Page 63 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ JANN ~

Hours later with the moon still high in the sky, we were within sight of Braventhall, something I wouldn’t even have known if I hadn’t been there before.

The Centaurs had some kind of mindfuck magik they used to grow the forest into what they needed.

Their homes were trees, not cut or broken, but grown into rooms and around windows.

It meant their villages were very difficult to find because they weren’t merely camouflaged, they were part of the forest. Only the main city, Braventhall, could be spied from a distance, and even then only if you knew what to look for—the tallest tree in the forest with a massive branch that extended out over the rest of the canopy in a line parallel to the ground.

It was a platform the Centaurs used to train their young to launch into flight.

The moment I could make out that dark line over the trees, I was washed with relief. My body was weakening. At least here I could do something productive while resting.

‘Block your ears,’ I sent to Diadre.

‘What? Why?’

‘I have to make a call so they know who’s approaching and that I come in peace. It’s… loud.’

Diadre shrugged, but lifted her hands to place them over her ears, her shoulders hunching suddenly when I put my fingers in my mouth and gave the extremely high-pitched whistle the Centaurs would recognize as the call of a Neph Ambassador. A Nephilim of power, but approaching without aggression.

From this distance I could make out movement around that central tree immediately. The guards had likely already noted my approach before I called.

One of the Councilors would fly out to greet me so I could give the greetings, introduce my mate, and request a nest for the night.

The Centaurs would take great interest in Diadre, but they were impeccably polite.

It was one of the points of contention between the Neph and the citizens of Kyrion Vale—while both our peoples were strong warriors, the Centaurs found our ways unrefined.

While we found theirs pompous and overly bureaucratic.

But today I wouldn’t complain. I needed the rest, and I needed to keep the Centaurian Council happy so they’d listen.

Two more large shapes left the central tree and flapped towards us.

Then a handful more. I frowned. Usually the Centaurs were happy to let us come to them.

It was possible they’d recognized me personally and wanted to offer formal welcome.

But I wouldn’t have expected that, especially with rumors of the political upheaval within the Neph.

The Centaurs had no time for what they deemed the fickleness of man.

No matter that Neph were only half-human.

But then the moonlight glimmered on the coat of the first of the shadows that had launched when I whistled.

One sharp look revealed the silhouette of a massive Centaur Stallion, young and strong, turning broadside and flapping to keep himself relatively still in the air while he raised his arms and— SHIT!

It was instinct that kept us alive in the split second before that bolt tore through the air exactly where we’d been a moment before.

Seeing the Centaur draw his bow, I tucked my wings and dropped several body lengths towards the ground, Diadre shrieking as my heart pounded and my back screamed when I had to snap my wings wide to catch us before we plummeted directly to the earth.

I wobbled as my wings caught the air again, and swooped up and around, then gave that whistle a second time, and a third, frantic for them to understand that I came in peace and—

“Hold on!” I shouted, grabbing Diadre to suit my own words and looping in the air as a second bolt came singing through the air and I back-flapped—pain singing through my back—turning and flying with the wind in the opposite direction from Braventhall.

Demonstrating her discipline, Diadre did exactly as I’d instructed her back at the beginning if we ever came under attack while in flight. She flattened her arms to her sides and straightened her body, but kept her joints supple to move with me and create as little air-resistance as possible.

Panting, my back screaming, I held her to my chest, bellowing now, roaring at them to stop shooting—what the fuck were they thinking?!

But to my horror, they kept coming after us, their bows armed and a chorus of roars making their intentions clear.

The flight was harrowing—I continued evasive maneuvers as quickly as I was capable, whipping up and down, turning in the air, my wings wrenched into ever-tighter turns as I tried desperately to out-fly those bastards.

They were bigger and stronger, but with their extra bulk and large bodies, not as agile in the air. Carrying Diadre reduced my advantage, as did my exhaustion, so I watched, cursing, as they split up and spread out, herding me through the air, driving me away from the City, but towards each other.

I’d just taken yet another climb high into the sky in an effort to get above them and make it clear I was leaving so they might turn around, when a Centaur exploded from the trees below and I was forced to snap my wings wide to stay our course and desperately attempt to turn. But three things happened at once.

First, something in my back gave, and I cursed as pain shot up the right side of my spine.

Second the stallion—who was only fifty feet away—drew his bow and aimed.

I tried desperately to turn and change course, but my right wing didn’t want to give resistance, and my body was so weary.

I knew I was too slow, too clumsy in the sky.

As I desperately tried to turn, my heart screamed and I instinctively pleaded with God to somehow keep us safe—as Diadre’s hand shot out in a single snap, like a whip.

In slow motion, clawing at the air to shift our course, I watched the blade spin out of her grip and whip through the air—straight for the Centaur’s broad chest.

There was a furious roar as I finally turned us around.

I didn’t know if she’d hit him or it was his frustration at being thwarted, but I didn’t have time to think, because one of the others chasing us had used my distraction to push himself higher in the sky, increasing the reach of his bolt, and had already drawn his bow.

Luckily my clumsy turn brought me around to face him in the moment.

I saw him take aim and dropped to the side as he shot—but just when he loosed that bolt, and I raised my right wing to turn ninety degrees in the air, a searing pain tore up my back, my wing went slack, and I began to spiral.

Diadre gasped, but didn’t scream, clutching the straps around her chest to keep herself as still as possible as I fought to keep us in the air.

I dove, carefully straightening my wings and working to keep the injured one braced to glide, but unable to back-flap or slow quickly. I was forced to catch air-currents close to the canopy of the forest below and sweep over the trees, praying there were no more ambushes out here.

Shouts rose, bouncing on the air behind us but other than curses, I didn’t make out enough words to catch what they said. I only knew that if I didn’t get her out of there quickly, we were both dead.

I had no choice but to flee.

Keeping myself as close to the treetops as possible, knowing my dark wings would be harder to make out from a distance over the dark leaves, I gave up on trying to get their attention, or hearing their protests. I focused only on putting as much distance between me and Braventhall as I could.

It was half an hour before I was certain the last of the sentries had stopped following and we were safe from attack. During that time, Diadre had asked no questions, but when I’d slowed in flight, she reached back to rest a hand on my thigh, and she kept it there.

I was panting with pain, struggling to keep us airborne, but there was no choice. Flight was the only environment in which I had an advantage over the Centaurs, so bracing against the searing in my muscles, I pushed on.

After another hour during which I spent mentally spinning, trying desperately to figure out what could have happened to make the Centaurs aggressive on sight, using the conundrum to distract myself from the pain, I felt confident that we were close enough to the Meyrath border that we were unlikely to run into any grazing herds or Centaurian patrols.

They were fiercely territorial, but at this time of year, they stayed near their villages and the City because the young were still vulnerable.

Only then, only when I was certain that we were safe, at least for a time, did I start looking for a place to land. And quickly. And only then did Diadre reach for my thoughts.

‘Jann? Are you okay?’

‘My right wing is injured,’ I sent, even my mental voice tight. ‘But we need to be somewhere they won’t feel threatened if they’re patrolling. I think we’re far enough out now, I’m looking for water so we can camp…”

Diadre still had her hand on the side of my thigh, and she kept herself still, only her fingers pressing there to remind me of her presence, until finally I found the glint of a small lake, the water a gleaming black in the slowly rising light, next to a small rise and a copse of trees.

Relief washed through me, but my right wing and back were so painful, I knew if I used my wings to slow our momentum, it might give out and send us diving head-first into the ground.

Grimly, I reviewed my options and tightened my grip on Diadre.

‘This is going to be rough. Pull your knees up as high as you can—so you can hug them. Tuck your head down and don’t move until we’re on the ground and still.

Bless my mate, she didn’t even question.

She followed my instructions exactly and tucked herself into a tiny ball.

Aiming for that water because it would slow our momentum, I held her tightly to my chest and glided down towards its center, drawing my legs forward to plant my heels in the water and use them to slow our passage.

But the moment I hit the water I realized my mistake in aiming for the center. Without back-flapping, the water didn’t slow me enough.

I was still skiing on its surface when we reached the shallows. Desperate, I let my wings disappear and curled myself around Diadre as we tumbled into the pebbled bank, through the mud, then bounced up onto the grass where we finally came to a stop.

I had her at my chest, one hand over her head, my body curled around her. When we finally bounced to a halt, I flipped sideways, my elbow banging sharply on a stone, snapping an electric current through the nerves and throwing my arm wide of its own accord.

We landed on my side, Diadre still curled in a ball, my body bruised and aching… but alive.

Thank God, we were alive.

“Dee,” I rasped, trying to reach for those straps with numb fingers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine—are you?”

“Just tell me if anything hurts, or—”

I had her unbuckled in seconds, but the moment I pushed to my feet, my body crackled with pain and I cried out, dropping to my side in the damp earth.

Diadre cursed and rolled free, getting straight to her feet. There were scrapes all over her face and arms, but she moved freely—and swore when she looked at me.

Dropping to my side on the dirt, she scanned my body, her expression intense and her tone that of a Captain, not a mate.

“Can you see my fingers? How many am I holding up?” she snapped.

I groaned. “Three. My head is fine, Dee—”

“What hurts? I need a list—don’t skip a thing. Even if it seems minor now, it might be serious. You’re probably in shock. Move each of your limbs slowly and breathe between, see whether your fingers and toes respond…”

On and on, she checked me from head to toe. And despite the pain and exhaustion, there was a strange, warm prickle in my chest. My mate was so… concerned.

When she was finally convinced that I wasn’t dying, only sore, she sat back on her heels and met my eyes. “What the actual fuck, Jann?” she breathed, pushing the hair back from my face, her expression pained and confused.

“I don’t know,” I said hoarsely as I rolled to my hands and knees and started the painful process of getting to my feet. “But looks like I won’t be making good on that promise of a real bed for tonight.”

Even through the pain, I smiled when she snorted.