Chapter 9
It’s not evenan hour later when I sit at the table in my room, fully clothed in an entirely too pretty and uncomfortable traveling dress with long, ice-blue silken sleeves and skirts and a russet bodice that could as well have been part of the brocade wallpaper stretching along the wall around the window.
After informing me that she intends to join me on the journey to King Erina’s court, Kaira braided my hair into a coronet at the crown of my head and added pearl-tipped pins until it looked like a tiara. I’m still processing everything she shared, but one piece of information is particularly bothersome: Herinor put the poison in my tea.
The same male who told me he might be my only ally tried to poison me before he tortured me.
I wish I had a moment to confront him, but the odds are that Ephegos will put me in a carriage and have me shipped off to Tavras before I get a chance to even see the rest of this estate.
Maybe it’s for the best. The sooner I’m out of here, the sooner I’ll get a chance to escape.
I’ve scoured the room for anything resembling a weapon, but the pins in my hair are the closest thing to something sharp I could find, so here I am, waiting for my captors to take me outside and send me off where I’ll hopefully be able to sneak away during the night with my driver none the wiser.
Suppressing a sigh of frustration, I reach deep into the depths of my being where my magic once sang to me, but all I find is a sputter of cool energy that might as well have been the beginning stroke of resignation.
I have so many questions, and every time I gain information, all it does is bring up more questions until I’m buried beneath a pile of them. If Herinor told the truth, Vala was the one aiding me at the Crow Palace. The murderous lake was infused with her power. Maybe that’s all it was—a brief helping hand of a goddess who saw someone worthy of breaking her curse.
My head is a mess, and my limbs aren’t any better. I’m still weak, but the bath at least rinsed away the evidence of that weakness. I’m now clean and presentable again, an image of nobility and grace—if I manage to keep my spine straight. When Ephegos comes for me, I’ll hold my head high and pretend not to care. I’ll pretend for Myron and the memories we created. For the warmth of his touch I’ll never feel again and his sacrifice, I’ll be the unbreakable Ayna who once boarded a pirate ship to see the world and leave behind all the chains of guilt and sorrow.
I’ll be more than that. I’ll be the queen he made me, even when I don’t have a kingdom to rule or a people. I’ll bide my time until I see an opening, and then I’ll run like the wind blowing into the Wild Ray’s sails.
And then, I’ll find Royad and Clio.
I swallow the lump in my throat at the thought that I might find neither of my friends even if they still live. They are magic-wielding fairies. And I’m… I no longer know what I am. Ephegos said I’m no longer all human, but it doesn’t answer what that makes me. I’m not a Crow or a Flame. And I’m most definitely not high fae.
A knock on the door tears me from my thoughts, and I leap to my feet, determined not to show an ounce of weakness to whoever enters this room.
The door swings open, revealing the view of Ephegos in brown leathers, silver sword attached to his belt and an unbothered smile on his lips. “Ah, good, you’re ready.”
He strides right for me, holding out his hand like a courtier even when there is no invitation in his gaze, only command.
For a moment, I debate not taking it. Then my attention drifts to the scars along his skin. He gave up his wings to betray his best friend. He blames Myron for Sariell’s death. He is acting like he rules the Flames even when Kaira mentioned a Matrone. Then there’s the fact that he’s working with General Katrijanov. Too many loose threads are running together in his mangled hands.
The irony doesn’t slip my attention when I place my bad hand into his. “How do you know the Tavrasian king?” I give him a pointed look that I hope will take him by surprise.
The good thing about Ephegos is that he is not only smart, vengeful, and stealthy, but he is also a self-adoring asshole who wants to rub his superiority in my face. So I’m only half surprised when he chuckles and reels me closer to him like a rope on a ship and says, “There is a reason I gained so much power among the Flames, Ayna.” He turns, pulling me along as he heads for the door. “I’ve been coming and going from this place since I learned of Sariell’s existence. A halfling fathered by a Crow and carried in the womb of the Flame Matrone. A princess, so to say.”
My stomach drops like I missed a step even when we’re still on the even, polished floor of the hallway.
“If there is anyone who hates the Crows more than me, it’s Jeseida.” His smirk is manic, and so are his eyes, and when he runs his free hand along his forearm where his Flame armor covers the featherless flesh, I understand that perhaps he is glad that the final evidence of his Crow heritage was burned off his skin.
“And now you’re their prince.” It’s a long shot, but I’ve learned that prompting Ephegos works better than asking questions. His one weakness might be that he feels the need to justify his actions, and I’m ready to take full advantage of that.
“Something like it. An adopted son of sorts. But don’t get me wrong. I haven’t escaped Myron’s rule of terror only to become second choice over another dwindling people.” He leaves it at that since we reach the stairs, and a pair of guards join us on our way down. This time, I pay attention—round ears. So they must have human blood. I’ll only know if the original Flames have pointed ears once I meet the Matrone, which I’m not positive will ever happen since Ephegos tows me through a brass and cream entrance hall, straight for the open wing of a set of heavy double doors.
Outside, a black carriage big enough to hold four people is waiting, the four brown horses harnessed to it stomping impatient hooves. On the bench in front of the cabin, a driver sits, his tall, broad form clad in brown Flame leathers, but he wears a hooded cloak on top, hiding his face in shadows.
My legs turn weak at the mere thought that I’ll have to trick a soldier of his build in order to flee, and I grab onto the doorframe so I won’t stumble down the three granite steps leading down to the gravel path from the lush estate grounds into the forest.
“Get inside.” The door opens on a phantom wind at Ephegos’s flick of fingers, revealing comfortable russet and brass cushioned benches.
With a glance around the walls framing the grounds, I climb into the cabin, ignoring the sinking sensation in my stomach that I might have been better off staying here. It gets only stronger when Ephegos follows me and sits on the bench across, wearing a grin on his face that would have made me believe we’re going on an exciting adventure had I not known the real him.
“You are coming?” The question bursts from my lips even when I’d rather pretend this can’t be happening.
“You didn’t think I’d risk you slipping away on the journey, did you?” He waves his hand, and the door closes so loudly the sound echoes in my mind the way the clicking lock of the prison door used to when I was locked up at Fort Perenis. “I know how good you are at sneaking around. You even managed to escape in the Seeing Forest.” He considers the horror on my face then adds, “Once.”
“And I was caught before I made it far.” It’s not my fondest memory, but the hours with Myron that followed contain some of the turning points of my relationship with the Crow King, so I find myself replaying those quite often.
“Of course, you were. It’s not like a human girl could ever outrun a fairy.” As he pauses, his gaze travels the length of my body, and I cringe under his scrutiny. “But you are no longer all human, so I’d rather keep a close eye on you. Myron already made all the mistakes of letting you out of his sight.”
The way every mention of Myron makes my heart throb anew isn’t even the worst part of the pain. It’s the hatred in Ephegos’s eyes when he speaks of his former friend and king.
I shake it off, focusing on the only thing that should matter right now. “What do you mean, not all human? What changed? I haven’t turned fairy, or I’d have my magic.” Perhaps, it’s not a smart move to ask him about my magic, but I have to know.
Ephegos pulls his lips into a wide smile and shrugs. “You didn’t think breaking a goddess’s curse wouldn’t leave a mark on you.”
It’s not an answer, more of a hint, but I’ll take it. He doesn’t know Herinor shared the story of Vala’s curse with me, so he doesn’t know he gave me more information than he intended to.
Before I can sort my thoughts, a whip cracks, the horses whinny, and the carriage sets into motion. I catch a glance of the tall, white and russet building that was my prison these past days, not failing to notice the intricate details carved into the facade. But it’s the lean, leather-clad form dashing from bush to bush that catches my attention. Kaira.
I don’t need to see her face to recognize the long brown braid bouncing with movement. A small pack is strapped to her shoulders, and in her hand, she holds a bundle I can’t identify.
The path bends away from the estate, and I lose sight of the Flame as tall hedges frame our path all the way to the iron gates opening for the carriage.