Page 69 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ JANN ~

Three days. Three fucking days before I could fly without pain, and launch without more than a pinch. Three fucking nights of letting my mate go alone into the Centaur village to gather intelligence while I paced lines in the forest dirt until she came back.

But finally, on the third morning, I woke up and stretched and my back didn’t hurt.

Thank you, God.

Of course, that meant we would fly the Raven Peaks that afternoon, and tomorrow would enter Valgorath.

Suddenly, sending Dee into the Centaurian villages didn’t seem so bad after all.

I felt sick at the thought of her among the elite of Valgorath. Especially since there was still no sign of Caelan and I knew even if she’d somehow gone to Meyrath, she would have heard about that conflict with the Centaurs. She’d be here by now.

That meant either she’d missed us entirely and already passed through Kyrion Vale still looking for me, or she was dead.

Either way, it meant navigating everything that was to come without her assistance and insight, and that made my teeth clench. But it was time. Every hour we waited was another hour that Gall—or his imposter—sank claws deeper into our Kingdom.

By the time the sun was high, I had Diadre standing in front of me, wrapped in our sleeping furs, sweating her ass off because it was midday and the sun was warm.

But she would be grateful for those furs soon.

The climate at the summit of the peaks was quite literally deadly.

The physical act of flying and holding her would help keep me warm.

But she would be at the mercy of the elements, unable to do anything but lay against me and wait. For hours.

I hadn’t seriously considered whether this might kill her, but now, seeing her groan and mutter against the heat of the furs, I prayed that I hadn’t misjudged how her much smaller, female body might have even less resilience in the storms.

This was all we had. And it was time to move, finally.

“Once we’re flying, but especially when we’ve reached the snows, you speak in my mind. Save your breath and body heat. Keep your nose among the furs, and hands and feet, too.”

“Is it really that cold?”

I nodded. “Even with the furs you’d die in that climate in a day,” I muttered, praying that I could get her across fast enough. I’d seen slaves killed by the traverse. Though usually because the Neph who’d stolen them hadn’t provided enough warmth for the flight.

After making certain she understood everything, I buckled the straps around her and the furs, and then we launched.

There was a deeper ache in my back from taking off than I anticipated, but once I was in the sky and slowly climbing towards the peaks, my body eased.

At first, Diadre continued to grumble about the heat, but within an hour she was more comfortable. And two hours later when we reached the snows and the wind picked up, she stopped complaining at all.

Part of the battle with the summits of the Raven Peaks were the winds.

It was a constant battle to balance staying as close to the peaks as possible to shorten the trip, yet not so close that a brutal gust would dash you against the rocky face of the mountain.

It meant there were only certain places the peaks could be traversed, where the gaps between jagged summits were wide enough to give us room to maneuver.

‘I see what you meant about the weather,’ Diadre sent nervously as we rose higher.

‘Just rest and keep your arms as close to your chest as you can. Keep your hands inside the furs. Make sure your ears stay covered. We’ll fly into the traverse in about half an hour.’

‘We haven’t reached it yet?!’

I frowned. ‘No. I told you, Dee, the traverse will take hours and be… brutal.’

‘Just like you…’ she said, but there was a delightful warmth in her voice.

‘You haven’t seen brutal yet,’ I sent back dryly, meaning the winds of course, though I felt her flush of amusement.

There was nothing more from her for a time.

I had to concentrate on keeping myself as balanced as possible.

My wings had held up better than expected to this point, but when the larger gusts came and tipped me, I could feel the pinch on that right side.

I needed to enter the traverse as high and flat and as close to the center of the corridor of summits as possible.

This path through the range was the closest to Braventhall, and the safest line when carrying a load. The mountains were deeper here, but the space wider. I hadn’t flown it alone before, but I’d passed through several times. I knew where the peaks opened and the crosswinds were the most chaotic.

I had to pray my wings didn’t freeze before we made it through.

But it was too late to worry about that as I caught an updraft and was thrust high into the grey clouds that boiled through the traverse that was our passageway to Ebonreach.

It was time.

God, carry us both to safety.

*****

~ DIADRE ~

We weren’t even to the traverse before I realized I’d been wrong to assume Jann’s warnings about the weather at the peaks were exaggerated. Far from it. I feared that not only had I not taken him seriously enough, but he may have underestimated his own weariness in the wake of our travel.

I’d been impressed that he’d waited a full three days at that camp. Now I wondered if it should have been a week.

Half an hour after he told me we weren’t even into the worst of it yet—and the first creep of fear curled in my chest—we hit a sudden updraft.

My stomach dropped to my toes as we shot higher and somehow, impossibly, the air grew colder…

a split second before the wind hit us broadside and the world tilted.

What followed was terrifying. And I could do nothing but be careful not to distract Jann. And pray that his wings would hold up.

The wind felt like icy knives cutting through the furs and clothing, finding every tiny whisper of a gap between my skin and the clothing that offered scraps of warmth.

As if frozen claws dragged on my skin. And once we were among the peaks, I was blinded, the wind so cold and brutal it seemed my eyes would freeze in my head, so I was forced to keep them closed.

How did Jann see where he was going?

The bare glimpses I managed were stunning, but only caught when my eyes flew open because the wind caught us and seemed to flip us over, my body reflexively convulsing, convinced I was about to freefall to my death.

It was a rugged, brutal chaos of blue, gray, and white peaks rising towards the sky like pocked teeth threatening to close on us.

And if these mountains were the maw of a creature, the wind was its roar. Not only frigidly cold, but thundering. Tearing at skin and ears alike.

And Jann had said this would take hours?

I had no idea how much time had passed the first time the wind caught us when I felt Jann grunt in his chest against my back and he wobbled, struggling to hold our course.

I almost reached out, almost asked him if there was a way to help, but I knew… I knew he fought a battle. And this wasn’t one I could aid him in.

The last thing he needed right now was questions from a fearful mind. I had to let him find his way and pray his body would hold up. Because he’d been abundantly clear: To land on the Raven Peaks and cease moving was a death sentence.

I now understood why.

The minutes seemed to crawl by. At some point I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore.

I wondered how Jann’s extremities were doing, and gave a mildly hysterical laugh when I caught myself thanking God my ass and the furs that wrapped me were pressed hard against his groin, praying it protected his manhood.

But there was no more laughter as Jann fought his way through those harrowing winds.

It seemed we’d been in there for days when a rush of sleet pelted the few spots of skin on my face that were open to the air. I flinched and hissed, and felt Jann do the same. Suddenly, my heart was in my throat.

The wind, already howling, turned rabid.

Jann shouted in pain and threw his arms up to protect his face and head as hail was thrown at us by those incredible winds.

I ducked into the furs, burying my face and baring the top of my head.

Those tiny projectiles needled until it seemed that claws punctured my scalp through my hair and I wondered if the wetness I felt was melted sleet, or my own blood.

Above me, Jann jerked and twitched, weaving back and forth so that we tilted drunkenly, first one way, then the other.

‘Hold on, Dee! We’re almost through the worst. There’s only another mile. But pray… pray my feathers don’t freeze.’

I blinked from within the furs, my breath growing short and shallow.

The sleet. The hail. That moisture could be deadly if it coated his feathers and they froze, no longer able to ride the flows of air and… shit.

‘I’m here. Keep going. You’re incredible. I’m here,’ I replied, unable to think of anything else that didn’t sound like I was lying.

I prayed in earnest. I felt every tiny lift on the updraft, every flinch from a cross-wind. And every plunge of descent.

I couldn’t look. Every time Jann grunted, or we dropped suddenly, I flinched, convinced we hovered only feet above the rocky mountains and would be dashed to our deaths.

Time seemed to crawl—and then I felt it in the bond. The creep of despair in him, the fear—not for himself, but for me. And I knew…

‘Jann, I’m fine. I’m cold, but I’m fine.

’ My teeth chattered no matter how I clenched my jaw.

I couldn’t feel my hands. And I feared that even if we made it out of this I may have lost the use of my toes.

But I was wrapped in warm fur, while he fought with the worst of the elements to carry me through.

‘Just hold on,’ he repeated in my head. ‘I can see the lighter sky ahead. We’ll break through the clouds when we’re past the peak and then—’

But he never finished the thought. A huge gust of wind rose from the front and seemed to stop our progress completely, as if we hovered in the air—wobbling and wavering, Jann frantic, flapping and cursing through his teeth.

It hit me then… if the wind was too strong so that we couldn’t move forward, we would be trapped and…

I shook off the dark thoughts. No. That wasn’t what would happen here.

Jann was strong. And determined. And he’d done this before.

‘I know you can do it,’ I sent him firmly. ‘Don’t lose sight of what you’ve already managed to get this far.’

‘My wings grow heavy. Pray we break out of this soon. I fear the consequences if we don’t.’

Then we were both silent. But I gripped that bond, feeding into it, sending every ounce of love, belief and confidence I had, urging him to feel me.

I prayed, begging God, offering myself in his place if it came to that. Don’t let him fail.

And the air seemed to shudder and I heard Jann shout.

‘Hold on—these are the last crosswinds. Almost there— fuck!’

I gasped as it seemed we bounced through the sky like a rock skipped on water.

I kept my eyes closed and hugged myself within the furs, wishing it was his strong body I clung to.

The flight was so rocky, so jagged, I oofed and grunted with the turbulence of our path.

At one point I was certain we were upside down, and I silently begged God to make it quick if we were going to die.

Then all at once it stopped.

Everything.

There was a great heavy groan from Jann and no more bouncing or flipping or… I hardly dared hope. But then his voice bloomed in my head.

‘We made it, Dee. But I think—”

I screamed as we fell forward and dropped like a stone, headfirst.