28. Ayna
Ayna
“Fuck—”
We skid to a halt, Herinor almost losing his grasp on the female bouncing over his shoulder as he throws up a fresh shield. “You could say so.”
Kaira’s corporeal voice hits me in the chest like a ball of fire, and every last bit of hope gutters as I find her at the front of the group in the tight hold of a Flame male who’s pressing a sword to her throat. Bastard.
“ What the fuck happened?” I send my question out before I allow myself to identify the leader of the group and let them intimidate me with a look. I don’t search for the others either, just yet. For a heartbeat, I wait for information. Herinor is a seasoned fighter. He knows how to figure out rank and order in a group of opponents like that way faster.
“ It was a trap.” I can’t turn away when Kaira whimpers into my mind. “ The fairies, the estate. It ’ s all a trap.”
For a long breath, I believe that Recienne set us up, that he used Clio to lead us into an ambush; then I spot the female behind the male who’s restraining Kaira. Like liquid copper, her braid bleeds over the forearm of the Flame, locking her back to his chest. He’s at least a head taller than her and at least as broad as Herinor.
“Welcome to the party, little Wolayna.”
I know the voice. Have had nightmares about it. So polite and collected yet dripping hatred with every drawn-out vowel.
“Erina.” I spot him next to Clio, right next to the two Flames grasping Silas by his shoulders and arms. His wrists are bound behind his back—to keep him from using his hatchet or his magic, I can’t tell—and his head is hung, a curtain of dark hair blocking out the view of his features. He could be unconscious by the way his captors are struggling to keep upright.
“What a coincidence, dove.” The expression on Erina’s face tells me nothing about this is a coincidence.
He smooths out the front of his sepia uniform jacket, playing with one of the golden buttons at the top of the double row. With his polished boots, clean pants, beard groomed to perfection, and hair cropped short, he’s a vision of control and deadliness. Not in the way the fae and fairies are. His power doesn’t run in his veins. It’s not in his build or his sword. Erina Latroy Jelnedyn is King of Tavras. He commands an army ready to destroy Askarea and hunt Myron and me to the ends of this realm.
I try not to quake with fear as he gestures to the daggers in my bloodied hands. “It doesn’t bode well for a king’s wife to fight with a blade, Wolayna.” His smirk is that of a man who has a group of bullies at his beck and call to do his dirty work. Only, those bullies are Fire Fairies, and they have two of my friends and my sister under their control. “In fact, a king’s wife shouldn’t fight at all.”
“I’m not your wife ,” I spit at him, ready to remind him with words and blade that no part of me belongs to him.
“ Be careful, Ayna. Don ’ t let him goad you.”
Taking my sister’s advice, I force down a slow breath. Sweat beads my forehead and neck, my arms tired from fighting and my legs shaking from strain and terror.
“ What does he want? Why is he here?” The more information I get before reacting to Erina the better.
Beside me, Herinor is still frozen, sword at the ready as if he was going to strike. Around us, his shield tightens and thickens, a layer strong enough to hold off the fire of the Flames.
“ I don ’ t know,” Kaira admits. “ One moment, we were sneaking down to help you; the next, we were being dragged into the clearing. He was waiting here with the Flames.”
That doesn’t sound good. Erina was waiting for us. He knew we’d come for the fairies. Well, perhaps not we exactly, but he knew someone would come. Fairies, Crows. It doesn’t seem to matter to him as long as he has more magic wielders on whom he can test his weapons. I’m surprised they haven’t attacked us with the magic-subduing drug yet .
“ Did he take your powers away?” It’s the only question I should be asking.
Kaira rolls her head an inch in a silent no. “ Didn ’ t have time yet.”
With a quick scan of the Flames, I reassure myself there are no syringes in anyone’s hands and find it easier to breathe when I don’t spot any.
“Wife, fiancée… Does it really matter when you’ll end up mine anyway?” Erina says when I don’t say anything else. “You’ve caused quite a fuss, Wolayna.” The reprimand in his tone makes my blood boil, makes me want to scream my hatred at him.
I ’ m not yours. I won ’ t be yours. I don ’ t even want to breathe the same air as you. I don’t scream the words at him, though, keeping Kaira’s warning in mind. Erina wants something, and the clearer I can keep my head, the better. If I manage to buy some time, Myron will be at our side, his power ready to blast Erina out of this world.
“ Not as long as we ’ re standing at the center of the group,” Kaira points out, and I realize only then that something is wrong.
“ Clio—” My head whips to the female, meeting her gaze of solid jade.
If no one took her magic away, she should be able to site-hop out of there.
The princess of Askarea stares me down, clear warning in her eyes.
“ Where is Royad?” Snapping my attention back to Kaira, I scan the clearing .
No sign of the Crow male. Not even a feather.
“ He managed to get away before they got us.”
Good, at least one of us is safe. And Myron…
I can’t even begin to fight the terror of what will happen when he realizes we’ve been betrayed—again.
“ Did Clio ? —”
“ Shhhh. Focus.” Kaira shoots me a sharp look just in time for me to hear Erina’s next sentence.
“I have to admit, my court was in upheaval for a day or two when they figured out the Milevishja princess had disappeared.”
“So, you sent your bloodhounds after me?”
Herinor’s grumble of warning is too late. The words are out.
“My bloodhounds?” Erina laughs while the Flames all stand at attention, awaiting his order to fire those growing balls of flame at us. “Come on, Wolayna. I don’t need bloodhounds. You, better than anyone, must know I’ll always find you.” He leans forward as if sharing a secret, and the hairs at the back of my neck stand erect at the thought that he just used the exact same words Myron once used. I ’ ll always find you. “I found you on the ocean. I found you at Fort Perenis. I found you after your time at the Crow court was over. And I found you here .”
Beside me, Herinor stands so still I am not sure he’s even breathing, his muscles taut and his features tight. I don’t know what to do. Don’t know if I should negotiate for the others’ freedom or draw upon that restless well of magic in my veins.
“ Shall we fight?” Asking Kaira’s opinion is the only thing I can think of. “ Forty against five of us… The odds aren ’ t in our favor. ”
“ Plus Silas got a hit to his head,” Kaira adds, “ I ’ m not certain he could fight if he wanted to.”
Behind us, something crashes inside the estate, screams following with a blood-stilling shrillness that allows me to believe it’s not Myron who’s fighting for his life but the Flames who confronted us. As long as he’s safe, I can play Erina’s game.
“What do you want?” It’s time to lay out the cards, learn why he’s hunted us down. If he’s even hunted us specifically.
Tilting his head, Erina glances from Clio to Silas, then back to me, stepping through the front row of Flames, careful not to touch them. “You didn’t think you could escape my hand, did you?”
So, he has been looking for me .
“It’s time to return to Meer and take your place at my side.”
“Over my dead body.” My voice trembles as pure rage wells up inside of me.
Eyes on the swaying treetops closest to the estate, Erina takes another step toward me. Fifteen paces lie between us. That’s the same distance as Herinor and I had to cross to escape the Flames inside the entrance hall. We made it there.
Out here, we won’t make it anywhere. Erina doesn’t need to voice the threat to know Kaira, Clio, and Silas will pay if I refuse.
“Don’t even think about it,” Herinor growls. He’s not supposed to help me, but it wouldn’t prevent him from considering saving my family and friends. “Myron will kill me if you?—”
“That’s not your choice to make.” I cut him off before he can make me feel guilty.
The shield he’s still projecting swallows our words, but it doesn’t keep out Erina’s as he continues. “Your dead body won’t be very useful for making a few heirs, dove.” He is halfway between the Flames and Herinor’s shield now, fingers not even close to the blade at his hip. At his feet, a gust of wind stirs dry leaves and blades of grass, carrying it toward the waiting Flames. They settle on the boots and leather armor of the soldiers while Erina’s clothes remain impeccably clean like he has a shield of his own.
“What do you say, dove. Will you come willingly?” A glance over his shoulder is enough for the closest Flame to direct their fireball at Kaira’s chest. My sister locks eyes with me, imperceptibly shaking her head.
“ You ’ re the rightful queen of Tavras. You won ’ t yield.”
Scraping his fingers over his beard, Erina turns back to me, a false smile on his lips. “I’m waiting, dove.”
Dove. My stomach threatens to turn at the mere thought of what Erina has planned for my future, how he’s using the people I love against me.
“Your friends here will make a great addition to my court if you come willingly. I’ll allow them to live—without their magic, of course—and they shall resume their service as your servants. The two females had been delightful handmaidens if I recall correctly.” He doesn’t even look at them now, so sure of himself and his claim. “And the male can become a foot soldier in my army. We’ll soon bolster their ranks with the likes of him.”
“The males ,” I correct, “won’t ever lift a finger to fight on your side. ”
That costs Erina a laugh. “Maybe not the one behind me, but that one—” He points at Herinor, who’s still standing like he doesn’t know if he should abandon me or stand by my side. “The male will cut off his own hand before he helps you. He’ll kill himself before ensuring your freedom.”
He’s not wrong. Herinor will die if he tries to help me directly, and then there is little he can do once he’s dead.
“I will not?—”
“It’s all right,” I stop Herinor before he can attempt a lie. We both know lies are beyond his capabilities, and we both know where the deal with Ephegos leaves him.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Silas’s hand twitch. His head is still lowered, but a new tension has entered his shoulders even as he’s leaning on the Flame soldiers to hold him.
He’s faking. And so is Clio. I don’t know what they’re waiting for, but they are ready to attack from where they stand.
“ Forty against five is madness,” I say to Kaira, who must know what they’re up to.
My sister shakes her head, resolve streaming through our bond.
“Last chance, Wolayna.” Erina lifts a hand, and I hold my breath, steeling myself for the onslaught of fire that will surely come … and blink with surprise when half of the Flames march off toward the estate.
No.
No!
Myron is there. He’s fighting a few Flames on his own and will be here soon. He’ll come for us, back up Herinor, Silas, Clio, and Kaira. He’ll draw his blade at my side, and together, we’ll send Erina to an early grave?—
The Flames are rounding Herinor and me, not heeding us a look, but I can sense the attention of the others as they keep aiming at us. One wrong movement and we’re history.
“Don’t worry, dove.” Erina comes even closer. Either he doesn’t have a sense of self-preservation, or he delights in walking a thin line at the edge of what’s healthy for him.
A few more paces and he’ll be within reach. If I leap, I could surprise him and cut open his throat.
The Flames have almost reached the corner; a few more steps and they’ll be out of sight—and so will we. If I’m quick?—
It happens so fast I can barely comprehend it.
Clio disappears from her captor’s grasp, popping up behind the last row of Flames and snapping a soldier’s neck. At the same moment, Silas grabs for the swords of the two Flames holding him up, nothing more than a flash of dark black hair and leathers. They aren’t fast enough to prevent him from cutting into their sides just below their ribs, and they lose balance, cursing and toppling to the ground where they soak the grass crimson.
Chaos breaks loose as Kaira joins them, stealing a fireball from one of the Flames. She might not be able to create her own fire, but apparently, she can hijack that of another. With a jerk of her hand, she sends the fire sailing into the Flame next to her.
Arrows are flying from a nearby tree—Royad. Thank the Guardians, he didn’t leave us to our fate .
As if on a signal, Herinor unfreezes, but he doesn’t go for Erina’s throat. It’s me who darts for the Tavrasian king, dagger raised and aiming for the side of his neck.
Wide-eyed, Erina stares at me, frozen in shock or anticipation of death, I don’t care. All I care about is that no one stops me as I drive my blade through skin, cartilage, tendons, and bone.
At least, that’s what I expect when my blade slices into him, but there is no resistance. I don’t collide with the Tavrasian King, don’t land on top of him with a scream of victory on my tongue. No, I land face-first in the grass, tasting earth and blood as my lip splits open at the impact. Someone screams my name, and I want to answer, but the breath is knocked out of me yet again as a heavy weight lands on top of me, smashing me face-first into the grass.
I writhe beneath the knees pushing into my spin, bucking to throw off the attacker until I’m able to lift my head enough to spot brown gloves that belong to Flame armor instead of Erina’s manicured fingers. “Ayna!” Clio’s voice shrills across the clearing, but it’s a cry for help rather than one of war.
Somewhere in the turmoil of flying fireballs and glinting swords, Clio needs my help.
Terror grasps me in a vise as I spot Silas at the edge of the battle, leathers ripped open on his thigh, revealing a gashing wound. He’s unstable on his legs, but he keeps fighting with hatchet and magic, keeping the two Flames coming for him again and again at bay. I don’t have time to look for Herinor and Kaira; the Flame on my back pushes his knee down on my neck so hard I think it might snap.
Magic. I need to use my magic. For my sword had been ripped from my grasp when Erina disappeared—or I simply flew through him like through a hallucination.
Streaks of silver collect behind my eyelids as I call to my power, but when I try to release a hazardous blow like the one that saved me in the Seeing Forest, a sharp sting in my neck makes me cry out with pain.
No.
No-no-no-no-no.
Not now. Not the drug.
It takes about fifteen heartbeats before the numbing sensation of the magic-sedating serum sets in.
No, please, no. I need to get to my feet, need to push the Flame off my back and fucking get up so I can fight. So I can protect my family.
On my shoulder, my tattoo tingles as if in question.
I need you, Myron. I send the thought out into the world even if he can’t hear me. Maybe the connection of our mate mark will call to him the way it’s always called to him.
And where the fuck is Erina? He can’t simply have vanished into thin air?
My vision is swimming, but the polished boots stopping in front of me are all I need to see to know he’s right there. That he never left.
Or he was never truly here.
The grass doesn’t bend under his weight, and the dry leaves carried on a breeze don’t touch him. They float straight through him just like my dagger did.
I’m hallucinating because this can’t possibly be true .
As if reading my mind, Erina crouches down in front of me, tapping his fingers against his knee. “You really should have taken my offer, Wolayna. I would have taken you home and left things be. But you leave me no choice.”
No choice. No choice. The words ring in my ears like a promise of doom as Erina nods over my head at the Flame holding me down.
“Since you won’t comply otherwise, I’ll need to eradicate all traces of the one thing that keeps standing between us.”
“You mean you and your delusions of grandeur?” I spit at his feet. “You’ll never rule Askarea, Erina. You’ll never rule Eherea. You’ll never find anyone who loves you. You’ll die bitter and alone even if you force someone to marry you and give you heirs.”
The ire in Erina’s gaze tells me I’ve hit home.
“Burn him out of her.” His order is brief, dismissive, as he pushes back to his feet and stalks a few steps away, observing from a distance.
I can see it now; the little flaws in the picture. He avoided touching anyone when he stood between the Flames, made sure to not even brush their shoulders or ends of their braids. He’s not real, but not a figment of my imagination either.
“ A projection,” Kaira whispers in my mind as if she’s been following my entire thought process from afar.
A projection.
I don’t have time to ponder the meaning when rough hands tear the right sleeve off my arm then rip open the back of my leathers.
“What do you mean, burn him out ?” I barely finish the question in more than a whisper when a flash of orange light glows behind my shoulder .
Someone screams, a ripple going through the fight still raging behind the Tavrasian king, and the world seems to hold its breath.
Hands secure my wrists at my sides with iron strength as I thrash in anticipation of whatever new horror Erina has come up with, but I’m not prepared for this. I could never be prepared for this .
Fire erupts on my skin, eating into the flesh on my right shoulder as a torch is pressed into the inked bird connecting me to Myron.
I can’t breathe-can’t-breathe-can’t-breathe. Pain like I’ve never experienced rakes through me, rushing down my arm, battering through my chest, wrecking my heart, my soul, my everything.
Everything that I am is connected to that bird … and the male it stands for.
“ Myron ,” I huff his name when all I want is to scream at the top of my lungs. But there’s no air left.
I can feel the tattoo melt under the weight of the smoldering torch, can feel it dissolve into tears of black ink until they’re spilling from my eyes.
Until I’m crying the sorrow of the world.
“ No— ”
No one hears my protest. No one feels me burning.
I’m alone.
And where a bright, glowing connection once represented my bond with my mate, absolute, solid darkness falls.