17. Ayna
Ayna
When Clio picks us up half an hour later, my body is still tingling with lingering pleasure, and the cocky grin on Myron’s face makes me wonder if this is the same brooding male I met all those months ago. It’s a good look on him, though, seeing him with something other than worry or anger defining his features.
I loop my arm through his, savoring the closeness while simultaneously wondering when I’ll get to return the favor and sit him down in that exact same chair to?—
“ Don ’ t want to hear it,” Kaira interrupts my thought before I can get to the interesting part of how exactly I want to—“ Really, don’t want to hear it, Ayna,” she repeats, flashing me a glance that is as unreadable as the ones she’s been shooting Herinor since he put on those fancy fairy clothes Recienne’s court provided.
“ I wasn ’ t aware I was leaking thoughts,” I respond in my mind, wondering when exactly the training Astorian has been giving us will kick in. He hasn’t taught us much apart from how to cut off mental intrusion by forming a shield around the mind the way we would around our bodies, but I never learned how to physically shield, unlike Kaira, who seems to have a naturally built-in wall when it comes to her thoughts.
Perhaps training with Clio will help me master both sorts of protection.
“ You were practically screaming your romantic plans at me,” she retorts, and part of me is glad Astorian isn’t around to witness what my head can’t stop thinking about. Myron’s cock in my—“ For fuck ’ s sake, Ayna. Stop it.”
An involuntary giggle escapes my mouth, earning me confused glances from the Crow males and our human companions.
“ Just because you haven ’ t had fun with the Crow warrior of your choice doesn ’ t mean my thoughts about my mate need to be chaste.”
That gives her pause for a moment, but a hint of something shimmers through our connection that gives me an idea of how little chastity her own mind knows when it comes to Herinor. She slams down her shield so fast I don’t get to see if those are memories or daydreams, and almost bumps into the male walking in front of us.
Herinor stops in his tracks, hand on the hilt of his sword, spinning around so fast he ends up at a foot’s distance from the Flame, and I try not to chuckle at both of their surprised faces as Herinor realizes no one is attacking him, and Kaira scrambles to get out of his proximity.
“ Still haven ’ t made up your mind if you want him?” I tease, keeping my face straight after all, but Kaira steps around the Crow, joining Clio at the front of the group, asking questions about the glimmering stone the palace is made of instead of deigning to respond to me.
I turn my attention back to Herinor just in time to catch him exchanging a glance of exasperation with Silas, who is shaking his head at him.
Whatever is going on between Kaira and him, they better figure it out.
“Recienne is waiting for us in the dining hall,” Clio informs us, leading the way past the throne room to a set of carved, wooden double doors framed by a pair of fairies in black leathers. Whether they are palace guards, military, or the king’s personal guards, I can’t tell. “I spent the time you took to get ready to remind him of why we’re all here and that old grievances have no place in this gathering.” Her gaze lands on Royad, moving from Crow to Crow until it ends up on Myron as we stop right by the door. “We are no longer enemies. You all would do well to remember, too.”
She’s my friend. Of course, she isn’t my enemy, but I can see the tightness in the Crows’ shoulders as they nod one by one, Myron the last of the group to add his agreement.
“We have a past that makes alliances difficult, yet I’ve come to call you my friend.” Astorian appears from the side corridor, clothed in black finery that makes him appear every bit the courtier even with his warrior’s body. There’s the look again—the same one they exchanged when we saved the male from his cell in Erina’s dungeon.
Find one, find both, Myron said to Astorian then. This time, the conversation is wordless as Myron nods at him like they’ve been to Eroth’s Veil and back together.
Astorian returns the nod, a faint smile on his lips. “Just remember that when you speak with Recienne tonight.”
Without another explanation, he opens the door with one hand, taking Clio’s with the other, and together they lead the way into a marble-tiled room with a long oak table large enough to host twenty or more guests. The skirts and long, wide sleeves of Clio’s jade chiffon dress billow like on a phantom wind as the two fairies make their way down to the head of the table where King Recienne is lounging in the largest chair, surveying the room.
His gold eyes scan our party with a flicker of amusement, snagging on the two humans and lingering there for a while as he takes in Andraya’s older features.
“Please, sit.” With a wide gesture of his arm, he invites us to join him, and a part of me recognizes the danger he poses, even when so expertly hidden behind a nonchalant veneer. This is the king who kept the Crows in check, won a war against them, locked them up in a forest?—
I stop myself right there at a stern glance from Astorian. Whether he heard my thoughts or not, he sees right through me.
“How about Myron and you take the chairs next to the King,” he suggests, motioning for us to join them at the head of the table where he and Clio are sitting down to Recienne’s right, leaving the two chairs to the Fairy King’s left free for us.
The reluctance in Myron’s steps is obvious as I slide my hand into his, guiding him to our intended seats. Right by the end of the table, I stop, dipping my head an inch to demonstrate I have manners, then reach for the backrest of the chair closest to King Recienne to play buffer between the two kings in case they can’t behave themselves.
Before I can touch the hardwood, Myron’s hands are there, pulling the chair out for me, and I slide into it, guided by his invisible power caressing my back and circling around my waist. A shiver spiderwalks up my spine at the gentle sweep of magic, and I want to lean into him. It’s the most encouragement I’ll get from him that he’s on board with the situation and will do his best.
Not like I’m expecting anything different from the king who was ready to sacrifice himself and his own happiness for his people. He’ll do anything to stop Ephegos and Erina, even if it means forming alliances with a king who used to be his captor.
Once Myron is seated next to me, Royad and Silas sit down on Myron’s other side. Clio waves Andraya and Pouly over to sit on their side, across from the two Crows, leaving Herinor and Kaira the only ones standing.
Silas is quick to offer the Flame the chair next to him, and I could swear a growl is building in Herinor’s throat when Kaira follows the invitation.
However, Herinor remains on his feet the same way he did in Erina’s palace. The deja vu drives a shiver down my spine .
“Aren’t you going to sit?” King Recienne inquires, folding his hands in front of him on the edge of the table, his gaze on Herinor.
The latter shakes his head. “I’m not a noble. I’m a soldier.” As if that is any explanation, he stands behind Myron and me, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Recienne raises a brow while Astorian cocks his head and Clio rolls her eyes, but none of them object. The Fairy King merely raises a hand, flicking his fingers, and the doors swing shut on an invisible touch.
When I glance around, I notice there are no fairy guards stationed in this room. Whether that’s a good sign or a bad one remains to be seen. All I know is that Herinor will have our backs—at least Myron’s since his bargain with Ephegos is still in place and he can’t help me or he’ll pay with his own life.
Absolute silence falls, the humans not breathing and the Crows remaining unnaturally still as Recienne glances around the table, taking in his guests with those unreadable eyes, and my heart is ready to beat out of my chest.
Myron’s hand is on mine, fingertips turning into talons as he seems to be fighting his instinct to shift in the presence of an old enemy.
Only, he isn’t. King Recienne of Askarea is the brother of the fairy we saved. The friend of the general who suffered alongside the Crows in Erina’s dungeon. And these males are too proud or too scarred by their past to even look at each other like they could be stronger together.
Words build in my throat, but I can’t get myself to speak them. Even Kaira doesn’t comment on the many ways I want to call both kings cowards as they keep staring at each other like in a competition. Astorian’s warning glance at Myron has as little impact on the silence as Clio’s for her brother.
So, I pull together every last ounce of courage I have left after my last experience in a palace and address the Fairy King directly. “Your palace is even more impressive than I expected, Your Majesty. I particularly enjoy the choice of rocks for the walls. I mean, who else has a glimmering palace.”
Beside me, Myron has gone even more rigid, and Herinor takes a step closer toward his king, letting me believe he’s ready to throw himself in front of Myron should King Recienne smite me with his power and some of it might slip past and hit the Crow.
The Fairy King merely stares at me, but the corners of his lips lift in a hint of a smile.
“They’re from the quarry in the Hollow Mountains in the very south of Askarea, where the fairylands meet Tavras and Cezux.” His voice is as smooth as the first time he spoke, but there is more warmth in it, like he’s pleasantly surprised yet reluctant to show it.
“It’s beautiful,” Andraya chimes in, picking up on what I’m doing.
So is Kaira, who adds what Clio already shared with her in the hallway. “The Hollow Mountains have natural caves full of stalagmites; at least Princess Cliophera explained so to me. What I’d do to see those caves one day.”
“Stop calling me princess , and you might.” Clio snarks in the Flame’s direction, earning a raised brow from her brother .
“Is that how you make friends, Cliophera? Because if it is, I should try being less polite, and this palace might fill up with more unlikely allies in this pending war you’ve been talking about.”
I’m not certain if he’s serious, but the way Astorian is grinning tells me he’s not, only full of wit and humor that he prefers remaining undetected.
But the knot in my stomach eases, and I can breathe again as I realize this is not going to end up with any of us in a fairy dungeon.
Clio rolls her eyes, snapping her gaze to her brother. “This war I’ve been talking about will be knocking on our doors sooner than we care for if we don’t do something about it.” For a moment, I think he’s going to scold her for speaking to him like that, but his smile is genuine now, and the way it changes his face is a shock. He’s handsome—was handsome before—but this is the radiating beauty of a male who has it all. Confidence and power shine in every gesture, along with a well of unconditional love that reminds me of the bond Kaira and I share even when that of my sister and me is only starting to bloom.
His gaze snaps to mine as if he senses my scrutiny, eyes narrowing for a heartbeat. “I can see why my sister is so convinced that we need you at our side.”
“You mean the Crows,” I correct, and part of me wants to bite my tongue while the other part remembers I’m a queen in my own right—of two kingdoms. One without a crown.
Recienne shakes his head. “You, Wolayna. If you manage to keep a bunch of grumpy Crows under control, you are someone I want to call an ally. ”
Before any of the Crow males can object, he flashes them a placating smile. “No offense. But had I had this woman around a hundred years ago, I might have sent her in as a weapon instead of attempting to blow up your entire kingdom.”
Myron’s growl reverberates through the room, convincing me he’s ready to leap across the table and attack, so I grab his hand harder, putting on my sweetest smile.
“Well, I’m not a weapon, and my grandmother, who was around a hundred years ago, is no one you would have wanted to mess with, so we better leave the past in the past, agreeing that we’re all glad to be here, alive, and no more females need to be sacrificed to save the Crows.”
Recienne’s throat bobs.
“I don’t know where you’ve been living, but these Crows saved your sister, Your Majesty,” I roll on without any sense of self-preservation because, in my heart, I know Clio and Astorian would have never brought us here had they feared their king intended to harm us. “These Crows were cursed and tormented and robbed of all their chances to free themselves from a horrible fate because of the imprisonment you placed upon them.” I don’t even stop for breath, ignoring the horrified gazes Andraya and Pouly are giving me and the head-shake of warning from Kaira. “Myron’s father was the one you had the quarrel with, not Myron. He merely tried to save his people. And—knowingly or not—you did your best to keep him from ever succeeding. So, be grateful that he didn’t brush off your general and leave him behind in the dungeon. Be grateful for his willingness to forgive and cooperate to help that same male find his mate and bring her home.” My hands are shaking, but I can’t stop myself despite the knowledge that this will cost me—will potentially cost all of us. “Fucking be a male about it and say thank you so we can all move on.”
Someone takes a breath to interrupt me—or to respond—I don’t care. I’m not done.
“And you.” I whirl on Myron, clutching his claw hard to reassure myself he’s not yet readying himself to attack King Recienne or me for the way I’m pushing this meeting down the drain. “You can’t blame this king for protecting his kingdom from a people who have only brought misery to its females. You can’t blame him for not knowing about the curse when none of you were able to speak of it. He was doing the best he could to keep his people safe, and you were doing your best to save yours.”
Myron is staring at me like he’s never seen me before, and somewhere at the back of my mind, I know I should have long stopped speaking, that this might have been too much and one of the two kings will tear me to ribbons before or after they rip each other apart.
But whatever Myron is about to say or do is swallowed by the Fairy King’s laugh filling the momentary silence.
He laughs and laughs, not a hysterical sound, but one of true amusement, an infectious one that makes me want to smile even when I’m so upset I might fall apart at the seams, destroying the lovely blue and silver satin dress I’m wearing.
“Spoken like a true queen, Wolayna,” Recienne eventually says when Myron tenses to leap at him and Herinor draws his sword an inch, ready to back him up.