Page 40 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
“I’ll get you out of here, Kaira,” I whisper into her ear as I cross the room, searching for a side exit. There has to be something else besides the main entrance. There always is.
I’m halfway through the line of tables when I spot the subtle outline of a narrow door on the other side of the counter. If this is the kitchen, they hid it well .
There’s no time to ponder where it will lead as I rush toward it, twisting last moment to shoulder open the door the innkeeper obviously thought better sealed in our presence.
Soundlessly, the door moves out of the way, and I stumble into a large space that is definitely not a kitchen.
Heaps of straw are stacked along the walls between four stalls large enough to hold a horse each.
Buckets of oats and corn sit on one side of the room, next to a saddle rack.
The smell of horse sweat and fresh horse manure tells me someone must have recently left in a hurry, but I can’t remember the sound of horseshoes hammering along the ground outside, nor any whinny or huff or stomp inside the building.
There’s another scent mingling with that of horses. Ice and earth and iron.
I reel back to the door, shutting it as quietly as I possibly can, and blow out a slow breath.
“Astorian?” I whisper so softly I wonder if anyone could hear me even from a foot away. “Clio?”
Carefully, I progress into the room, peering over the frayed wood that makes up the stall walls, checking every corner. I even toe the haystacks to make sure I don’t miss them.
They were here. And now they’re gone.
Maybe it was them who took the horses and left. A bundle in one of the stalls tells me the innkeeper probably was planning to disappear himself. Poor man. He’s the last one to carry guilt in this situation, and he got nailed to a wall.
I don’t even want to think what Kabulakhi, Lebius, and Frenius will do to the rest of us, who obviously are guilty in their perception .
In the corner closest to the simple door leading from the stables, I lay Kaira down on a thick haystack, careful not to let her head bump into the wall as she rolls from my arms. The nausea is better and I can think more clearly, but I’m still weak and will not be able to do much without my magic.
“Herinor?”
I only notice Kaira has opened her eyes when she speaks my name.
“Shhh—” I hold a finger to her mouth. “You’ll let them know where we went.”
“Where did we go?” She lowers her voice into a whisper that makes me wish she was telling me sweet little nothings instead.
“Stables. Clio and Astorian were here, too. I can smell them.” I point toward the stalls, then the door. “I don’t know where they went, but they must have taken the horses.”
Kaira blinks a few times as if trying to focus. “Where are the others?”
“Fighting upstairs.” I try not to let the guilt in my chest consume me. “Three of Ephegos’s Crows against Ayna, Myron, Royad, and Silas.”
Kaira sucks in a breath. “Four against three. And four of the most powerful Crows in existence,” she huffs.
“Is that hope?” I try not to mock her because her hope means everything to me.
“If they don’t trap them with the magic-nullifying serum and ship them off to Ephegos, I dare hope.” She pauses for a long breath while her stomach gurgles a dreadful melody. “I thought we’d all die up there. ”
I cock my head, pulling up what I hope is a reassuring smile. “We might still all die. Up there or down here. Or out there.”
Kaira playfully swats my bicep, but her expression is serious. “We need to help them.”
A deep sigh flows from my lungs. “I know. But you’re in no condition to do anything but rest and feel better. And even if I can stand up straight, without our magic, we’re both useless.” It’s a sad fact I need to accept.
It’s also a loophole I hadn’t considered.
My mind twists into a spiral of thoughts as I reach for my sword, ready to turn on my heels and run back up the stairs.
“What?” Kaira prompts, her chocolate eyes drilling into mine.
I shake my head.
“I know what you’re thinking, Herinor. My mind reading might not work properly right now, but I know you well enough to tell when you’re up to something.”
“I’m up to nothing,” I tell her with what I believe is a smile but could very well be a grimace. Because it’s the truth. I’m up to nothing because I’m no good for anything without my powers and with my weakened body. So I can’t actually help anyone. Especially not Ayna.
That doesn’t stop me from dropping a kiss on Kaira’s forehead before bolting for the door to the inn. “Stay here,” I hiss at her before I pull the hidden door open and slip from the room to not help anyone because I’m useless.
Doesn’t mean I can’t be there to put myself in someone’s path if the opportunity presents itself .
The smugness lasts until I’m at the top of the stairs and Silas’s grunts of pain fill the hallway. One of the Crows must have landed a blow.
They need to get out of there—all of them.
On silent feet, I sneak up to the corner, spying into the hallway.
As the noise let me expect, they are still fighting. My heart makes a small leap when I count seven figures—three in Tavras’s nondescript gray armor and four familiar Crows in leathers borrowed from the fairy court.
Myron is bleeding from his shoulder, Silas features a cut along his jaw, and Royad is fighting with the wrong arm, his usual sword arm hanging loosely at his side.
Ayna seems to be the only one who’s uninjured.
Then, the three males keep blocking her path into battle effectively by taking on the three traitor Crows over and over again.
A silver spark is flying through the hallway every other moment, like a reminder they are all magical creatures, yet none of them truly hits, and if they do, the effect is minor—a scratch in the opponent’s armor, a singe on the neck or a temporary slowing of an enemy blade.
No one is winning because of it—no one’s losing either.
It seems Kabulakhi, Lebius, and Frenius depleted most of their reserves with the massive shield.
My court was already in bad shape before returning to fight, so I’m not surprised they’re having issues controlling what’s left of their powers.
They are at an impasse, and eventually, whoever has the most stamina will survive this.
A glance at Myron’s quivering muscles and Ayna’s slowing movements tells me it’s not us.
With a heavy heart, I declare this the perfect moment to make my entrance.