Page 34 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
Twenty-Four
Myron
The winter morning tastes different in this part of Tavras, like brine and the memory of summer, but the air is as bitterly cold as in the north, even when here, the ground seems to not have frozen yet.
We don’t bother to be stealthy as we bolt out the door of the small inn where Erina has made his temporary home.
At least, there I haven’t spotted any sign of Ephegos.
If they were both in the same place, the traitor Crow was smart enough to run before Clio and Tori site-hopped us in.
Ayna was right to suggest it, even when my stomach still lies folded into knots while we scout around the lonely building standing at the fingertip of a long stripe of forest. If there are more soldiers around here, they haven’t left traces of their presence.
The ground isn’t trampled, and not one single tent stands in the protection of the trees.
Not even the cold embers of a dead fire.
“Where did they go?” Ayna runs at my side, her head swiveling from side to side, as she comes to the same conclusion as I do. As we all do.
“I can’t sense them through the mind link either,” Kaira notes, and I must admit, much as I believe in the Fairy Princess and general’s ability to defend themselves, unease is starting to grow at the thought that something might have happened to them.
“At least, we didn’t walk right into a trap this time,” Herinor grumbles to Silas who is idly flipping his hatchet in his hand as he scans the horizon for the outline of an army we might have missed.
“There’s still time.” Kaira rolls her eyes at Herinor’s comment, and I could swear the male flinches.
While the two of them seem to be ready to start bickering, Royad and Ayna assess the ground for the tracks Erina’s boots should have left in the soil.
“He can’t have dissolved into thin air.” Ayna’s silver power is still swirling around her daggers, a sight I won’t forget in a long time. So powerful, my mate, but her powers are as useless as mine when we can’t find the man we came to end.
“Maybe Clio and Tori got him and site-hopped him to Aceleau for questioning,” Kaira suggests, and much as I’d like to believe this is what happened, I can’t.
“They wouldn’t leave us behind without informing us.” I’m convinced of that, unless there was no other choice, and two fairies against one human isn’t really a fight. There is no way Erina could have gotten the best of them without help.
I turn around, eyeing the two-story building that has become the grave of ten Crows. Ten of my people. Ten of those who turned against me because I wasn’t able to break the curse sooner.
Sheathing one of her daggers, Ayna lays a hand on my arm. “If you’re looking for reasons to blame yourself for this situation, you can stop right there,” Ayna whispers, her gaze burning into me from the side.
Of course she reads me like an open book. Hiding anything from her has never worked.
“We should go back inside and search there,” Royad finally suggests. “There must be someone other than the innkeeper in this building.” He gestures at the plain wooden planks and beams holding the building together.
On our way outside, we didn’t run into anyone other than the gray-haired man behind the long, curved counter, wiping earthen mugs and stacking them on the tall wooden shelf against the wall.
He eyed us curiously but didn’t say anything when we sped past him.
The rest of the room, large enough for six crooked tables, was empty without signs of anyone having recently occupied them, no dishes, no chair out of place.
Closing my eyes, I listen for sounds from inside the building, but all I hear is the wind singing in the trees and the frantic beat of Ayna’s heart weaving into the tapestry of morning birds and an owl who seems to have missed its bedtime .
“They aren’t out here, so they have to be inside,” Herinor concludes for all of us, earning a nod from Kaira.
“Maybe they purposefully shut me out of their heads so they can focus on whatever they are doing.”
Ayna nods at her sister. “Let’s search the building.”
So we do.
As expected, the ground floor is empty except for the man still working behind the counter.
Instead of heading back up the narrow stairs left of the entrance, I stop at the counter, placing my sword in plain view on the worn wooden surface but keeping it in a non-threatening position. He ’s not the enemy here.
The man stares at me with cool gray eyes, raising a bushy brow as he waits for me to state a question or a threat—something tells me the latter is more what he expects.
“Have you seen a man in gray leathers?” My tone is gravelly, urgent, but the sight of Ayna at the foot of the stairs helps me keep enough control not to let the monster slip into my face.
For now, my vision doesn’t darken, and my onyx power remains where it has retreated to after Ayna gave the order to kill the Crow prisoner.
I still don’t know how I feel about that.
She shouldn’t have had to make that choice.
“Not recently. And if you’re asking about a specific man, I couldn’t give you any information.” Picking up another mug, the man keeps at his task.
“How many guests do you have at the moment?” Ayna asks on her way to my side. She hides her dagger beneath the counter to spare the man a heart attack at the sight of such magic, but something tells me this wouldn’t be the first time he’s come face to face with the silver power only Crows possess.
“None of your business is how many guests I have,” the man says in a rough tone that makes me want to smack him. We don’t have time to play any games. If Clio and Tori are in trouble, every minute counts.
I’m about to ask him how much the King of Tavras paid him to hold his tongue, when Herinor appears on my other side, reaching over the counter and dragging the man against the wooden barrier by the collar.
The inn owner struggles against Herinor’s grasp, grunting and whimpering as the male pulls a knife from a strap on his bicep and points it at his throat.
“Answer,” Herinor hisses.
The man’s fear fills my nose, tuning out the smell of stale ale and soap water. “Twenty,” he grits out, glancing up at Herinor and me from the corner of his eye as best as he can with his cheek pressed against the top of the counter.
“Go,” I think at the others, relying on the mind link Kaira hopefully has kept established while we were taking a look outside.
“On it.” Royad and Silas move from their spot on the threshold, climbing the stairs on silent feet, Kaira right behind them.
“Be careful,” Ayna calls after them in her mind, and when I glance at her, the worry shows on her features.
With a slender hand, she brushes her near-white braid back and clears her expression of all emotions.
“You’re saying twenty? Not more?” Herinor verifies, earning a small, panicked nod from the man .
“Enough?” the male prompts in my mind, and I decide it has to be enough. If ten more Crows or Flames are waiting up there to ambush the others, we can’t leave anything to chance.
So I incline my head at Herinor, and the male shoves the old man off the counter, watching him sag to the floor. Ayna twitches like she’s about to lean over the counter to check on him, but?—
“He’ll be all right,” I tell her, already heading to the stairs.
Herinor and Ayna follow me up to the first floor, weapons at the ready and feet as silent as only those of immortals can be.
“Have you found anything?” Ayna prompts into the mind link, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for the others to share what horrors they’ve found.
“They’re here.” Kaira’s breathless tone lets me assume the worst even when she hasn’t specified who exactly they found.
“The soldiers?” Ayna wants to know.
We make it to the top of the stairs where the hallway spreads to both sides, each with a couple of doors with numbers carved into the shabby wood.
The one closest to the stairs stands open, revealing the view on the Crows we slayed mere minutes ago.
I try not to pay attention to the guilt swelling in my stomach and listen for sounds of combat.
“Tori and Clio,” Royad responds. As if he knows what I’m about to ask, he adds, “We’re in the last room to the right.”
Ayna is already on her way past me, both daggers in her hands and a silver shield shimmering around her, heading straight for the others.
I’m right behind her, Herinor bringing up the rear, but the inn is so quiet I can’t make out anything other than our beating hearts and the occasional creaking of the wooden structure surrounding us.
Before I can ask if there are any soldiers in that room with them, Ayna pushes the door open with a battle cry, revealing a small bedroom with an empty hearth and a broad double bed against the wall opposite the door.
No Tavrasian soldiers or Crows or Flames are awaiting us.
Instead, Kaira, Royad, and Silas are bent over the bed where Clio and Tori’s bodies lay sprawled in a way that makes me think for a horrifying breath that they’re dead.
“Fuck—” Herinor starts, but Clio shifts her arm, reaching for Tori, who seems to be out cold but alive.
“What happened?” Ayna beats me to it, already kneeling beside the bed and brushing back Clio’s hair where it came free from her braid.
“They were like this when we came in,” Royad explains, patting Tori’s cheek.
“Drug,” Tori groans, opening his eyes and rolling his head to check on Clio. When he finds the female next to him, he sighs and tries to sit up.
Royad helps him while Kaira and Ayna stabilize Clio, who has rolled to her side and is attempting to get to her feet. “They used the drug on us.” The princess’s voice is weak, but she is coherent.
“Must have been a strong dosage if it knocked you out like that,” Herinor muses. He’s taken up post by the door, half his attention on the quiet hallway.