39. Ayna
Ayna
The endless sparkling of the palace can get annoying when my vision is already exhausted from staring into the distance for hours with my Crow eyes. But when I close them to tune out the colorful blend, images of the undefined accumulation of darkness fills my head.
An army of over a thousand. Flames and Crows and humans. If they get the magic-sedating weapon, there is no telling how this will end.
The scent of white roses and sweet apples fills the dining room where Recienne is awaiting us with Tori and Kaira, poring over a sprawling map of Eherea, heads tucked together as if they are planning a conspiracy of their own .
“Where did you say the rebels are hiding?” Kaira prompts, drawing her finger along the trees illustrated in the northeast of Tavras.
“In a small village along the southern edge of the plains.” Clio doesn’t turn her attention away from where she’s shifting figurines of fairies back and forth along the Askarean border.
Dead land burned by the Flames has been marked with an overlay of red color Tori magicked onto the map to highlight where we can fight without the risk of our surroundings going up in flames, but the goal is not to fight at all—for as long as we can avoid open battle, we’ll do it. Lives lost on both sides is something to be prevented for as long as possible.
I lean back in my chair, pulling on the shirt Herinor provided and which I’m still wearing. I put on a pair of pants Clio offered when we arrived at the palace, but apart from that, I’m still the wind-torn creature who shifted in Myron’s arms.
My mate sits next to me, his thigh close enough to brush mine if I move a few inches, but he doesn’t push the contact. He’s leaning back in his chair, observing Tori working on the map and how it changes with highlights and markers whenever someone throws in a new fact, an idea, or merely a concern. By the time this war is over, it will be a piece of art documenting the brutal efficiency of the fairy general’s planning.
I gave my report on everything I spotted earlier, but I’m not leaving when the future of both realms hangs in the balance, no matter how exhausted I am .
Flying for two full days with no prior experience or practice was a bit optimistic. My body is a battlefield of sore muscles and aching bones, too limp to sit up straight in my chair, so I mimic Myron’s posture, my eyes the only part of me moving. When all this is over, I’ll take a long, hot bath.
“Any news from their side?” Royad prompts. After hours of sitting patiently, he’s gotten to his feet, pacing the side of the room facing the gardens and glancing out into the darkness. “Can they tell which route the weapons will take?”
“If they aren’t already on their way,” Herinor throws in, face hard as stone. He hasn’t smiled once since we spotted the army. A part of me wonders if he wishes he was there with the rest of the traitor Crows rather than waiting to face them on a battlefield.
“No news from Andraya and Pouly,” Tori confirms. “I site-hopped into the village yesterday, and they didn’t have an update.”
“Meer is a good distance from the Plithian Plains. If they want to be inconspicuous, it might take them longer than usual to find out anything,” I put into consideration. “Perhaps as long as it will take for Erina’s army to gather.”
“Which would decide the outcome of this war before we’ve even lifted a blade, no thanks.” Silas leans his hips against the table, studying the array of streets and terrains on the map. “The rebels are a spy network passing on information through the realm for decades. They have established channels and trusted men on the inside. They’ll be quick. ”
Royad stops his pacing, brow lifted so high the scar on his cheek is tugging the end of it down. “When did you turn into an optimist?”
Herinor clears his throat, pointing at the broadest road running north from Meer. “If I were Erina, I’d avoid the main roads. Even if it took me a few days longer, I’d sneak my ammunition through the backlands where no one bothers with what’s on the wagon and where I could quickly hide it in the wilderness.”
He’s right. And he probably knows more about Erina’s and Ephegos’s strategies than any other person in this room.
“There are a thousand little paths leading through the plains,” Clio complains. “Even if we know which one, they might just go cross country the moment they realize someone is tailing them.”
Recienne nods, sitting down at the head of the table. He picks up an apple from the bowl holding down the corner of the map and bites into it with sharp, white teeth.
The room is silent except for his chewing while I count my own heartbeats. Royad continues to stare out the window, no longer pacing, back turned toward us. Kaira studies the map, and Herinor studies Kaira. Silas silently taps his finger against the edge of the table, stopping when Clio cuts him a glance, and Myron is the calm before the storm, sitting so quietly only the rising and falling of his chest informs me he’s still breathing. It seems to have become his new go-to strategy for dealing with uncertain situations.
Recienne swallows, makes the apple core vanish with a flick of his fingers, and laces his fingers together at the edge of the table. “It seems there is nothing we can do for now but wait.”
Why his words make me want to dive out of my skin is beyond me. Perhaps because I’ve never been a patient creature, but with the premise of Erina coming for us, I’m near ready to pick up the next best blade and hack my way across the lands to make him meet his end.
“What about Ephegos?” Myron’s voice rumbles through the room, stopping everyone where they are.
Recienne cocks his head at him.
“We haven’t seen or heard from him since Ayna fled the palace. He’s practically disappeared from the map. What we know of is Erina. The Flames seem to be working with the Tavrasian king directly. Even the Crows, if their presence at the Flame estate is anything to go by.”
Icy cold slides down my back. I hadn’t thought of that. In all these weeks, I’ve been so focused on the immediate dangers that I’d not once questioned Ephegos’s involvement in this war.
“Erina projected to the Flame estate, not Ephegos,” Herinor points out as if that was evidence. “Projecting is not a skill known to be achieved by Crows.”
“Or by Flames,” Kaira throws in when all eyes turn to her.
“Fairies don’t do it either. We site-hop if we have the ability. But Projection?” Clio muses, earning a long look from her brother.
Herinor clears his throat. “Erina has been experimenting with magical blood so much; I wouldn’t be surprised if he has more tricks up his sleeves than we can imagine. However he did it, Erina was there as projection, not Ephegos. If Ephegos could do it, he wouldn’t have let anyone take away the opportunity for causing you and Myron pain.”
Stomach sinking, I try to remember the last time I saw the Crow traitor at Erina’s palace. That was a few days before my escape, when he stopped injecting me with the drug himself, handing off the task to his guards.
I can’t even tell when was the last time I saw him at court.
“He’s planning something bigger.”
All eyes land on me, so I force my sore body into submission and sit up, bracing my forearms on the table. The twinge of pain in my shoulders should be enough to bring human Ayna to her knees, but I’m Crow Ayna, and fae strength flares as I summon it, propping myself up against my own power.
“ He wants to be King of Crows. He wants to establish a new Crow Kingdom. He said so himself. And he also believes he has a claim to the Flame throne. He doesn’t care much for Erina’s place in this war. The King of Tavras is a means to an end.”
“End of what?” Kaira blinks at me, brown eyes big and round.
“The end of everything that is good in this realm.”
“That fucker really is the worst of them all.” I’m not surprised Silas agrees. He’s the first to go for a good conspiracy theory, but Herinor’s nod of approval is a bit disconcerting. We’ve been rolling this over in words and thoughts, looking at it from every angle, but the only way to stop him is to stop Erina, so it doesn’t change anything.
We still need to destroy the magic-nullifying weapon. If it were that easy, we could have worked on an antidote, but Erina has a head start, and the cargo is on its way. We still need an army big enough to meet Erina’s forces, magical or no. And we still need the rebels’ help, or we’ll never know where to strike to take Erina’s most valuable asset.
Outside, dawn has broken, stealing the shadows of the night, and my exhaustion has turned into a numbness spreading from the muscles lining my spine all the way to the tips of my fingers.
I’m ready to collapse into bed, but the staircase is in my way when we slowly make our way out the door toward our rooms.
Clio, Tori, and Recienne site-hopped probably straight to their beds, and Kaira, Herinor, and Silas are leading our remaining group at a faster pace than I have in me.
“Do you need help?” Royad walks beside me as I approach the monster of wide steps leading to the residential levels of the palace.
I shake my head at him. “No help, just time.”
He nods, a sympathetic smile on his lips, and shifts into his bird form, fluttering ahead as Myron’s shadow falls over me from behind.
“I can offer both.”
When I give him a confused glance, he gestures at the stairs. “Help or time.” His eyes are darker than I’m used to, deep shadows circling beneath them. It’s been a long day and night for all of us.
“You don’t need to?—”
“I never said I needed to. Just that I can offer both.”
We’re now standing at the foot of the stairs, facing the obstacle in my path.
“It can be a lot for a new Crow to fly for the first time, and you did so for two full days with only a few hours of rest in between.”
I try not to remember the sensation of falling when I landed on his hand after we found the army. If he knew how close to plunging from the skies I’d been, he’d never take me on another mission again. My muscles cramp in response to the thought of flying, and I twitch to work against the sensation of someone twisting my limbs.
“I’ll manage.” Because I need to know I can handle this. Being a Crow, shifting, flying, the power, the strength. I need to know I can stand on my own even with the most powerful Crow alive next to me.
Myron doesn’t offer me his hand. He doesn’t walk away either. “Time it is, then.” He simply waits, looking at the lowest stair with me as I gather my will and shape it into a rope to pull my legs forward.
One step. Just one step and my muscles are on fire.
I can do this. I’ll fight in a war soon. I’ll throw all I have at the enemy, and I can’t let my legs be what fails me when the time comes.
Another step.
I groan as the back of my thighs take my weight, pushing myself forward.
Myron takes both stairs in one stride, but he remains at my side, patient, silent, no judgement in his eyes as they follow my every move .
By the time I make it up half the stairs, my calves are burning like fire, my left hand is shaking, and my neck is ready to snap.
“Just a few more,” I tell myself.
Myron follows, still by my side but a step below the one I’m tackling now. “You know you did amazing today,” he murmurs, breath at my ear, and I stumble forward, taking another step in the process. My hand finds the handrail, clutching it so hard my knuckles turn white.
“I’m proud of you, little Crow.”
I take another step.
“You’re the first female Crow in millennia, and you’re fast like the wind.”
Another step.
“Your wings shimmer like silver when we fly beneath the clouds.”
My hand slides up the rail, pulling me another step higher.
“Two days of flying and you haven’t complained about the aches and pains of unturned muscles.”
I want to tell him that I have plenty to complain about, but I need my strength to make it up the stairs.
“I would sweep you into my arms and carry you straight to your bed, but you set your mind on doing this on your own, and what mate would I be if I didn’t support you with all I have.”
A heavy leg refuses to make it up the next step, but I will it into submission.
“I’ll always do that.” He waits as if for me to ask what he means, but I bite my lip, pushing myself higher. “I’ll always cheer for your achievements, no matter how big or how small. I’ll be there to watch you shine and grow. ”
My toes slide over the edge of the next step—only, there is no next step. I’ve made it to the top of the stairs, legs shaking and arms quivering. I can’t let go of the handrail, so I lean against it, heaving a breath to loosen my tight chest.
The room is still a good fifty feet down the hallway, and my legs are killing me.
Myron steps up in front of me, smiling down at me like a blessing of the Guardians, but his eyes give away how much it costs him not to scrape me off the railing and throw me over his shoulder. “May I please carry you to your room, Ayna?”
No. I want to say no , but my knees buckle, and my hands slip from the carved wood I’m leaning against as I slide to my ass.
Myron is still waiting. “My arms can do wonders, transporting you from one place to another, Ayna. I assure you it’s a luxury service you won’t regret using.” Humor dances in his eyes, a sight so exhilarating I can’t help but sigh and nod my approval. “Don’t tell the others.”
“Of course not.” So gently I barely notice he’s touching me at all, Myron sweeps me up from the glimmering tiles, wrapping me in his arms, head resting against his shoulder, and marches down the hall.