38. Myron
Myron
Strong wingbeats sound from in front of me, but it’s the more quiet, cautious ones beside me I listen for as I circle the dead land at the borders of the human territory. Ayna has been doing incredibly well, not once faltering despite the long distance we’ve been flying. It’s the second day of our search. Silas and Royad have split off to head west and east while Herinor, Ayna, and I fly directly south, scouting the center of the Plithian Plains.
So far, it’s been mainly horses and a shed here and there, but as time progresses, we spot more farm villages along the dusty roads.
After Clio spent a few minutes lamenting the leathers Ayna made disappear with her shift, she site-hopped us right to the Tavrasian border so we wouldn’t need to fly the entire way from Aceleau. We’ve been searching ever since, making sure to stay on schedule to return at the pick-up spot on the third day so Clio can take us back.
In the meantime, Recienne and Tori are strategizing how to best prepare an army of creatures used to fighting with the aid of their magic without it. It’s not a task I envy them. At least, Tata is there to speak to the soldiers as one of their own with first-hand experience.
I’m still in shock about Recienne’s reaction to Ayna finding out about the Fairy Queen’s pregnancy, and I’m even more surprised about how excited I am for the male I used to despise. Younglings are so rare among fairies, and Crow younglings haven’t been around since I was a little one myself. I can’t even fathom what it would be like to have one of my own.
A tear runs through my chest as I glance at Ayna in her proud bird form, gliding on the winds. She’s made for this. Shaelak had mercy on me and gifted her this sort of magic so she no longer needs to miss the oceans. But will we be happy like Recienne and his queen? Will we live long enough to find out?
We’ve been scanning the territory for two days now, my chest constricting every time something moves on the ground below and relief filling me every time it wasn’t the army we’ve been looking for.
The sun is setting slowly, creeping toward the edge of the world as I make out the silhouette of a dark mass that doesn’t belong in the Plithian Plains slowly winding along the seam of a small forest. There they are, hiding in plain sight.
I huff a caw Herinor will instantly understand. He takes off slightly west, following my order while Ayna flutters closer to my side as if in a prompt to fill her in.
She doesn’t notice them at first. Only when we make it a mile farther west does she realize the dark stripe on the horizon isn’t merely the layers of a forest. Soldiers—hundreds of them if not thousands have gathered along the seam of trees by the farm village. They’ve put up tents and ignited fires.
The mere thought of those makes me wonder how many Fire Fairies have joined Erina’s army. And how many Crows.
My gaze darts ahead to the treetops. A perfect spot to hide a flock of Crow sentries.
With a deep caw, I order Herinor back to my side.
We found them. Now we need to return to warn the others. Silas and Royad will return soon enough when they don’t find anything. We’ll wait for Clio to come get us and carry the information to the King of Askarea that an army large enough to take on his fairy legions is readying, and if they get the magic-nullifying weapon, there will be no winning this war.
When we land by the Askarean border hours later, Clio is already pacing beneath the trees, her copper braid a strip of fire in the near darkness. Royad is hopping from tree to tree in bird form, keeping a look out for Silas and us .
When he spots us, he descends, feathers disappearing into leathers as his form uncoils into his human shape.
I follow his lead, waiting for Ayna to be close enough to the ground before I shift and hold out my hand for her to land upon.
Her feathers fall over my fingers as she curls her claws around them, one black eye studying me curiously.
“Time to shift, little Crow,” I whisper, ignoring Clio’s rant that we really don’t have time for fae-bird pillow talk.
A shudder runs through her body, claws slipping and wings elongating into arms as her whole body stretches until she’s her beautiful, human self again. My other arm catches her under the knees so I can cradle her to my chest, shielding her naked form from view.
“Catch!” Herinor calls, tossing me a bundle of fabric, which I shake out and drape over Ayna’s shoulders as I set her on her feet.
“Three leathers in two days,” I tease, holding her gaze as she shrugs as if the way our bodies are pressed together, the rough leather of my chest protector, isn’t scraping along her bare breasts. As if I can’t smell her physical reaction to me.
Gods, I would kill for that scent.
“Clio looks positively murderous.” With efficient movements, Ayna slides into the shirt from Herinor’s extra supplies and buttons it up to her collarbones. “She nearly bit my head off when she had to summon new clothes for me yesterday. Next time, I’ll just shift naked.”
The thought does all sorts of things to the lower regions of my stomach, but I blow out a breath, clearing my head and reluctantly releasing her from my embrace .
“We found them,” I say the moment Royad and Silas join us, their shifts quick and unspectacular, yet my heart will never fail to lift a fraction when I see all feathers vanish from their arms and their eyes clear to their normal colors.
Royad is at my side in an instant, Clio right behind him, the frown first directed at the lack of Ayna’s clothing now hitting me.
“How many?” In her mind, she’s already calculating the odds, I’m sure. I’ve never met a female fiercer and better equipped for battle than Princess Cliophera of Askarea, and the gods are kind enough to put us on the same side of a war for once.
“So far? About a thousand men.” Hearing it out loud from Herinor is worse than seeing the black mass gathering in the plains. “They seem to have only started to arrive. Tavras is a large territory, so there could be ten times that within a few weeks.”
“You think they are drafting all legions to the Plithian Plains?” Ayna rolls the sleeves of her shirt up until they no longer cover her hands. “And how many Flames are there to join them? How many Crows?”
I refuse to cringe at the mention of my own kind partnering with the enemy. They’ve made their choice.
“Kaira said five hundred Flames, maybe six hundred.” Herinor has obviously used the time spent with the part-Flame wisely and collected information. “She says their strength is ranged weapons.”
“And swordfight, of course,” Clio adds .
Herinor nods. “With those Shaelak-damned silver pokers, yes.” He glances to his hip as if expecting one of said swords hangs on his belt and shakes his head. “Their magic is dangerous since anything flammable continues to burn once it catches fire.” Unlike our magic where the silver light can gut a person or blow up a structure, but it doesn’t continue to sizzle once it’s hit its target. He doesn’t need to say that.
I can feel Ayna’s gaze on the side of my face as she leans against the closest tree, questions pressing in on the narrow space between us, but I don’t dare look to find out what they are. She saw the unadulterated power flowing out of me when they tried to un-mate her, and I don’t know if I can deal with the fear in her eyes. So, I focus on Herinor. One thing at a time.
“We don’t know how many of the traitor Crows fell in the battle in the Seeing Forest, but we can expect about a hundred to stand with Ephegos.” I’ve done the calculations several times, and no matter how I twist and turn the numbers, they won’t get any smaller.
Clio dips her chin. “Are they with the army in the plains?”
“That’s something we couldn’t verify without exposing ourselves.” Clio is a smart fairy. She understands exactly how difficult it is to sneak up on an army in an open field, even in our bird form.
Tugging a buckle of her leathers in place, Clio glances west. “Now we need a map and some figurines, and then we’ll wait for the rebels to send word.”
Without another sound, she holds out her hands and spirits us away.