harm’s way should it come to a battle at Aceleau.” Surprisingly, Myron sounds convinced.

“Just because she’s willing to save someone, doesn’t mean she won’t tell on them first,” Silas points out, and he doesn’t sound convinced at all. After all, there was something between him and Tata before we found out that she was feeding Ephegos information.

“Can you all shut up for a moment?” Herinor grumbles into the mind link. “I’m trying to find a way around his order.”

“Herinor?” Tapping his toes into a puddle of blood without ever touching it, the traitor Crow pins Herinor with a look.

“The Fairy King has given excellent dinner parties,” Herinor drawls with more bravado than I could ever muster under the pressure of risking more than just my life by potentially breaking a bargain.

“Dinner parties?” Erina prompts, and he doesn’t appear half as amused as Ephegos does as he mulls Herinor’s words over.

The King of Tavras takes a few steps closer, his finger in Herinor’s face the way he’d never dare were the Crow truly in front of him. Herinor doesn’t as much as flinch.

“He also hosted fabulous Solstice celebrations last night. Haven’t enjoyed myself this much since before the curse was placed upon our miserable people.”

I’m not sure I imagine the way his attention moves half to Kaira, who’s glancing at him with a hint of disbelief.

“Not a lie,” he amends through the mind link, and Kaira’s cheeks flush.

“Unless anything of substance for this war was spoken during those parties, I don’t care if Recienne of Askarea dances naked around a bonfire.

” The projection of Erina’s blade is at Herinor’s throat, and much as the knowledge that this isn’t real reassures me, the picture of the false king threatening one of my own drives a whole new level of anger and fear through my veins.

Clio throws a chime-like chuckle into the freezing air, shifting her weight and sticking out one hip as she impersonates the image of an unbothered warrior who has nothing to fear.

“The King of Askarea dancing naked around a fire would show the world more substance than any of you human males could ever consider themselves blessed with.”

“I hate when you speak about your brother like that,” Tori murmurs into the mind link. “Now I can’t get the image out of my head. ”

“He is well endowed,” Clio replies with a shrug. “And since Erina is taking his dick out to measure, we’ll very well let him know he doesn’t stand a chance.”

Tori grimaces, but I’m no longer paying attention. Erina has directed his attention away from Herinor at me instead.

“You look different, Ayna,” he notes with that calm and calculated way of his I’ve despised so many times when he laid out his plans for me. “Not bad, just different. The ears are a bit disturbing, but you’ll still make for a pretty bride.”

This time, Myron doesn’t keep a grasp on his temper. “You better watch your mouth before I fill it with my power and rip you apart from the inside.” He means it, too. If only Erina was truly here, Myron would have shredded the King of Tavras, and all our problems would be solved.

“Most of them,” Royad corrects through the mind link, and I notice the smirk on Ephegos’s face as he watches us struggle to keep our control—especially since there is nothing we can do than to try to trick them into spilling some secrets of their own.

“We’d still have Ephegos to deal with. And if Erina dies now, the traitor Crow would surely take your kingdom for himself, and all that would do is a fast forward to what he’s planned for after Erina’s rule ends. ”

I hate that he’s right, and even more than that, I hate the sense of helplessness creeping up on me, reminding me of those weeks at the palace in Meer, of being dragged back to Erina in Ephegos’s carriage mere days ago, of the knowledge that they could hurt me any time they wanted and that they loved playing with my fear .

Never again. It’s a promise I make to myself as I step out from behind Myron’s shoulder, straight through the King of Tavras’s projection.

The man’s image ripples like the surface of a pond when a rock is thrown into its still waters, and for a moment, I can feel the warm sensation of a fire heating my side.

When I spin around and face Erina again, the glow of flames tints one side of him in light hues of orange.

“I don’t know what you think will happen, Erina”—I stalk around him, watching him turn on the spot as I circle him like a shark does its prey—“but I like my men a bit more durable. You know, being immortal myself now.”

I throw a pointed glance at Ephegos, who has put on a cruel grin that speaks of what he’s interpreting into my words.

In my mind, I reach out to Clio. “Wherever Erina is, there’s a fireplace next to him. He must be in some building. Not out in the open.”

“What are you saying, Ayna?” Royad prompts, but I focus on the details on Erina’s face. The shadows on his chest that can’t be from this reality but from the place his physical form is located.

“I’m saying I need more time to figure out where he is. If I can get a clear picture, maybe we can ? —”

“No.” Myron interrupts with such authority I almost forget what I was planning to begin with. “You can’t.”

“I can.” I remember my plan, letting it float into the mind link for all of them to read and help. Any detail we pick up might make a difference in how fast we can end this war.

A flare of panic hits me through the mating bond, and though I don’t like how Myron is inclined to shut down my plan, I know I’d react the same way if he’d spring the idea on me.

“They are only taunting us like this because they feel safe,” I think at the others while, out loud, I hop back into the conversation with Erina.

“Nothing against kings , though. You know, since I’m a queen myself.

And the sad thing is, ruling Tavras at your side wouldn’t be that unthinkable of a fate if you’d courted me like a well-mannered monarch rather than locking me up in a cell.

I might have agreed.” I watch his eyes go wide and wider as he comes to terms with what I’m suggesting.

Through the bond, Myron’s objections are loud and clear, stirring the black smoke that settles in my tissues until the rich taste fills my mouth.

“Calm down, Myron.” Royad’s gentle warning sounds through our minds as the Crow general steps even closer to his king’s side, ready to react should Myron do something rash.

“Courted…” Erina muses. “I doubt you’d ever have considered marrying me after what happened to your useless father.” He spits the words at me, brown irises sparkling with the glow of the fire I can’t see.

Only, I can. As he tilts his head to better assess me from a few inches above, I catch a flash of a stone hearth set in a wooden wall. A small desk with a chair is positioned in the corner, leaving perhaps six feet of space to the fireplace.

I know it then—it’s now or never. If we miss this opportunity, we might never get our hands on Erina again.

We’ll need to strike fast and hard—go in, slash, and get out .

“Clio? Tori?” I prompt in my mind, pulling up my power as I relay that image to them. “Can you do it?”

The two fairies don’t respond with words.

Instead, they step between the rest of us, holding out both their arms for us all to grab onto.

“Ready your weapons,” Tori warns a heartbeat before I’m being pulled through the void between places, Myron’s silent curses echoing in my head and the fear of the gods pulling through my veins as the two fairies take us to Erina’s hideout.