Page 53 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)

Thirty-Nine

Myron

The winter night is colder out here than I’d expected with the large army camp expanding along the plains, countless little fires scattered between our temporary residences.

The rattling of pots, boots hitting the frozen ground, and the sound of metal gliding over whetting stones creates the backdrop symphony to our arrival.

Conversations are hushed, and I haven’t heard a single laugh in the vicinity, even where groups of soldiers stand around the fire, the pending battle hanging over all our heads like a sword of doom.

Next to me, Clio and Royad are studying the casual business of the camp as the last tents are being erected, and new troops arrive on foot or site-hopping in.

I’ve even seen a few wiry fairies with antlers who remind me a lot of the forest fairies who fought at Rogue’s side in the last war.

Their ability to shift into deer—deer with sharp teeth that can bite a chunk out of you—disconcerts me mildly, but this time, we’re on the same side.

“This is your tent.” Clio points at the construction to my left—a rectangle tent made of heavy brown fabric.

A black flag with a silver crow embroidered at the center is flapping in the wind.

I haven’t seen this banner since the last Crow War, and I hadn’t expected to ever see it again since the Fire Fairies burned down whatever was left of our things in the ruins of the palace we used to call our home.

When she catches me staring at the banner, she squeezes my forearm. “Rogue had it made for you, a little reminder that you aren’t fighting under his banner but under your own. You are fighting for your realm and your future as much as ours.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow the tears burning behind my eyes.

“Please tell him I am grateful and that it doesn’t matter.

I would have fought to preserve his kingdom even if there was no chance to save my own.

” Because that’s the kind of male he is—one who deserves my loyalty even after the wars we’ve fought against each other.

“Tell him yourself.” Clio winks at me before disappearing to pick up Kaira and Silas after delivering Royad and me to the camp.

I barely have the time to turn around when Rogue’s deep timbre carries on the frosty air. “Do you like it? ”

Inclining my head, I gesture at the banner a foot over our heads. “It’s a beautiful gesture, thank you.”

Rogue mimics my nod. “It will be an honor to walk into this battle with you, King Myron.”

My chest constricts at what the tentative goodbye in his words imply. “You’re not expecting to survive tomorrow?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t ask, because the answer is something I don’t need to know and won’t help anyone. It won’t change what Ephegos throws our way tomorrow or who of us will walk off the killing field in the end.

“If I don’t survive, I’d rather you know I consider our alliance a blessing and that I have found a true friend in you, Myron.

” I’m about to tell him I agree, that the past weeks have proven that it’s possible to overcome the worst of conflicts if all parties put their efforts in, but that this has been more than an alliance, that I, too, consider him a friend—but Rogue cuts me off.

“If I die in this battle—if Clio and Tori don’t make it out alive—promise me you’ll take care of Sanja.

Wherever you go after this war ends, take her with you, and give her a home.

Give our child a home where it can grow up in safety.

And tell them I love them both—until the stars cease to shine, and even in the darkness that follows, I’ll love them. ”

There are no words that could express what I feel at the trust he places in me by coming to me with such a request, so all I do is dip my chin again, holding out a hand to seal this promise.

He grasps it with both of his, squeezing tightly as I give myself to the magic of bargains and promises and the thread connecting us all in our debts to each other spools in and out of me in a familiar gut-wrenching sensation. Rogue’s eyes glimmer bright gold in the light of the nearby fire.

“See you on the other side,” he says to both Royad and me as he lets go and walks away, disappearing between the tents, and I start wondering if I should have asked Rogue to return the favor and look out for Ayna if I don’t make it through the pending battle.

“It won’t come to that,” my cousin says as if reading my mind. “Ayna will never allow any of us to tell her where to go or what to do if you die on us. She’ll probably battle the gods themselves to bring you back, and knowing her, she’ll succeed.”

His statement is supposed to be humorous, but a flicker of truth reverberates within it.

“Ayna should be here any moment.” Tori pops up a few feet away, dropping off a group of soldiers by the fire.

His leathers are reinforced with metal pieces at his shoulders, elbows, shins, and wrists.

Two swords and several knives are attached to his belt, and a bow dangles over his shoulder alongside a quiver.

“Magic-nullifying arrows,” he tells me when he catches me looking. “Clio will be bringing a supply for each of you. The healers are making more.”

“More?” Silas prompts as he pops up with Clio and Kaira in front of my tent. “Does that mean they managed to produce more of the drug?”

Kaira shakes her head. “Unfortunately not. It seems they can’t replicate it, even with my blood in the mix. ”

Bad news. More and more bad news. The timeline being only one of them.

“They are focusing their efforts on developing an antidote, but chances are slim they’ll find a solution by the time we’ll be hit with the drug—and we will,” Tori says, the general informing us of our odds in this battle.

“And when it happens, we can’t rely on anything but our weapons and our wit.

” The warning in his words rings through me, summoning memories of battles past. I’ve seen the fairy general fight on a real battlefield, have seen what he’s capable of when using his magic.

I’ve been on the receiving end of his powers and his steel.

I’ve fought at his side, too, and I’m glad he’ll be leading Askarea’s armies. If anyone can do it, it’s him.

“To weapons and wit.” Silas pulls a small, metal flask from his pocket, uncorks it, and raises it before taking a sip of whatever is inside. With a grimace, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and passes the flask to me.

“To weapons and wit,” I repeat, taking a drink of the spiced liquor before passing it on to Tori. The alcohol burns down my throat, leaving a trail of warmth while it pools in my stomach. “What is this?” I try not to spit the aftertaste between our boots.

Tori laughs. “It’s Mubrigh. The soldiers in Askarea toast with it before going into battle.”

“It doesn’t have much alcohol—not more than wine, but the spices are what awaken the senses,” Silas amends.

“Or so they say.” He gestures at the men surrounding us between the tents, engaged in their own conversations.

Some of them are holding similar flasks while others are eating from metal bowls, dipping hearty bread into the stew cooked at the fireplaces.

“Tavras is on the move. My scouts have returned with news of their location,” Tori says in a hushed tone as Kaira lifts the flask to her mouth.

“Where are they?” Royad beats me to it.

Tori’s gaze cuts southward, behind the line of bushes that aren’t nearly enough to protect the massive camp from spying eyes. “As expected, they will reach the border by tomorrow morning.”

Now I’m grateful for all the hours spent discussing tactics and strategies.

Two days were enough to shift the bulk of the Askarean armies to the border where Tavras will hit hardest, and the rest of them are there to herd the units spread to the east into the main battle.

The rebels will be taking on part of that task.

Tori and Royad have made the perfect plan.

Except for one variable: Ephegos will go where I go, and I can’t go near Ayna so he can’t get his hands on her. “Any sightings of Ephegos or Erina?”

“Not yet,” Tori reports. “But that’s to be expected. I doubt the King of Tavras will spearhead his legions when he has a Crow as a general, and I doubt Ephegos will expose himself to a first strike if he intends to outlive Erina way after this war.”

He puts it so eloquently, yet the problem remains the same. “So we have no clue where they are?”

Tori shakes his head. “But we know how to lure at least Ephegos.” His gaze falls on me, and I know we can’t avoid it much longer .

“When?” I feel Ayna’s presence a moment before her hand wraps around mine, and my heart aches at the sorrow in her voice.

Tori, Royad, and I exchange a glance before Tori faces Ayna, blowing out a breath.

“First light. We need to use the element of surprise as best we can. Ephegos has fairies working for him; I’ve confirmed with my commanders that the missing soldiers are the same ones Tata mentioned.

He’ll use them to carry messages between his troops and relay commands.

But he’ll also use them to get to you and Myron.

” Ayna’s hand tightens around mine, and I requite it with a brush of my thumb over her knuckles.

“We want him to follow Myron because we know he’s a certain target while he probably relies on you becoming compliant the moment Shaelak’s bargain falls into place, and you become his m?—”

“Don’t say it,” Ayna cuts him off. “It won’t come to that. I will never.”

My chest warms with all the love streaming through the bond connecting us, right into the mate mark, and I’m surprised it doesn’t light up under my armor, burning the leather to ashes.

“You won’t,” I agree, kissing her temple and inhaling her scent—our mingled scents.

Neither of us bothered bathing after last night, preferring to remain close to each other this way when we can’t fight side by side to protect each other.

It’s not nearly enough, but it keeps the edge of panic at bay whenever I allow myself to think of what might happen.

“I’ll fly out with you,” Royad says when there is nothing else to be said, because we all know there is no way around this.

The battle needs to start on our own terms, and I’m the bait.

Long before Tori introduced the idea, Royad and I had discussed this over and over since Shaelak introduced his bargain with Ephegos, and we’ve kept it from Ayna for as long as we could.

But even when the mate inside her rebels at the thought of exposing me to the enemy like that, the queen in her knows it has to be me and no one else.

“As will I.” Silas steps closer to my side, pocketing the flask Kaira hands him.

Clio disappears and reappears with quivers and bows in her hands, holding them out for us.

“The supply is limited, but if you come across Ephegos, don’t hesitate to fire at him.

” The smirk on her face is only half convincing, and my heart breaks to see the tough, sassy Fairy Princess like that. “And if you face Herinor?—”

“No.” Kaira’s objection nearly convinces me to reconsider, but I stand by what I promised my friend.

“Herinor asked us to kill him if he is ordered to act against us,” Silas reminds her, a gentle hand on her shoulder as he slings his bow and quiver over his own. “I won’t dishonor him by watching him act against his own will.”

Kaira’s silent tears hurt almost as much as letting go of Ayna’s hand to take my own bow and quiver from Clio’s fingers.

“We’ll get him out,” Ayna whispers, and I hope it’s not a promise because there is one scenario I can see where Ephegos won’t use Herinor against us.

“We’ll fly at first light,” I say to Royad and Silas, earning a nod accompanied by a grave expression. “And I won’t say goodbye to any of you because I’m not ready to die, and neither are any of you.”

A spark of hope shimmers in Ayna’s eyes when I meet her gaze. I wrap it up at the center of my heart and store it for the darkest hour, which will surely come, because there might be a moment when the memory of that hope will be all I’ll have to cling to.