Page 38 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)

Twenty-Seven

Ayna

Five more. That’s one for each of them, while I fight to remain on my feet.

Myron and Royad are at my side in an instant, blocking any opponent from coming at me, but the Crows aren’t focusing their attention on us the way I expected. They aren’t stalking toward us with their blades drawn and their magic at the ready.

Instead, only two of them remain close to us, throwing up a shield thick enough to make the glimmering silver impossible to see through.

“What’s happening?” Kaira’s voice sounds like she’s speaking through the pipes of the building, distorted, metallic, too far away.

And with her fading voice, the mind link disappears, cutting her and Herinor off.

“Kaira!” I shout into the collapsing connection, begging the gods for help, and when she doesn’t answer, I use my corporeal voice. “KAIRA!”

Not a single sound penetrates the silver wall from the other side.

Fuck!

“What’s happening?” I place my hand on my injured shoulder, keeping the thin trickle of healing power in flow while I wait for Myron’s assessment.

“They have combined all their shields.” Myron slings his arm around my waist, stabilizing me while I gradually heal myself. The reason why he isn’t helping me with his power, I don’t even want to consider.

“It’s an ancient technique.” Silas dares two steps toward the silver wall but doesn’t get close enough to accidentally touch it. Behind it, the outlines of the two Crows closest to us shift an inch. “I haven’t seen it done since before the curse.”

I’m not sure what to make of the awe in his tone.

As if sensing that, he turns toward me. “It takes some seriously powerful Crows to pull this off.”

“At least, now we know what we’re dealing with,” Royad comments.

Myron cocks his head, sweat-drenched, black strands falling into his face. “Would you please explain while the rest of us try to come up with a plan to save Kaira and Herinor?”

The darkness dripping from his fingers where he gestures at the shield says it all.

Ignoring Myron’s quip, Royad continues, “Ephegos must have sent some of his strongest Crows. Whoever got help told Ephegos we’re all here.”

I roll over his words in my mind, trying to suppress the panic rising at the thought of what is happening to Kaira and Herinor on the other side of that shimmering wall.

“Why didn’t he come himself? And more importantly, what are we going to do about this?

” With a wince, I gesture at the shield with my arm attached to the injured shoulder.

It functions well enough not to spill blood at the next best movement, but I can’t in good conscience fight another battle with it.

Myron’s hand wanders up my back to cover the gashes on my back, and his healing power filters into my tissue, sealing the worst of what’s left of my injuries there.

A glance at his thigh confirms he’s no longer bleeding.

“The rest of them flew here. Ephegos is slower without his wings. He needs to run the entire way—however far away that is.” Myron’s tone drives a shiver down my spine.

Not only mine, it seems, because Silas shudders, too. “We need to get out of here before he catches up.”

I’m not the only one whose hand grasps their weapon harder at the thought. “He might bring more Crows. Or Flames.” I inch toward the shield separating us from Herinor and my sister. “We need to get them out of there. ”

“Doesn’t matter what he brings.” Royad shakes his head. “If he gets to us in this state”—he gestures at himself, at the way he has trouble putting weight on his left leg—“we’re done.”

“We can’t leave them behind.” Not saying any of them would consider leaving Kaira and Herinor behind, but I need to say it anyway.

“Nobody is leaving them behind.” Silas is pacing the length of the shield—a solid three paces, the width of the hallway—his hatchet at the ready as he inspects every inch for flaws. “It’s perfect from floor to ceiling.”

I roll my eyes. “You can laureate them for their achievements after we take their heads off.” Untangling from Myron’s arm, I join Silas with his inspections. “What are we looking for?”

Silas doesn’t look away from the shield. “Something small. Not a hole but an inconsistency, an alteration in color or density.”

Royad and Myron are at our sides in an instant, eyeing the shield with the focus of falcons, even when they are Crows, but there’s nothing.

Not one single flaw. The color is consistent, near-solid, luminescent silver, unwavering when I probe it with my own power.

It doesn’t react to Myron’s black smoke either, nor to the plank of wood I tear from the handrail at the top of the stairs and hurl at it to test what happens at physical touch.

We all duck, throwing up fresh shields of our own, as the wood first splinters then pulverizes.

“We’re not getting through this wall,” Silas concludes after what can’t be longer than half a minute but feels like an eternity .

I’m trying not to let panic take my rational senses. We’re not trapped in here. We can get out. We just need to get to the other side. “We need to go around it.”

I don’t wait to explain, rather gesture for them to follow me as I bolt for the nearest room, break down the door with a kick of my boot, and almost fall into the window as I unlatch it and open it wide.

In a heartbeat, I’m in my Crow form, fluttering into the cold winter morning.

Myron, Royad, and Silas are right behind me, their wingbeats and rustling feathers informing me I won’t have to deal with what’s on the other side on my own.

None of them would ever let me walk into danger on my own if they could help it.

Just as I would never let anything happen to them.

We’re a court. A family. And family doesn’t leave family behind.

It’s what I tell myself when I fly up to the window of the room where Clio and Tori were knocked out by the serum. If we’re lucky, the shield wall doesn’t extend to this end of the building, and we can sneak in.

The window is inconspicuous with no sign of a Crow guard—no sign of Kaira and Herinor either.

And last of all, no sign from Clio and Tori.

The latter two, I’m grateful are not there, hopefully having found a safe spot on the premises where they can sit things out.

My stomach squirms at the mere thought of the power couple defenseless.

For a few heartbeats, I manage to hover mid-air, then I need to sail on before gravity pulls me into a tailspin. The others do the same, circling back to the inn with powerful beats of their shiny black wings .

If this window is anything like the one I just opened, my claws and beak won’t be of any use getting inside.

I need my fingers to pry it open or the pommel of my dagger— one dagger, because I dropped the other one in the hallway and failed to pick it up since I used my free hand to heal my shoulder.

I spy the ledge below the window, half-hidden by vines broken from boots searching their way down the wooden facade, a few wingbeats before I make it back to the wall.

This is the path Clio and Tori must have taken.

I can smell them almost as strong as if they were next to me.

“ Here,” I think. Not that anyone can hear me.

I shift in a flash, fingers latching onto the windowsill while my toes grapple for the ledge.

The impact is brutal, my teeth singing, and my kneecaps scream as they hit the wall mid-shift, but it’s the only way I can think of that won’t lose us time.

The stairs from downstairs are cut off by the shield; we’d simply end up in the same spot as before, and we don’t have the time to search for a balcony or a better place to perch.

Myron’s low caw of worry carries past me as he sails over my head, probably debating if he should follow my reckless choice and try to position himself on the narrow ledge.

I doubt it would hold his weight for long—especially with the ungentle impact. It would be like jumping onto it, and the old wood doesn’t seem stable enough to support us both anyway.

Shaking my head at all three males, I pull myself up until my elbows rest on the windowsill and I can breathe properly again. I’m not scared of falling; I could simply shift back into my bird form, but I’m afraid of wasting even a moment.

With less confidence than I feel, I lower one hand, panting against the strain of holding myself up with only one arm and the tips of my toes, and grope for the hilt of my dagger.

I almost sigh with relief when my fingers wrap around the familiar, smooth metal, and I thank Vala she hasn’t forsaken me because strength is returning to my limbs the same way they did when I fought the two Crows in the hallway.

I don’t hear her voice, but I can sense the ocean in my veins, the tossing waves carrying me, lifting me.

I don’t think of what might happen once the window has been shattered, only of what I might lose if I fail to do it.

So I push myself up another inch and jerk my arm back to take aim. With my next heartbeat, I let my dagger soar into the uneven glass.

Shards rain down the windowsill like a layer of ice crumbling under the weight of fresh snow.

With a thin shield, I keep the flow at bay so none of the sharp little pieces cut into my face or neck or even my hands as they stream past me where I hover, teeth gritted and waiting not so patiently for this to be over.

Only when no more glass is falling do I pull myself up and reach through the sharp-edged hole now gaping inside the window, and pull up the lever.

As the window swings open at the slightest of touches, an unfamiliar sense of victory fills my chest. Maybe it’s because it was my own idea and it worked.

Maybe, because no one got hurt in the process.

I don’t care, as long as I can climb into the room without cutting myself open, and Myron, Royad, and Silas flutter inside, shifting as they set their feet on the floor.

For a few heartbeats, we all keep still, listening intently to the silence from the hallway.

It’s too silent, with not one muffled footstep, whisper, or even a whimper.

Please no-please no-please no. My mind is already diving into about seven different scenarios of what might have gone wrong, that Kaira and Herinor might be dead, or that the Crows took them and this little detour was for nothing.

“Ayna?”

I almost jump at the sound of Kaira’s shaky voice filling my head.

She’s alive, thank the gods—even Shaelak, if I must.

“Kaira. Are you all right?”

My eyes find Myron’s, inquiring whether he heard her, too. All I get is a concerned glance that doesn’t tell me a thing about whether Kaira is only in my mind or in all of theirs.

“I’m here, Kaira. We’re all here, just a door away.” I’m telling myself I say that to reassure her when, in reality, it is to reassure myself that she’s within reach. “We’ll get you out of there. Both of you.”

I don’t make it a promise; I’ve learned my lesson.

“Ayna, run.” Kaira’s voice gets weaker with every syllable until I’m no longer sure she’s speaking at all.

If we don’t act now, we might be too late.

When I turn toward them, Silas and Royad share a nod before inclining their heads at Myron and me. They’re ready to attack whatever may await us behind that door .

“Ready,” I mouth, and Silas draws his hatchet, getting into position by the threshold. Myron and I stay where we are, a few paces from the door, so when Royad pulls it open, we can throw our magic right at whoever attacks us first.

Five Crows. If we’re lucky, Herinor and Kaira took care of at least two or three, and all we need to do is pick off the rest, and they’ll be safe.

The door swings open with a creak.

And reveals the view on a near-solid silver wall.