37. Ayna
Ayna
Tata is there when we arrive at the arena, her braid bobbing as she shakes her head at something Silas asks. I try not to notice Royad’s smirk or Herinor’s frown or the way Kaira seems to be eternally amused about whatever Herinor just grumbled to her.
At least, she’s not paying attention to us. Everyone else sure is, and I can’t help the feeling they all know exactly how close I was to ripping Myron’s towel off myself and doing exactly as Clio suggested a few days ago. Somehow, I’m under the impression they can smell it on me.
“We haven’t figured out shifting, so you all better get lost until we call you back.” Myron plants himself at the heart of the arena, shooting Herinor a deadly glance that would have sent lesser males running.
To his credit, Herinor inclines his head at his king before gesturing for Kaira to walk ahead of him and following. Royad raises a brow at Myron as he walks out next, leaving Silas and Tata the only ones dwelling.
“You, too, Silas.” Myron doesn’t even look at him, gaze wandering to Tata instead and tone softening. “Apologies, Tata, but I need you to leave, too. I want this to be a safe place when my mate shifts.”
Tata inclines her head, but a question lingers on her tongue—I can tell by the way her eyes bounce between Silas, Myron, and me.
“What is it, Tata?” I eventually ask.
Tata gives me an embarrassed look. “I’ve never seen a Crow shift. The older fairies keep telling stories about the fearsome monsters shifting into feathered coats, but I wasn’t old enough to fight in the last Crow War.”
A part of me believes that’s good news. At least, she never knew the Crows for the creatures most fairies feared. At least, not in person.
“You’re welcome to return and watch as we all shift later,” Silas offers, but something inside of me pushes to tell her to stay.
“I’ve never shifted deliberately. I might not even be able to, but you’re welcome to stay, Tata,” I explain as we wait for a grumbling Silas to leave on his own.
Myron claps his hands, obviously not happy about the audience, but doesn’t comment, accepting my wish. “You can sit over there,” he tells her. “Don’t disturb us, though. Crows in bird form rely on their instincts more than in our fae form. If you startle a new Crow and she takes flight, she might take off and never return.”
I hope he’s only saying that to frighten her because, chances are, if that’s the worst case, exactly that will happen to me.
When Myron turns to face me, a smile graces his lips, and his gaze is warm and tender in a way that gives me a fuzzy feeling. “Don’t fly away, little crow,” he whispers as he holds out both his hands for me.
With a sense of nervous anticipation, I place mine in them, waiting for instructions.
“How did you shift the first time?”
His question takes me by surprise, and I’m not prepared for the images of horror flooding my head.
“I don’t know. It happened when I begged the gods for a way to save you.” It’s a dim memory, Myron’s blood coating the metal table in Erina’s dungeon, the knife at my arm, the pain… So much pain.
“How did you change back?”
Herinor’s firm but gentle hands wrapped around my little bird body, imagining my human form. Willing myself back into it…
“Think of the wind beneath your wings, Ayna. Think of freedom.”
That’s the opposite of what I experienced the last time I shifted. “Freedom is something I haven’t known for a long time. ”
The words hurt. Perhaps even more so because they are true.
Myron squeezes my hands, strong fingers enveloping mine, and steps up so close we’re chest to chest. “You’re free, Ayna. No matter what bonds may hold you, you’re always free to make a choice.”
I feel it then, the question whether I’d prefer to sever our bond, to do as Clio tried with Tori. Do you want me to let you go, Ayna?
It’s only when I tilt my head to meet his gaze that I realize he spoke those words out loud. And in his eyes, the world is holding his breath.
I don’t have words to tell him, so I grasp his hands harder, holding onto him with all that I have, and a cautious smile spreads on his lips. “Then shift with me, Ayna. Fly with me. Be free with me.”
I feel the tingle in my chest first, then my arms. My legs follow, falling away from me as they turn into small bird feet. Feet with wicked claws that could scratch out eyes and open arteries. My torso is light, small, and airy, as are my arms as I try to keep my hold on Myron. Feathers slip over feathers, our wings coming apart as we beat them to remain mid-air. Magic pulses in my veins, smaller and weaker than in my human form, but it fills me beak to claw.
He was right. Instincts rule my bird form. I need to move; remaining stagnant is dangerous even if I’m a predator. With a few efficient beats of my wings, I’m up in the air, high above the arena. Tata sits on the side of the angled structure at the foot of the stone benches, staring up at me with wide dark eyes. It amazes me that I can see such detail from so high up, but it doesn’t surprise me. Those senses are part of me the way the wings are and the tiny heart pumping my blood in frantic beats.
This body is breakable but fast, vulnerable but light. I’m the eyes and the ears of the sky, and a few feet above me, another crow is circling, this one larger, feathers so black they swallow the light of the sun hiding behind clouds. He caws at me, the sound familiar yet foreign. A part of me wonders if I could understand him if I tried hard enough, but then I see something move on the ground. It’s smaller than me, and fast.
I’m faster.
I’m death wrapped in feathers, and my claws rip into the mouse a heartbeat before it skitters through the gap between two rocks. Victory makes my blood gush through my veins in a frenzy, and I want to take my trophy to the skies, but I’m not fast enough to pull up as the wall approaches at neck-breaking speed, and I have to resort to bracing myself for the impact— impacts— when I first hit the stone enclosing the arena, then the ground, and roll to a halt.
Someone shouts my name, heavy footfalls shaking the packed earth I’m lying on. I’m shaking. My wings at first, then my legs, then my shoulders and my torso. My arms, my hands.
“Myron,” I croak, still breathless from the crash.
He skids to a halt beside me, on his knees again as he scoops me up in his arms.
“I’m all right,” I tell him .
He doesn’t believe me until I wriggle out of his grasp, scrambling to my own two feet and cursing as I realize my clothes are gone.
“Damn it.”
With two quick moves, Myron peels off his jacket and strips out of his shirt, offering it to me.
“Clio will kill me.” I’m not half as embarrassed about Tata seeing me naked as I am about what Clio will say when she realizes she will need to get new leathers for me after all.
When I dare glance at him, Myron shoots me a wicked grin. “The good news is you shifted in and out of your bird form.”
“What’s the bad news?”
He raises both brows as if to ask whether that isn’t obvious.
“That I’m naked?”
“I wouldn’t count that as bad news,” his grin widens. “At least, not for me.”
Groaning my frustration, I tug the shirt over my head and roll my eyes. “So, what’s the bad news?”
Myron turns his head, glancing at the entrance to the arena. “That I will need to start a new war, hurting the King of Askarea for having seen my mate naked.
He’s obviously joking because Recienne doesn’t summon his power to destroy him as he steps into the arena, clapping his hands. “That went faster than expected. And your wound is looking much better, Ayna. Did you notice?”
Myron grinds his teeth but doesn’t draw his sword or wield his silver power .
“I’m happily mated, Myron. Hold your feathers.” Recienne laughs at his own joke, but he can’t fool me anymore after meeting his mate this morning and realizing he’s just as much a protective shit as any other fairy male.
Folding my arms across my chest, I stand at Myron’s side. Of course, Myron’s gaze lingers on my shoulder, where not one tug or numb place remains. I don’t want to look if it’s all healed. Askarean fairies can lie after all and I’m not ready to be disappointed, but I cock my head, staring the golden-eyed male down with bravado. “You’ll make for an interesting father.”
Recienne stops dead, all masks slipping as he puts two and two together. “When did you meet her?”
“We had breakfast together this morning.”
The confused expression on Myron’s face would have been amusing had this not been a moment I realize that, with everything going on, I forgot to share this knowledge with him. Shame fills me from head to toe. We might not be exactly where we were two weeks ago, but I don’t want to leave him in the dark. I don’t want him to be taken by surprise in front of someone he has such a complicated history with. I don’t want him to look weak.
On instinct, I grab Myron’s hand, ignoring the sizzle running up my arm when his palm slides against mine.
“I forgot to tell you since you put other things on my mind when I returned from my little walk.” Myron stiffens, but he doesn’t say a word, thumb brushing over the back of my palm. “I ran into the Fairy Queen. She’s with child.”
For a long moment, the air is palpably thick with questions, with warnings and unspoken threats .
Myron swallows then smiles. A real smile. “Congratulations.”
When I think Recienne is going to combust, he finally inclines his head. “Thank you, Myron. The Guardians have blessed Sanja and me with this pregnancy. It’s a secret for no one to tell.” He glances at Tata, who sits quietly where she was ordered, probably wishing she’d left with the others. “Not one word,” he warns.
“Not one word, Your Majesty.” Tata stands from the rock she is sitting on and lowers herself to one knee. “I swear.”
Recienne seems satisfied since he turns back to us. “My secret lies in your feathery hands, Myron. I would ask a promise of you to never share this information with a soul, but I will make this moment the start of our true alliance instead. I trust you with this knowledge, fully aware that you could sell me out and make my mate and my unborn child a target in this war. Whoever threatens them, threatens me. Whoever takes her and uses her against me will own this kingdom. I will give up everything before I lose her. I will die before I see her harmed. And now you’re carrying this responsibility with you.” His eyes wander from Myron to me, gold hard and piercing. “And you, Ayna of Tavras. I trust you, too.”