Page 69 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)
Fifty-One
Herinor
It’s too soon, and I’m not ready to fulfill my task and deliver Myron to the traitor Crow, but the magic of bargains is already tugging on me from all directions. If I delay any longer, I might die right here.
Had Myron had the decency to kill me when I dug him out of his shield, I might no longer be standing here to watch Ephegos gesture at the Crow King, a silent reminder of my task.
Find him and bring him to me.
I found him. Now it’s time to take him to Ephegos.
“Fight, Myron.” It’s worth a try, even when Kaira is kneeling on the ground on my other side, head lolling to the side from the effect of the drug one of the Crows shoved down her throat.
It’s a small mercy it didn’t have to be me. Ephegos has no idea what the Flameling means to me, and that’s how it will remain.
“Fucking fight,” I repeat, but no one hears me.
“Well, Myron, are you ready to die?” My words taste of poison and betrayal, even when it’s merely to keep my act intact.
Ephegos can’t know what I’ve done, leading the others to Erina to stop the projections and buy them a chance at winning the battle.
The fighting is slowing down on the vast field, which tells me we’re close to it—so close.
But none of it matters if Myron dies and Ayna becomes Ephegos’s slave. None of it matters if I must betray the only true family I’ve ever had.
“Not sure, Ephegos.” Myron lifts his head, staring down the traitor Crow with ice in his clear blue eyes.
Clear blue, but black veins are creeping around his lashes, spilling into the white of his eyes.
His magic isn’t all gone, and I haven’t bothered to alert anyone to the fact that I haven’t given him the drug. I won’t let him die defenseless. As long as the Crow King can fight, this isn’t over.
At least, that’s what I tell myself, because I’m useless to their victory, no matter how much I want to help.
I will face Eroth today—Shaelak’s words haven’t vanished from my mind—and I’ll be ready. I’d rather die than betray Myron and Ayna.
The tang of iron spills over my tongue as the thought festers, weaving through my mind, pounding through my veins.
A glance around informs me Ennis, Frenius, and Gorrey aren’t with the troops Ephegos chose to join him—whether that is a coincidence or because he doesn’t trust them, I’m not sure. It doesn’t change what I need to do.
“Herinor.” Ephegos’s reminder is a summoning, directing my feet to start moving even when I’m throwing my entire strength against it.
“I’m sorry, Myron.” My words are a whisper, but my king hears me, nonetheless.
Slowly, he shakes his head. “You are forgiven, Herinor. What you need to do doesn’t change who you are.”
He has no idea how right he is. Because what I need to do isn’t march him to his death.
“No!” Ayna’s cry makes the frosty air rattle. Everything inside of me constricts as I fight the urge to grab Myron and run. I need to be smarter than that. No matter how many possible paths I’ve mulled over in my mind, there is no outcome that won’t destroy more than just me.
We’re five paces from Ephegos, Myron walking like the brave king he is, probably forming his own plans—none of which will help him once Ephegos gets his fingers on him. His eyes are on Ayna, on the Crows holding her down.
“Oh yes, Myron. One wrong move and I’ll start cutting off her fingers,” Ephegos narrates his glance. “But if it’s any consolation, the Crow Queen will live. She will even remain the Crow Queen. Just not the way you wish.”
A growl erupts from Myron’s throat, but his isn’t the only one.
A spray of blood splatters the ground as Ayna tears free of her captors’ grasp, the leathers on her arms hanging in tatters, and launches herself in Ephegos’s direction.
In her hands, her daggers shimmer in scraps of her magic, but she’s still fighting—even under the influence of the drug, she is drawing up enough of her power to put the Flame darting after her to shame.
With a stab, she rips into the male’s throat before staggering on, her strength already leaving her.
“Ayna, no—” Myron’s shout silences even the birds overhead.
I realize only now, I have stopped walking, and we’re standing in front of Ephegos.
I’ve fulfilled my task—and there’s nothing left I can give.
Two Crows are on Ayna once more, but these didn’t come to capture her.
Ennis. Gorrey. The two males don’t bother drawing their swords as they rip into the Flames rushing to seize Ayna once more. This is it.
With a battle cry, I let go of Myron’s arm and charge right for the Crows flanking Ephegos in a heartbeat. The tang of iron and salt fills my mouth as the magic of bargains strikes. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up, but I must save them if it’s the last thing I do.
“You’ll die for this!” Ephegos shouts, his magic flaring in his palms and shooting for the Crows who turned against him.
“I’m already dying,” I utter under my breath, swallowing back the blood in my mouth.
The Crows still loyal to him follow his lead, and all of Hel’s realm breaks loose. Ephegos’s curses echo across the field as Crows clash with Crows, Flames, and fairies.
Myron’s power surges from him in an explosion of onyx mist, bringing the weaker of our opponents to their knees, despite the protection of the armor .
Shaelak did speak the truth—a kernel of his power lives inside the Crow King, and it is ready for vengeance.
Eyes black as night and onyx veins creeping over his features, over his neck, and emerging from beneath his leather at his hands, Myron rips out the throat of the nearest Flame, then a Crow, and another Flame.
In the detonation of Myron’s power, Ephegos has vanished into thin air, and I wish I’d acted faster, risked more to get my hands on the traitor Crow and end him.
Royad spins past me, his sword a blur of silver as he cuts off the head of a Crow getting too close to Myron, and there is Tori, staggering into the next opponent, yet his sword finds its mark in the chest of the Flame.
Fire and silver consume each other as the drug they all were fed burns out of their systems even faster than I’ve seen them recover before.
If this isn’t Shaelak’s way of trying to make up, I don’t know what it is.
More Crows have joined the melee, turning against Ephegos’s men, Frenius leading them with his magic shining bright like a star, and for a brief moment, I believe we’ll win this fight.
A fleeting moment.
Like a creature born of death and despair, I rage across the field, taking down every fire-spitting monster I find in my path, careful to spare the Crows who dare stand with us against Ephegos.
We’re not yet being smitten by the gods—so far, they haven’t put Ephegos in our path.
We’re just fighting our own kind, the Crows who stand to defend him.
I’m fighting back-to-back with Myron now, our movements almost poetic—in the bloodiest of ways—and Ayna has picked up the dagger she dropped, spearing a Crow through the jaw.
With every soldier we slay, we get closer to the Crow Queen.
If we can get her out of here alive, nothing else matters.
As long as Ephegos doesn’t get her, there is a chance.
Nothing stops me as I forge a path through the onslaught of Crows and Flames, battling my way from Myron’s side toward the Flameling fighting at the side of the field together with Clio and the Fairy King.
When I scan the area for the Crow Queen, I see him.
There—there is Ephegos.
The traitor is only three steps away from Ayna when Myron realizes her back is unprotected—except for me. I’m the only one left standing within her range, and if I help her, my deal with Ephegos will be well and truly broken, and the gods know what will happen apart from my own life being forfeit.
The pleading in Myron’s gaze is enough to crack stone, but even without the desperation there, I know what I must do.
If Ephegos gets his hands on her, that’s it.
“I will be there to guide you,” a deep, star-laced voice hums. I’ve never heard the voice before, but this isn’t the God of Darkness.
A split second is all I have to decide as Ephegos lunges for Ayna.
One blink of an eye. But I’ve been given an opportunity to rectify all my failures, a one and final chance to do right by the king I should have never doubted and the female who has been nothing but gracious.
By the queen who gave me a place in her court even when I could never truly serve her.
And there is no way in Hel’s realm I will let it pass.
Shaelak said I will face Eroth before the end, so I’ll do it giving my court the best chance at survival.
Whatever punishment the ancient magic of bargains and promises holds in store, it can’t be worse than losing this war and living under Ephegos’s rule.
“Ayna!” Myron’s voice carries across the noise of clashing steel and searing magic, making the Crow Queen turn to face her fate.
Blood slides down the side of her sweaty face, her armor frayed on the shoulder where the soldier she was fighting landed a blow, and down her arms where she ripped free of the claws restraining her.
Myron is sprinting toward her now, batting away one soldier after the other with both sword and magic, but he’s too far away.
It has to be me. And I’m ready.
I’m already moving toward them when Ephegos lifts his sword arm to attack, Ayna’s blade clashing with his so hard the Crow Queen staggers back.
With all she has, she shoves against Ephegos’s attack, and she might just free herself with a spin out from under their locked weapons, but Ayna doesn’t see what Myron and I see.
So quick, I can’t even blink, Ephegos draws a knife from his belt, shoving it at Ayna’s stomach.
Myron’s scream rings in my ears as I wedge myself between my queen and the traitor Crow, taking the stab meant for Ayna.
And that knife pierces my side as I grasp Ephegos around the middle and shoulder, turning him out of Ayna’s range .
Time seems to slow as I gasp for breath, waiting for the magic of bargains to smite me, but the air flickers beside me, a streak of silver splitting reality like lighting.
Over Ephegos’s shoulder, wide gray eyes meet mine as Ayna realizes I saved her, and the horror spreading there tells me I’m not the only one waiting for all of Hel’s realm to break loose.
“Come,” the star-laced voice speaks from the opening gash of silver, darkness peeking through that makes me believe this might be an invitation to the afterlife.
It doesn’t matter.
Because at the back of my mind, Ephegos’s words from a long time ago resurface.
You know you can’t kill me—not in this world.
But I can take him to the afterlife with me.
So I hold onto the traitor Crow with all I have, ignoring the blade sinking deeper into my flesh, and throw a last glance at Kaira, who’s locked in battle with a Fire fairy.
“I love you,” I whisper in my mind, telling her what I’ve failed to say in words, even when I know she’s too busy to pay attention to my thoughts.
When I turn toward the silver light, I’m not afraid.