Page 47 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)

Thirty-Five

Herinor

“This can be fast and easy,” Ephegos purrs, sneer turning into a smirk as he perches on the edge of the table, “or this can be hard and painful. It’s entirely up to you, Herinor.” He braces a hand next to my hip, studying the gray shirt I’m wearing with professional assessment.

I know that look, have executed it myself too many times when I read the physique of someone I was supposed to torture answers out of. Whatever Ephegos sees paints a grin on his mouth, and he reaches for his belt to extract a knife I clearly identify as one they took from me.

“Which one is it going to be?”

Gritting my teeth against a physical blow, I growl, “Ask your questions, and we’ll see.”

Above my head, the corners of Frenius’s lips quirk, whether in amusement or anticipation of delivering said blow, I don’t want to know.

From his place beside me, Ephegos gets to his feet, slowly circling the table while he seems to be pondering which question to start with.

My stomach tightens with each passing heartbeat of silence, dread pooling in my veins, weighing down my limbs.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’m paralyzed with fear, but I do know better.

I know what it means to not be able to move because the body is physically unable, and this is not it. I’m afraid, yes, and not proud to admit it, but if I wanted to, I could move. I could pull up my magic and rip through the hold Ennis and Frenius have on me.

It’s a choice, I tell myself. You’re doing this for your court and for the annoying Flameling.

She’s anything but annoying, though the mere thought of her warms my blood, making the dread fade a little bit—until Ephegos stops next to me, right in the place he started his pacing, and leans over me to look me in the eye.

“How many troops does Askarea have at their disposal?”

I nearly laugh at the question, catching the sound before it can become more than a choked gargle.

“Shouldn’t Tata have filled you in about military specifics?” I bare my teeth in what should be a grin but feels more like a grimace .

Ephegos lifts an eyebrow, the knife twirling between his fingers as he lifts the hem of my shirt halfway up my abdomen.

“Are you sure that’s your answer?” He waits, his eyes never leaving mine as he wills me into submission.

“Last chance, Herinor. How many troops?” The tip of my own knife comes dangerously close to the skin right above my navel as Ephegos continues to wait.

This might be a test to see if my information lines up with what he’s learned from his spies. That doesn’t change how I feel about selling out my court, though.

“I’m not privy to the exact number of troops of the Askarean armies.

” Truth. I’m not. I did my best to not listen to specifics when I was present for military strategy sessions, and Myron did well tasking Royad with discussing details with Rogue and Astorian.

His cousin is the only Crow he’s always been able to fully trust. Even Silas was a danger to Ayna before the curse broke, willingly or not.

“I’m not asking what you’re privy to, Herinor. I don’t need an exact number.” His grin is as familiar as it is terrifying. “Give me your best guess.”

Sharp, hand-warm metal touches my skin, piercing the outer layer with such precision I am not sure I should marvel at Ephegos’s control or complain about the strong pain now shooting up my abdomen.

Keeping my breathing shallow so as not to move the blade further into my flesh, I give a brief nod. A guess. I can do that without revealing specifics. He already must know from whatever information Tata provided him.

Fifty thousand. It’s probably a wild overestimation.

I’ve never actually heard a number other than the tactical discussions of placing troops here or there to block Tavras’s path, but I’d rather overestimate and make him shit himself from fear than embolden him with lower counts.

So I double that number and give him my best guess—the best one to give him sleepless nights and question all his plans.

“A hundred thousand.” And, of course, I don’t say a word about the rebels.

Despite the warm hues of flickering candle light, I can see the color drain from Ephegos’s face.

“Does that diverge from the information Tata gave you?” I ask innocently, ignoring the pain in my abdomen where Ephegos’s knife has sunk a layer deeper, nicking my muscles.

My healing abilities are already pushing against it, breaking against the sharp steel like waves against a fractured cliff, getting nowhere.

“You do know Askarean fairies can lie ,” I say with a slight snark.

“Unlike our kind. Crows. ” I look him up and down with as much disdain as I dare without pushing him to stab right through my gut.

“You are still a Crow, Ephegos, right? Since you’re calling yourself the Emperor of Crows .

Or are you a Fire Fairy these days, or human, perhaps.

I’m getting confused with all the alliances you make. ”

Ephegos does stab me, but it’s not in my abdomen. Without a warning, he rips the knife from my flesh and drives it into my thigh, blade through the fabric of my pants, then my skin and muscles until it hits bone.

My scream fills the chamber to bursting, rattling my skull and making my teeth sing. Around my wrists and ankles, Ennis and Frenius tighten their grips, pinning me with bone-crushing force until I resort to panting through the agony .

“I thought you were smarter than that, Herinor.” Ephegos gives me a mild smile as he pulls the knife from my thigh and wipes it on my shirt.

Blood soaks my pants, dribbling onto the table from the gushing wound. If I were human, I’d bleed out within a minute, but I’m a Crow, and my healing powers snap into place on instinct, knitting blood vessels and muscles and skin back together until the wound is sealed.

Ephegos straightens from the table, continuing his pacing. “I am whatever I want to be, and it’s none of your concern, Herinor. You’re here to serve. You made an oath, and you will be loyal to me and me only.”

Like a searing hot chain, the magic of bargains tugs on me at Ephegos’s reminder.

“I’d hoped you won’t need as much motivation to get back on my side, but apparently, being around Myron and his pretty little mate has made you weak.”

I don’t object because, if I do, he’ll know that they are not the only ones bringing forward a softer side of myself, and I can’t have him know about what Kaira means to me, or he’ll destroy her the second she steps into his sight.

“Let’s try another question, shall we?” He stops in front of the door, turning his back to me as if I’m no longer worth his full attention.

I can totally live with that, as long as the knife stays well away from me, too.

“Ask away.” My voice is remarkably steady for the terror living in my chest. Whatever he asks, I can’t reveal any of our plans.

I can’t tell him about the rebels getting into position or that we have lots of vials filled with the magic-nullifying drug ready to use in battle.

I can’t tell him about Sanja and her pregnancy, that Cezux has been denying Askarea aid, that the western human territory is ripe for the taking if Tavras chooses to focus their efforts there.

“Where will Askarea attack?” He doesn’t move, neither do Ennis and Frenius, their features unreadable as they keep pinning me to the table with manacles of silver power in addition to their physical strength as if they know I’m debating fighting my way out of here.

“Who says Askarea will make the first move?” It’s a lame attempt at diversion, but it’s all I have.

So fast I shrink flat against the table, Ephegos spins around, his knife back on my stomach, and this time, the blade isn’t the only thing threatening to slice into me.

Ephegos’s hands have turned into claws, and the sharp tips are already digging into the side of my abdomen.

With one squeeze, he could tear out a chunk of my flesh and let my organs spill onto the table.

Great.

“Don’t answer questions with questions, Herinor.

It’s the first technique of diversion we learn as young Crows.

Don’t insult me by thinking I’d fall for such a basic tactic.

” He means it. And this time, his voice is shaking like he can barely restrain his anger.

“I tolerate a lot because I have the power to force the disobedient into submission, and for my allies, I have enough power to offer mutually beneficial bargains. You made a bargain with me. You swore an oath. You will obey me in words and deeds, or the magic of bargains will destroy you and all that’s dear to you. I won’t even need to lift a finger.”

This is not an empty threat. It’s the truth; the scaldingly hot chains tugging on my chest tell me as much.

Ephegos’s brown eyes spark with enough malice to make me consider shitting myself. “Again, where will Askarea make the first move?”

The chains tug harder on my chest as I try to defy the magic of bargains.

“Speak, Herinor.” It’s the last warning I’ll get, and I really, really want to live so I can see Kaira’s face again and tell her I love her.

So I speak. “South of Aceleau. The border. They know you’re coming. They know you’ve been focusing your attention there and that Tavras’s troops are gathering there.”

I hold my breath like that could suck the words back in or take the meaning out of what I just gave away.

With those few simple sentences, I took away the advantage Rogue and Myron have been working so hard to establish.

I’m the worst Crow in this world and don’t deserve to be a member of Myron’s court or to even look Ayna in the eye ever again.

Nausea swells in the pit of my stomach at what I just did.

I betrayed them. I promised them to be worthy of their court, yet I betrayed them at the first chance presented to me.