47. Myron
Myron
The fucking miracle comes in the shape of splattering rain.
One moment, we’re close to burning, Clio’s glacial magic exhausted and Kaira’s siphoning abandoned with the gushing wound on her thigh taking all her focus. The next, hard, icy rain batters the fire without mercy. I throw my hand over my head, shielding my face as I glance up for a sign of Ayna.
I didn’t realize what she had in mind when she told me to give her cover, but when she’d shifted, my heart stopped beating. And it started racing with fear. I swear it hasn’t stopped throbbing near exhaustion since that arrow nearly got her in the wing.
Left and right, flames turn into steam as the fires wink out, the rain soaking the ground beating them into submission. The Flames curse, but they don’t realize it’s my Ayna who sent the wrath of the gods after them. If they did, they’d focus on the sky rather than relentlessly attacking the few of us still standing.
Tori is doing his best to meet every new opponent with a smirk on his face. I saw him like that in the Crow Wars where he stood against my own kind with brutal efficiency and unbreakable spirit. Now that I fight alongside him, I recognize the arrogance of the warrior for what it is: the last line of defense. As long as the enemies believe he has unlimited strength, that it’s that easy for him to keep swinging that monstrous sword of his, they’ll quake with fear.
Silas and Tata are fighting a Flame nearby, closer to the wagons, their sword and hatchet biting into the male’s armor with ease now that the fire is dying down. Steam rising from the put-out fires takes my sight, but I’m no longer being cooked alive.
We’re finally making progress.
The Flame in front of me goes down in a single blow. He doesn’t even manage to lift his sword. I duck and swing as another Flame attacks from the side. This is far from over. More than thirty soldiers are still standing, but their fire no longer gives them an edge. Within minutes, the ground is slippery with water and blood as we slaughter our way across the field .
At the back of my head, a small voice keeps reminding me that Herinor and Royad are still missing. I don’t want to accept it just yet, that they never stood a chance against the fire. The moment their wagon caught flames was a death sentence.
I should have been the one to attack from the air. Not the Crow who puts his life at risk, working against an oath he gave to Ephegos, and most certainly not my cousin. He’s the better male—would have been the better king had there been a Crow kingdom to rule over.
Pushing down the emptiness rising with those thoughts, I face the next opponent.
A part of me wants to glance up and search for Ayna, but there is little I can do for her from down here. She’s made her choice, and she succeeded. I only hope it didn’t take too much out of her so she can still fly herself to safety. Far, far away from this place would be my vote, but Ayna knows how to take care of herself. She knows when to ask for help and when to fight her own battles. She’ll survive this one. She promised.
I hold onto the thread that is the fae promise like my life depends on it. I won’t let go of it, just like I didn’t let go of the mating bond.
Sweat burns in my eyes, distracting me just enough for the Flame attacking from the side to get me in my shoulder. A shallow wound but it throbs like a fucker.
I faintly remember his face from the Flame estate when I tore everything to shreds in my monster form. How he survived with nothing more than a scar on his cheek is a story I’d really like to hear—were it not for the battle raging in the background and the blade in my flesh.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Crow King,” the male grins at me, pulling his blade out of my shoulder and shoving me back. I fucking stumble.
“Arebar!” Kaira shouts from the ground a few feet away. The male’s head snaps to the side. I use the moment to stab him in the ribs, but Kaira is faster. She throws her dagger right at the male’s neck, and it hits true, sending the male tumbling to his knees, and his eyes widen with recognition for a second as he realizes where the blow had come from. “See you behind Eroth’s Veil.”
With those words, she collapses, and I curse the gods as another Flame is coming for me. My shoulder screams with pain as I lift my sword. I breathe through it, ignoring the fact that the little part-Flame might have just saved my life and that I can do nothing to save hers.
Nothing but make this battle come to an end as fast as I can. We’re two Crows and one part-Flame down. Three Crows, if I count Ayna’s absence, but she’s forced the clouds down upon us, so she did make a difference in this battle. The biggest of us all, perhaps. Thick drops of rain are still slapping my armor as I cut my way across the space, drawing closer to the first wagon with every soldier I put to the ground.
“Royad!” I kick the corpse of a fallen soldier out of my way, sword lifted in front of my chest and what I have left of my power channeled into a thin shield. I’d tried to wrap it around Kaira earlier, but I’d have needed to stand beside her to make it big enough for both of us, and it’s more likely she’ll get killed in my proximity than staying down with her wound and out of the way. Clio is close by to help her should a soldier try to end her suffering before the battle is over.
Silas and Tata have cleared most of the space around the wagons, drifting over to the other front where Tori and Clio are doing their best to keep the soldiers at bay. Slowly—so slowly my head has a million chances to tell me there is no point in looking for Royad and Herinor, I make my way closer.
The canvas is no longer burning; the clean cut Royad’s sword sliced into the top runs all the way down the side. The two pieces of fabric don’t come apart, though.
A Flame steps into my path, slender blade angled for my throat. I sidestep him, twisting under his arm and slicing upward into his ribs, and pluck his sword from his grasp as he falls over.
Wherever my mate went, she turned this battle around. The fighting is dying down, and a glance over my shoulder tells me we’re winning. Only five more Flames are on their feet, and they are running into trouble when Tata and Silas join Tori and Clio’s efforts.
“Herinor!” I dare focus on the wagon. Dare take the final step and touch the canvas.
I shouldn’t have.
“Watch out!” Royad’s shout reaches me a heartbeat before a splash of liquid hits me in the face, and I know the stench better than I know that of my own blood.
Fuck !
The serum. Someone poured the magic-sedating serum over me.
The canvas is torn aside, revealing a wooden platform with a bench the length of the wagon, and kneeling before it, heads down and blades at their throats, are Royad and Herinor. Fresh blood is dripping from Royad’s nose over his soot-stained mouth and chin, and his lip is split. The guards standing behind them smirk at me as if they’ve already won, but it’s the female that makes the hairs stand at the back of my neck.
Her fire-red hair is all too familiar, as are the mild lines on her face.
“Jeseida.”
“I must say, I’m surprised you’d walk right into a trap after everything you’ve experienced. It is rather entertaining, though, to have you here yet again, magic gone and your friends in my power.”
“I’m sorry,” Royad grits out. The guard standing by the end of the bench steps forward and punches him in the side of his face. I flinch at a crack that means a bone must have snapped.
Royad doesn’t even whimper. He’s endured worse at the hand of my father. We both have, and we both have lived through it.
I ’ m here. We ’ ll get you out.
“Tori!” I shout, fighting the beginning symptoms of magic loss. My head swims, my legs are weak, and nausea racks through me. “Tori, run!”
He’ll know what to do. He’ll grab Kaira and Silas, and together with Clio and Tata, they’ll site-hop out of here .
When he and I talked in private before this mission, we swore to each other that we wouldn’t abandon the battlefield unless all hope is lost. We’ve made it this far. We defeated an army immune to magic. Yet, hope is dwindling as the guard who punched Royad picks up a bow and arrow and aims at the fairy general.
Not again.
“Now. Tori.” My voice is too weak, but Tori has already spotted the danger—and shakes his head at me.
He’s too weak to site-hop.
So, I do the only thing I can think of. I gather what strength I have left and leap at the guard with the bow just in time to block the arrow. It doesn’t gain enough speed to tear all the way through my body, but it’s enough to pierce the flesh above my heart an inch. It’s enough to make me stumble backward, catching my breath.
“I’m all right,” I say to Royad, whose gaze finds me the moment I double over, bracing my hands on my knees. “It isn’t deep.”
“I can make it deeper,” says the guard, stepping forward.
Jeseida holds up a hand. “We need him alive.”
I want to ask what for, but my vision is blurring, and my legs are buckling. Instead of grabbing for the arrow, the guard catches me by my injured shoulder where my healing power has stopped working on sealing the wound. With a laugh, he pushes me to my knees next to Herinor, blade at my throat, and mutters into my ear. “If you think you’ll ever make it off this battlefield alive, you think again.”
I don’t have time to process. Tori and Clio are standing ten feet from the wagon, Silas beside them. There’s no sign of Kaira and Tata, and I pray to the gods that Ayna won’t return either.
“What do you want?” The tip of Tori’s sword is braced on the ground while, with his free hand, he’s swirling droplets of molten rocks above his hand. Beside him, the ground at Clio’s feet is frozen. Silas is the only one not displaying any sign of magic, but I recognize the tells of the pending shift in him. He’s ready to take off and bolt if I tell him to. He’s ready to stay and fight just the same. One word from me and he’ll launch into action.
“Nothing much.” Jeseida sounds like a girl despite her age. The Flame Matrone tosses her hair over her shoulder like a curtain of smoldering fire and steps to the edge of the platform. “King Erina of Tavras requests the return of his fiancée.”
My blood is boiling with rage. “He can’t have her.”
Jeseida laughs a wind-chime laugh I’m used to from Clio when she’s the deadliest. It drives a shiver up my back. “There is nothing you can do, Crow once-King. I have your friends at my mercy. I have you at my mercy. Wolayna will come forward to save you whether you want her to or not. After all, that’s what mates do, isn’t it?”
“No.” It’s my final word. I won’t allow it. “I’ll come willingly, but I will not be traded for her.”
“I fear you don’t have a choice, Myron.” Jeseida leans down as if sharing a secret. “If she doesn’t trade places with you, we’ll take you back to Meer, and this time, Erina will make sure you don’t fall unconscious during your little … talks.” She pauses, letting the words sink in. “We have im proved the serum, and the side effects are almost gone. You’ll not have a minute of rest. And your mate will know you’re suffering. That bond that hasn’t broken? It will be the death of both of your sanity.”
From the corner of my eye, I notice Tori twitch. It isn’t much, but it’s a tell. Whatever he’s planned, it better be good. If Jeseida manages to get the serum on them, we’re defenseless, and Ayna will have no choice but to give herself up.
I’ll bury that arrow deep in my own heart before I let that happen.
Tori’s eyes lift behind me to the sky above the platform, and I think I hear a pair of wings in the distance.
No. Fly away, little Crow.
The flutter vanishes, and I can breathe.