Page 65 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
Forty-Eight
Ayna
As I watch the dead king collapse onto his back, his hand opens, revealing a round, bone-white amulet the size of a button.
The shield crest of the Jelnedyn house is carved into its front, and a thin, silver chain hangs from it, between Erina’s stiffening fingers.
I’ve seen the design before, I think, on his uniform buttons, when he still pretended to be a normal human being.
Now, he is nothing but a heap of flesh and bones bleeding all over the dais.
Clutching my side, I scramble to my knees, scooting closer as, around me, all of Eroth’s Realm breaks loose.
Caws and screams mingle in flashes of silver, steel clanging on steel, the sound ringing in my ears.
Somewhere close by, Clio is mocking her opponents.
It’s a blessing, hearing her in good spirits like that amidst violence and bloodshed, but most of all, it is good to know she’s alive.
Silas and the fairy soldiers are wreaking havoc on the humans who, despite their numbers, stand little chance against the strengths and skill of fairies who’ve trained and fought for centuries—at least, that’s what it looks like in my immediate vicinity around the dais.
I need to get my hands on the amulet, though.
Killing Erina wasn’t enough. I need to make sure no one ever gets their fingers on the artifact again.
With a groan, I slide close enough to pry it from Erina’s hand.
I pocket it without taking a closer look—once this battle is over will be soon enough to figure out how to rid the world of something this dangerous.
A cry of warning shoots past me as I attempt pushing to my feet, breathing through the pain while my power is trying to heal the worst of my injury—and keep failing with both, the standing up and the healing.
This isn’t just any stab in the ribs. It was induced by a blow of Erina’s strange magic, and the gods know what it did to my body.
Before I can spin to spy the source of danger, someone tackles me, flattening me to the ground with the weight of his body. “Keep your head down, Queen Ayna,” the fairy soldier huffs as he slides off me, sword raised and ready to leap back into the melee.
When I lift my head enough to see what’s going on, I see the arrow protruding from the dais right where I was crouching. A Tavrasian soldier with a bow and a sword through his chest lies pinned beneath Silas’s knee where he slayed the assailant on the spot .
“Thank you,” I mouth at the Crow when he glances up to check if I’m all right. He inclines his head in recognition but leaps back into combat, joining Herinor, who has made it his goal to cut through the Tavrasian soldiers’ knees from the back rather than going for the kill.
I’m about to take a breath of relief when the wide barn threshold fills with a cluster of human forms blocking out half of the light.
“Reinforcements!” the Tavrasians shout, new energy filling their movements, and I can’t help but cringe as three of them together slay a fairy.
This isn’t looking good. I thought we were winning, but with new troops arriving, the nine remaining fairy soldiers plus Clio, Silas, and Herinor—they are not enough. And I can’t do much with my side throbbing in agony and my powers useless against the magic-repellant armor.
“We need to get out of here,” I shout at Clio, who remained close to me, right next to the dais.
The figures on the threshold are moving into the barn—one step, two, raised swords reflecting the cold light falling in through the high-up windows. If they attack before we can site-hop out of here, we’re done.
“Attack!” Her command echoes through the blood-splattered room, a harbinger of destruction, and I can’t hold back a tear as she turns toward the window and her features are unveiled.
“Iliana!” I’m not sure who shouts her name first, Clio or I, but when the rogue commander and her rebel soldiers join the battle, fairies, Crows, and humans fight side by side like they’ve never done anything else in their lives—and Tavras doesn’t stand a chance.
“Fucking lucky we found you.” Iliana wipes her sword on a patch of dead, hoarfrost-covered grass behind the barn, her brown eye sparkling in the pale sunlight.
“Fucking luck indeed,” Herinor agrees, tending to a fresh cut on his forearm.
Silas throws the Crow a sideways glance. “We had it all under control.”
“Of course you did.” The Tavrasian commander gives him a crooked smile before glancing out over the small army she brought with her. “I guess my five hundred men and I will just move on and join the next-best tea party, then.”
Two of her soldiers—the ones who restrained me at my visit at Iliana’s camp—grin back at her, their faces lighting up with pride more than amusement, but when they notice my attention, they quickly bow their heads.
Still rubbing the spot on my ribs where my wound hasn’t properly closed, sitting on a stack of wood behind the barn, I look out at the lines and lines of Tavrasian soldiers ready to fight for Askarea if it means freedom for their homeland.
“You weren’t joking when you said you’d be bringing an army north.
” They all came to fight for a better future, for prosperity and freedom.
“I would have brought more, but your messengers said time was of the essence.”
A glance is all it takes for everyone to know this moment of reprieve after the battle is over.
“Erina is dead, but the battle is still raging a few miles north. Tavras is using the magic-nullifying drug on the fairies—a more potent, faster working version of it that makes them unable to fight let alone watch out for themselves. If we go around the forest and sneak up on them from the southeast, we can divert their focus and buy the fairies time to regroup.” My voice is shaky, but my tone is determined.
“We saw more rebels marching in from the south right before we took a detour to save your ass … Queen Wolayna,” she amends with a hint of a bow that makes me smile.
“They must be close to the forest by now. If we hurry, we could catch up with them before they clash with Tavras.” She turns to the two soldiers closest to her.
“Still feels strange to talk about Tavras as the enemy when our veins are filled with Tavrasian blood.” With a shrug, she lifts her sword to the sky, and her army stands at attention.
“We march,” she shouts, watching the soldiers set into motion, and the two men closest to her take the lead. To me, she says, “I’ll come back for Erina’s body later. He might have been a tyrant and a madman, but he deserves a proper burial. I’ll see to it that he gets one—once this war is over.”
I don’t disagree. “It’s the only way Tavras will believe he’s dead.”
“These Askarean soldiers will go with you,” Clio says to the commander. “They’ll fight alongside your men like they are part of your army.” She inclines her head at Iliana. “Thanks for helping out. ”
“It’s an honor, Princess.” Iliana winks at Clio, then shoots me a significant look. “The strong women in the world must stick together to keep the power-hungry men in check.” She doesn’t turn back as she stalks away, followed by the Askarean soldiers. “See you on the battlefield, Wolayna.”
I’m ready to push to my feet and start walking after them when Clio’s hand wraps around my wrist. “You’re in no shape to fight, Ayna.”
The fact that she’s right doesn’t change my need to do something. Erina might be dead, but Ephegos is still out there, hunting Myron and me. We need to end this before he succeeds. From my other side, Silas steps up to me, placing a hand over mine where I keep protecting my ribs.
“Let me take a look at this.” He bends low so he can peel away the leather where it was split by Erina’s magic. “And while we’re at it, you did well in there.”
The pride in his tone conjures a bemused, fuzzy feeling in my chest, as does the warm smile he gives me when I glance down at him. “Thank you, Silas.”
A few feet away, Herinor is pacing, his strides too long for casual movement. He is restless, probably wondering how long it will take for Ephegos to figure out he abandoned his post, wherever that might have been.
“Go,” I tell him, suppressing a grunt of pain as Silas places his fingers on the edge of the wound I still haven’t dared take a look at. “You’ve risked enough.”
Mid-motion, Herinor freezes, strands of hair that have pulled free from where he tied it at the nape of his neck swinging around his shoulder.
“I didn’t betray you, you know. I didn’t want to go back to him.
I did it to prevent them from taking Myron.
” The image of the fairies site-hopping away with Herinor attached to their arms after shoving Myron out of their grasp flashes through my mind alongside a new surge of fear.
“And now, he has ordered me to find Myron and bring him to him.” Pure terror defines Herinor’s scarred features.
“If he finds out I helped—” He pauses, wiping his mouth with his palm as if to check for blood, and when he finds none, continues, “If he finds out I helped Askarea ”—he phrases it so carefully, appeasing the oath to Ephegos by making sure he didn’t help me —“he’ll kill me, but at least, then I won’t have to betray the Crow court again. ”
“Then don’t go. Come with us and sit out the battle.
If we win and Ephegos is dead, you’ll be free.
” It’s the best I can give him without ordering him.
I won’t take this choice away from him, not when he was forcefully taken by Ephegos.
Crows can’t lie, and even if he could, by now I know he wouldn’t lie to me when he just risked everything to help us find and destroy Erina and his projections.
Something bitterly painful is brewing in my chest as I study Herinor coming to his decision. His lips tremble, and his eyes squeeze shut, head tilted back as if he’s beseeching the gods for an answer.
When he opens them again, they are their usual pale green and set with determination. “If I come with you, you’ll lead me directly to Myron, and I’ll be bound to take him to Ephegos. I can’t come.”
My chest tightens, and Silas stops fiddling with my wound, giving his full attention to his friend instead .
“You can avoid him. You’ve done so for months.”
“This is different. It’s a direct order, and the only way to stop me is by putting a blade through my chest.” He nods at the sword dangling at Silas’s hip on the opposite side from his hatchet.
“No.” I beat the others to it. “We’re not killing you. Not when you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve been finding ways around the bargain all this time; you’ll find a way out of this.”
The devastation in Herinor’s eyes breaks my heart all over again.
“There is no way out of this for me, Ayna. Not really. I can’t kill Ephegos.
The oath forbids it. And I can’t help you.
All I can do is stay out of your way and make sure I do my worst at whatever mission Ephegos is giving me.
I can try to fail, but he’ll find a way to make his orders more specific, a noose tightening around my neck, until I have no choice. ”
Silas opens his mouth to object, but Herinor isn’t done.
“I won’t be the one costing you your victory, Ayna.
I won’t be the one to destroy the Crow Court.
” With a sigh, he lowers himself to his knees, pulling his own sword and holding it out for me.
“Kill me, Ayna. Kill me before he makes me do something I can’t take back. ”
Silas and Clio exchange a glance of horror, while I stare at the polished pommel of Herinor’s sword grasping for words.
“No.” It’s the only one I find.
Holding my breath to trap whatever sound of pain wants to escape me, I hobble over to stand in front of the most conflicted Crow I’ve ever seen and lay a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re brave, Herinor, and deserving of all the good in this world.
” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead.
“I refuse to believe this is how your story ends. I refuse to be the one to end it. Clio!” I hold out my hand for the Fairy Princess, not looking away from Herinor’s light green, despair-filled, silver-limned eyes. “Take Silas and me back to the camp.”
Clio’s hand wraps around mine, and I drop my other one from Herinor’s shoulder. “I believe in you, Herinor,” I tell him in a whisper.
Then, Clio drags us back through the darkness between places, and the war camp greets us with the cries and moans of the wounded.