13. Ayna
Ayna
The cave isn’t a comfortable space to sleep in, but I get used to it fast. It doesn’t matter where along the roughly hewn walls I lie down each night as long as it is next to Myron. We’ve spent the past few days catching our group up on the details of our separated journeys, the danger of Erina’s new weapon, the feud between Myron and Ephegos, and Andraya and Pouly have given more details about the Tavrasian rebels.
Since the great slaughter of the Milevishja line by Erina’s ancestors, the rebels have built up a network of spies and mercenaries willing to put the true Milevishja heir back on the throne. Naturally, this includes lots of secrecy. Secrecy of a sort that didn’t allow for anyone to find me before my mother took me away to the edge of Tavras where I finally disappeared onto a ship and sailed away.
A glance at Myron, Silas, and Royad chatting by the fire tells me it might have been for the best they didn’t, or I’d never have met the Crow King.
As if in response to my thought, my tattoo tingles, and on the other side of the fire, Myron reaches for his own shoulder, a smile on his lips.
“ Honestly, your head will explode if you keep thinking all the time,” Kaira notes from where she’s nibbling on a piece of bread. “ Mine will for sure.” She raises a brow, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Herinor, who’s sitting a bit away from the other Crows, quietly talking to Astorian.
Clio left for Aceleau again, keeping her brother in the fairy capital up to date on everything that happens in this little cave. Andraya and Pouly are resting at the back of the space, curled up side by side, arms tucked under their heads. The two rebels insisted on taking the final watch of the night, and I didn’t have it in me to refuse them despite the fairies, and even I, all being better equipped to detect disturbances than they are.
“We should go to Aceleau together,” Royad notes loud enough for everyone with fairy senses to pick up, so my Crow hearing does, and I can’t help but frown at my friend.
“You know we won’t stand a chance against them if we don’t get support, even if we find a few survivors in the Seeing Forest,” Myron backs his cousin’s approach. “If Erina truly found a way to produce the magic-nullifying drug faster, he has a weapon that will work against armies. ”
Myron shared their original plan to search for Crow survivors in the Seeing Forest first, but with Erina making such progress with his weapon, we have no time to lose.
“It’s bad enough they extract the foundation for the drug from Flame blood,” Kaira throws in, a shudder raking through her body. The fact that none of her injuries are visible any longer doesn’t mean she didn’t suffer and it didn’t leave a mark.
“Fucking bastards.” Herinor launches to his feet, pacing behind the fire like a caged animal. “I knew there was a deeper meaning to those meetings with Jeseida?—”
“What meetings with Jeseida?” Both Myron and Royad whirl on him, menace in their eyes as they wait for Herinor to deliver a reason to kill him.
They don’t fully trust him yet, despite his aid in freeing Myron and the others, and right they are. The male’s allegiance is still bound to Ephegos by bargain, and if he isn’t careful, he’ll end up hurting us or killing himself defying Ephegos’s orders.
Herinor stops, folding his thick arms over his chest. “The ones Ephegos took with the Flame Matrone near the end of my time at the palace in Meer?” He phrases it like a question. “You never asked if Ephegos had met with her, and I’m rather fond of my life, so it didn’t occur to me to volunteer the information unless necessary.”
Myron leaps at him so fast I barely see him move, arms shifting into wings and fingers into claws as he grabs Herinor by the throat and pins him against the cave wall. Neither Royad nor Silas interfere as Myron squeezes Herinor’s windpipe so tight I believe he might crush it.
“We need to know everything if we want a chance to stay a step ahead of Erina. Do you understand me? Everything. ” The last word comes out as a growl, deadly and full of command.
“Could you kill him later, Myron?” Astorian slinks toward them, ignoring how Kaira has shrunk against me in clear fear for the Crow fighting for air yet not lifting a finger to defend himself. “He’s telling the truth.”
“Because he cannot lie,” Myron amends, glaring at the fairy general over his shoulder as he releases Herinor’s throat, the male slumping against the wall, panting. “He’s telling the truth because he’s a Neredynian fae, and we cannot lie.”
“Old news.” Astorian holds out his hand to the Crow warrior, who promptly takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up. “Now, tell us everything, Herinor, or I swear to Eroth and his vengeful children, I will pick up right where my crowned Crow friend over there left off.” I’ve seen Astorian smirk and grin and dole out mock threats these past few days, have heard stories from Clio of how he likes to do the same with her brother, but this is something entirely different. This is a real threat, one that makes my hair stand at the back of my neck. His lips are a thin line, eyes hard as the stone he can bend with his power, and the hold he has on Herinor’s forearm is anything but comforting.
“ He ’ ll kill him,” Kaira whispers into my mind. “ He ’ ll rip his head off.”
“ Don ’ t be so dramatic.” I try to make it sound lighthearted, but my voice—even the one I use to speak into my sister’s head—is too shaky. “ Herinor isn ’ t stupid. He won ’ t let it come to that. If he dies, it ’ s because he breaches the bargain he made with Ephegos.”
“ Like that makes it any better.” Kaira hops to her feet, shoving up her sleeves and brushing back her braid. “Apparently, male communication issues are the same in any species.” With a few strides, she’s on the other side of the fire where Silas and Royad stand at Myron’s flank as if to protect him from the part-Flame with little more than a spark of power. “Oh, get over yourselves.” She shimmies between Silas and the wall, making her way to Herinor whose eyes grow bigger with each of her hasty steps.
Without regard for retaliation, she shoves against Astorian’s shoulder, motioning for him to get out of the way as she grabs Herinor by the collar of his shirt.
Much to my surprise, Astorian yields, and Herinor doesn’t move, nostrils flaring as Kaira raises to her toes and whispers, “What do you know about the production of the drug?”
While Herinor blinks, struggling to form words, in her mind, Kaira opens a channel I’ve experienced before—the night she kept the guards at the palace gate occupied so we could sneak in.
What I see isn’t what I expected, though. Instead of all the wonders of how a fairy drug is made, a violent toss of emotions engulfs me. It’s a push and pull of doubt and attraction, repulsion and desire. I’m a nutshell in the ocean that are Kaira’s emotions until she manages to form a clear thought.
He smells like the flowers you lay down at the grave of a loved one .
The thought is so random—and startling—that I only realize she wasn’t speaking to me but merely thinking.
“ I don ’ t know if that ’ s a scent I ’ d be attracted to, but whatever works for you, sister.” Barely able to hide my smugness at filtering into her thoughts, I get up and follow her around the fire, stopping a foot away from Myron, who struggles not to hop in front of me to block Herinor’s path in case he should decide to attack me.
I almost laugh. He wasn’t there to protect me in Meer, and he doesn’t need to protect me now. I have my powers back and can protect myself.
My tattoo tingles as if in answer, and warmth streams down my spine like a stroke of Myron’s fingers.
Kaira, however, stands ramrod still, whether from embarrassment that I heard that intimate thought or because she’s fighting not to jump Herinor—or stab him—I don’t care. I fold my arms over my chest and study the Crow warrior and the Flame as they stare each other down.
Just when I think the cave is going to crumble under the tension, flashes of thoughts fill my mind. The sense of Kaira’s hand so close to Herinor’s throat, the warmth of her fingers as they brush the skin right beneath his collarbone. Her scent… Salt and herbs and embers. I’m only beginning to realize I’m no longer in Kaira’s mind but in Herinor’s, and the channel she made is one extending into his thoughts, allowing me to read them as she does when the images shift, and I’m in a torchlit room.
Everlasting fire illuminates the space where I ’ ve been ordered by Ephegos to wait. It would make a good torture chamber. The table ’ s already there, as is a rack of tools I could use to break my enemies. Instead of exploring the assortment of hammers and pliers and knives, I sit on the single chair at the side of the room, wondering if Myron has realized I abandoned him.
When Ephegos offered to become part of the rebellion, it was an easy choice. Myron hasn ’ t done shit to break the curse in years. Marrying one pitiful female after the other doesn ’ t count. Even if this year ’ s bride seems to have more spirit than any other before. I wonder if she ’ s ever realized the monster she married will be the death of her like he was of all the other brides before her…
The scenery changes, ripping me out of the familiar torture chamber where Herinor first cut me to alert Myron through the mate mark. The breath I suck in nearly chokes me as I’m thrown into another memory of Herinor’s. This time, he isn’t alone. A female with brown skin and chestnut hair fidgets where Ephegos is extracting blood from the vein in her forearm while Jeseida swirls a clear fluid in a glass vial.
“ Just a few drops. That should be enough for a first test.” The Flame Matrone smiles at Ephegos like a proud mother, and he seems to stand taller under her approval. Honestly, the familiarity between the two of them is sickening. I never would have joined him had Myron shown a flicker of promise. But he ’ s given up on our people while Ephegos is forging a future for us.
“ Ready?” Ephegos withdraws the needle and holds it over the vial, letting two thick drops of Flame blood drip into it. Crimson streaks spread like a spiderweb before the Matrone stirs it with a flick of her hand. Fire sizzles in her palm, engulfing the potion with heat and magic. I ’ ve seen her do that before when they tried Crow blood. But our blood doesn ’ t work.
“What’s so special about Flame blood that it blocks fairy powers?” Astorian asks out of the blue, drawing all eyes to him, including mine.
“You read minds, too?” I blurt out, earning a dip of Astorian’s chin and a horrified gasp from Pouly and Andraya who have woken from the tumult.
Astorian reads minds. Of course, he does. He’s the one Clio referred to all those weeks ago… I know someone who does. It ’ s an annoying power. If I ever see him again, I ’ ll ask him to help you learn to control it.
“Funny enough, I’m not surprised to have another mind-reader in the group,” Myron says with death in his voice, and Astorian has the good sense to yield a step as Myron turns toward him.
“Nothing to worry about, Crow King.” The fairy general shrugs with less of an apology in his tone than I would have expected when dropping news of such impact. “You have impeccable shields. All of you.” He gestures at the Crow males, who all stand rigid like they are fighting not to rip Astorian’s throat out. “Even the Flame and the Crow Queen are quite adept at it,” he amends, giving me an intrigued glance that makes Myron growl a warning. “Your mind is a fortress. How you manage to lock me out is a mystery.”
“We’ll share everything we learned as soon as we’re done here. But can we focus on the important stuff first?” Kaira interrupts, whirling back on Herinor, who flinches under her stare.
“ I don ’ t know what makes it so special, but there ’ s something about the ancient Flame blood that seems to counteract all other magic. Perhaps it ’ s the gods ’ way of justice,” Herinor answers Astorian’s question in his mind, and I’m surprised nobody objects when we fall back into our silent interaction . I don’t miss the taste of disappointment in Herinor’s tone, though. He didn’t know either.
Astorian inclines his head at the Crow and settles back on the boulder where he was sitting before everything started, and Myron, Royad, and Silas relax just enough to take the palpable tension out of the air as the male relays every last one of Herinor’s thoughts to them.
Herinor, however, is back in the torture chamber, but this time, he’s not a spectator. He’s strung to the table, hands balled into fists and leather bindings cutting into his muscles as he strains against them. And I’m back in Herinor’s head.
“ I said I ’ d do it. You don ’ t need to tie me up,” I plead with Ephegos, who injects the drug into my arm like I ’ m nothing more than an experiment. Perhaps I am.
He knew my loyalty would be fickle since I have always believed in Myron ’ s way. But after millennia of being trapped, I ’ ve become impatient. And so has Ephegos.
The pain as the needle pricks my skin is nothing compared to the agony when the drug rushes my blood. By Hel and Shaelak, and even Shygon and his cursed dragons, this is torture. If Ephegos manages to make this into a scalable weapon, I don ’ t want to be on our enemies ’ side. Then the drug kicks in for real, and all strength leaves my body, limbs slacking as my magic is drained from me. I can ’ t move—can barely breathe. My tongue slides back in my mouth, and I gurgle against my own spittle, fighting for air .
“ It ’ s killing him,” Jeseida notes, jotting down a few numbers and letters on a piece of paper. “ Maybe this is all a fool ’ s attempt after all.”
“ It ’ s not.” Ephegos sounds convinced. Convinced enough to grab my head and turn it sideways so I don ’ t suffocate. He does nothing though to make the pain stop. Doesn ’ t try to heal me or relieve the agony chasing my blood in any other way. Gods, he could have simply knocked me out, saving me the torture.
But he wants to know every last detail of what happens, watching me for hours, days, as the drug slowly recedes from my system.
I don ’ t pass out. I ’ m too strong for that. Don ’ t even sleep, the effects of the drug not allowing me to nod off from exhaustion.
“ We need to adjust the dosage, experiment to get rid of the side effects. It will be difficult to interrogate people if they are paralyzed,” Jeseida points out, earning a raised brow from Ephegos, who seems to delight in my suffering.
“ Let ’ s see if it ’ s permanent first.” He stalks around the table, picking up a small, bone-hilted knife and setting it to my bare bicep. “ Perhaps he ’ s just pretending.”
He rams the blade into my flesh without warning, and I barely manage a breath. A breath that should have been a scream, but my tongue isn ’ t cooperating, and my limbs don ’ t lash out at the Crow, no matter how I will them to.
I have no clue how long I ’ m down in the chamber by the time I can finally move my fingers, then my whole hands, my arms, and legs. My wound is still bleeding, my healing powers nullified by the drug as much as the rest of my magic. Ephegos leans over my shaking body and whispers, “ Go, get some rest. We ’ ll start the next experiment tomorrow.”