43. Ayna
Ayna
We sit around the dinner table an hour later. Silas offered to help skin and prepare the rabbits. Kaira, with my help, boiled the water for the stew, and Clio and Tori headed out to the back garden to grab the herbs Andraya promised they’d find behind the adjacent stables. The scent of rosemary and sage fills the air, reminding me of simpler times.
It’s oddly comforting, how we have all settled into this human home so easily. Erina can’t reach us here. Neither can Ephegos. The Flames are the last ones to suspect a thing about a secret organization supporting my claim to the throne of Tavras, so we could perhaps stay here and forget the world—were it not for the mission we are on.
I stir my second helping of stew, searching for carrots and potatoes in the mix, savoring the spot where my thigh touches Myron’s, and my mind wanders to the oceans in the east beyond which his home lies.
“As requested, we’ve been tracking the caravan for the past few days. Our spies have been following it through the villages. So far, there haven’t been any interruptions. No unexpected detours or long pauses,” Pouly reports. “The caravan passed this village a few hours ago and will be entering the plains soon.”
“How many men are traveling with it?” Myron requests. He has been quiet, listening and observing, his presence steady by my side as we eat.
“About ten foot soldiers per wagon and four guards on horse when we last had eyes on them, but another rebel reported that he spotted more soldiers arriving from the west. It’s possible they are bolstering their guards as they leave the settled area.” Pouly takes a spoonful of stew, considering. “That’s at least forty-five foot soldiers and twelve cavalry. That isn’t a problem for you, is it?”
The look of outrage Tori gives him is almost comical.
“Not if they’re human soldiers,” Myron responds before someone can say something that will ignite a discussion nobody needs right now. “Let’s hope Erina didn’t send along the traitor Crows or the Flames.”
“I guess you’ll need to wait until the attack to find out,” Pouly says, chewing, and my stomach tightens squeamishly at the thought of going in so unprepared. “No one has reported on the shape of their ears. Apparently, they are wearing armor on their heads that hides that feature.”
“Smart move.” Should it be concerning that Tori sounds impressed?
Tata reaches for the wooden board with sliced bread, offering a piece to Myron and me before picking up one of her own. “Whatever we find, we’ll handle it when we get there.”
“If they have magic, the handling will take a little longer,” Silas adds, but he doesn’t disagree.
Tata rewards him with a clipped smile. “Your unholy Crow magic will certainly make sure it’s not that much longer after all.”
From the open window, humid evening air drafts inside, playing with loose strands of my hair and carrying the scent of hay and grains. The stables are visible across the yard of grass where two horses graze despite the late hour.
We sit and talk until the moon comes up and Andraya ushers us into the bedroom where the big males cram their bodies into too-short beds on the bottom of each bunk, and the females climb to the top beds. Andraya and Pouly shuffle off to take care of the dishes, but I’m not tired. A million thoughts run through my mind and a million emotions through my chest.
“How about a brief flight?” Myron whispers into my ear when he’s done watching me fidget on the spot before the bed. Herinor is already snoring, and Tori and Clio are whispering something, the female’s head dangling over the side of the bed as she watches him roll around without finding a comfortable position .
I nod at Myron, focusing on the feeling of wind carrying my wings, of freedom and wide waters.
My body shrinks, and my feathers slide out of my skin, replacing the leathers that belong to the Queen of Askarea. I can’t lose them when shifting back, but I don’t think about that now. With a few hops on my bird feet, I’m back at the kitchen door, fluttering toward the window and out into the night.
Myron is right behind me, his powerful wings bringing him level with me fast, but he doesn’t stay by my side, leading the way to the steep roof of the stables. There, he hops to the edge, already shifting back, and sits down on the old gray tiles. I land next to him, remaining in my bird form but close enough for him to touch. His warmth seeps into my feathers, making my little bird heart flutter. I want to shift back, but I’m worried what I’ll say.
We haven’t been alone much, and the few moments we have were loaded with the unspoken words and the ache for closeness I haven’t been able to give in to.
“Look at that moon.” Myron tips back his head, hair shifting to reveal his ears as he observes the almost perfect yellow circle above. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, not that I could give him more than a caw and a nudge with my beak.
“When I was a youngling, I’d sometimes sit on the top of the tower with Royad. We’d dream of a world where my father didn’t think pain was the only way to learn how to be a leader. We’d dream of flying east, back to Neredyn. Sometimes we’d talk about the places we’d visit, the wild forests along the western coasts, the islands scattered along the coast before it which my people once called their home.”
I stay still, afraid he’ll stop talking, but he sighs, brushing back his hair and rubbing his hands up and down his face a few times like he can chase the memories away.
“I’ve been waking up every night since the Flame estate, wondering if I should knock on your door. Just to talk,” he adds before I can wonder what he hoped to get out of a visit. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about so many things.” He pauses, lacing his fingers together and resting his hands in his lap. “But it all seems irrelevant in the face of a war we don’t know we’ll survive.”
I don’t know where he’s headed with this, but I can’t ask him either, so I nudge his elbow with my beak, hoping he’ll get that I want him to tell me more.
“I’ve been thinking about my promise to Tori, that I’d take my people and leave when all this is over.” Again, he pauses, and I can sense a question in the air. And again, I nudge him. “You’re a Crow now, Ayna.” He clears his throat, eyes lingering on the moon as if it holds all the answers in its swollen belly. “I don’t know where we’ll go or what we’ll find there, but it’s possible my promise to Tori won’t be fulfilled unless you come with me.”
Heat and cold rushes through my bird body, shaking it so violently I lose control and slip out of it, shifting into my human form. Thank the Guardians, my leathers are there, but I’m half sitting in Myron’s lap. On instinct, his arms close around my waist, preventing me from slipping off the roof. His mouth is by my ear, hot breath familiar and exciting as it tickles my skin. “I don’t need an answer right now. I just need to let you know there is a chance the magic of the deal will not be satisfied.”
He means it. He’s leaving it up to me if I want to join him wherever he goes.
“Then there’s Tavras.” He doesn’t let go of me, sliding me fully onto his lap as he lies down against the tiles, bending a knee and bracing his foot on the edge of the roof to hold both our weights while my own legs dangle over the edge left and right of his thigh. My back is pressed against his chest, one of his hands resting idly on my stomach. It’s comfortable. Safe. And for once, I don’t think about what it used to feel like with him. I only feel how it is now.
“What about Tavras?” My eyes find the moon once more, wondering if we’ll ever be like this again.
Myron’s voice rumbles through my body as he answers. “You’re queen of two realms. That of Crows and the very one we’re in right now.” His fingers find my hair, absently stroking down the side of my head. “You can’t both leave with me and stay in Tavras unless I become King of Tavras.”
It’s not a question but a fact. “Technically, you’re as much the King of Tavras as I’m the Queen of Crows. We’re married, Myron.”
“We are.” Beneath my spine, his heart slams hard against his ribs. “Married and mated. What’s mine is yours. You’re not technically my queen; you literally are. In every sense of the word. You can rule our kingdom in my stead. I trust you with our people. With body, heart, and soul. ”
I can’t breathe as his fingers splay on my stomach, the light touch turning proprietary. “I’m yours, Ayna.”
But his hand says what his words don’t. That I ’ m his.
The armor is suddenly too tight, the leather too thick. I want to feel his warmth skin to skin.
“Let’s destroy Erina’s weapon first. We can talk about everything else tomorrow.”
It’s the response of a coward, but I’m not ready to say I’ll be his again if only he makes me.
“There are things that can’t wait until tomorrow, Ayna.” His lips are close to my ear once more, brushing the shell of it, and I shudder against him. “If things go wrong tonight, there will be no tomorrow where I can tell you I can’t bear another day without you knowing that I feel you through our bond. It might not be as strong as it used to be, but it’s there. I can feel your pain and your joy. And I can feel the heat flowing from you right now, Ayna.” My skin tingles where his finger traces down the side of my neck, sweeping my hair aside to place a kiss to the sensitive skin right beneath my ear. My body reverberates with pleasure at that simple touch. “I need you, Ayna. All of you. If you’re not ready, I can understand, but I need you to know that I’m ready to give you my all. And if this is the last night we have, I need you to take it.”
His lips still below my ear, lingering, waiting for an answer I can’t speak.
But I turn my head to the side, meeting his mouth with mine in a kiss that equals the storm brewing in my chest. A moan slips from his throat, deep and sensual, the sound running straight to my core. His tongue slides against my lower lip, followed by a nip of his teeth, and I open for him, inhaling his breath, his scent. Like honey over fire, his taste melts on my tongue, the brine of the ocean, sage and rosemary, but there’s a sweetness to it that I’ve never noticed.
His hand traces the collar of my leathers where the steel vines form a hedge. Like on a silent command, they retreat at his touch, creeping back against my shoulders, and the buckles of my jacket come undone. Whether it’s Myron’s magic or that of the spelled leathers, I don’t care. The cool night air kisses my skin through my undershirt, and my breasts are no longer trapped. Myron’s fingers haven’t moved from my collarbone, so I guide them down my chest to the sensitive flesh of my nipples. Myron sucks in a breath as his fingers graze the hard rosy buds. His hips roll against my backside, his thigh between my legs lifting me an inch so I feel his arousal pressing lightly against me.
“We’ll fall off this roof,” I mutter between kisses.
“Worth it.” His breathless chuckle runs through me like sweet poison.
“I mean it, Myron. If we continue up here, we’ll tumble over the edge and break our necks.”
He pinches my nipple, eliciting a moan from me that he muffles with a kiss. “I’ll blissfully tumble over any edge with you, Ayna. Preferably together. But tonight, all I need is for you to trust me. I promise I won’t let you fall.” He licks up the side of my neck, leaving a blazing trail of fire. “At least, not over the edge of the roof. I have a better one in mind. ”
The vines around my hips yield to his touch, clearing his path as his one hand moves from my stomach to the waistband, while the other continues to caress my breast. The small ache where he pinched me has turned into a sensitivity that makes me arch into him every time he brushes against it.
“Do you trust me, Ayna?”
I don’t need to think about my responses. I trust him with my life. “Always.”
His growl is guttural and predatory, but his fingers are gentle as they undo the laces of my pants and slide beneath the leathers. With a roll of his hips, he pushes me against his hand, fingertips sliding into the wetness between my thighs. I bite back another moan, bucking my hips to give him better access. Myron chuckles against my neck. “Even if I didn’t have my fingers on you right now, I could smell how wet you are for me.”
I don’t object because I’m liquid, and I want him to slide deeper.
Myron uses his free hand to shove my pants a few inches down, as much as my spread thighs will allow. It’s enough for his fingers to graze my center, and fuck. The. Guardians: pleasure explodes in my core, searing me like a godsdamned everlasting torch. My shoulder is tingling the slightest bit.
I haven’t checked on the scar because my wound hasn’t hurt in days, but this is the first time I’ve felt something more than pain or numbness.
Shimmying sideways, I skate my hand along his thigh, grabbing onto the hard muscle as he circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of my legs. He groans his approval, sliding deeper so his fingertips are at my entrance. I want him. So badly I don’t think as I grab behind my hip where his cock is straining against his own leathers. Gods, I want that hard length inside of me.
“Patience, my queen.” His voice is rough, breath a series of ragged gusts against my skin. “You will have your pleasure.”
As he says it, he plunges two fingers into me, and my world splinters. A scream teeters on the verge of escape. I need him with a desperation I’ve never experienced in my life. Slowly, he pumps, his palm pushing against me with the most delicate pressure.
My fingers search for the strings of his pants, but they’re tucked away, and I can’t find the right angle. Myron’s other hand is coasting my breasts, trailing up and down my stomach, and all the while, he’s kissing me like this is indeed the last night we’ll ever have.
“Promise me there’ll be a tomorrow, Ayna, and I’ll fuck you, then.”
Between my legs, his hand moves faster, his braced leg making sure I don’t slide off as I’m trembling around his fingers. My vision explodes in silver light like the stars decided to rearrange in the skies, and my pleasure spikes so hard I finally scream his name.
Myron doesn’t cover my mouth with his, letting the proof of my climax sound into the night, but his shield wraps tighter around us, and I know the silver light was from the protective layer he’s drawn around us. In the distance, an animal scurries across the ground. An owl hoots in the trees nearby. My hand slides from his hip right into his waiting one.
“I promise.” Something stirs inside of me, like a string being pulled from a ball of yarn, and unspools, unspools, unspools, until it hits a mass of bright energy. It hooks itself into it, melting into the throbbing light. It’s a flash of a vision, so brief I wonder if I really saw it, but when it’s gone, the sense of the thread remains.
Myron kisses the corner of my mouth, a quiet sigh following like a ghost he didn’t mean to let go.
“I’m yours, Ayna. I will always be yours. Mind, body, and soul.”