Chapter 30
I needto control my shallow breathing in order to slow my heart rate long enough to heal the deep hole Katrijanov pierced into my shoulder. The pain is secondary. It’s nothing compared to the terror of Ayna’s screams as our bond transfers part of my suffering to her. What a cruel mercy Vala chose for me. Gifted me a mate to lift my curse just to let me suffer as my agony becomes hers.
“I will never get enough of this,” Ephegos whispers at me, his breath brushing my hair.
Monster.He’s a worse monster than all those Crows who caused the curse. He betrayed all his values for a meek vendetta.
“Torturing us won’t bring her back,” I utter as Ayna’s screams turn hoarse.
I need to get my wounds to heal faster, damn it, so I spare her the agony.
“It won’t bring Sariell back, you’re right. But it’s justice to watch you writhe in pain, Myron. It’s justice to watch Ayna’s will being sucked out of her as she becomes my puppet. It’s justice to take your crown and your people and reestablish the Crow Kingdom.”
I don’t bother pointing out that I’m not writhing. I’m lying as still as the pain will allow so I can focus all my energy on healing so I can free Ayna of her agony.
“There is no Crow Kingdom left,” I hiss through clenched teeth, praying to Shaelak that Ayna’s screams sound worse than what she feels. They are so rough now I’m led to believe her voice will fail any moment. “And nowhere to establish a court of monsters.” Because that’s what the Crow Court would become under his rule.
“I’m ready to test my luck, Myron. Are you?”
I’m about to snap my teeth at him just because it’s the only part of me that’s currently close enough to hurt him, but Ayna’s golden form disappears from the corner of my eye, and her scream turns into a caw. Thank Shaelak for the shock locking me in place, or I’d have given away the graceful, powerful bird fluttering straight for Ephegos’s head.
Katrijanov croaks a warning, but it’s a feeble sound, his fingers clutching at his throat as the tang of magic fills the air and I notice Herinor’s flexed fingers at his side. Damn him and his bad choices, but he’s made a good one just now.
Ephegos manages to turn his head in time to meet Ayna’s claws, talons ripping into his face. His scream turns into a caw as he shifts so fast he’s a blur of feathers and skin. Skin, where his feathers were signed in the Flame attack, when he’d faked his death.
He’s taller than Ayna’s bird, but his wings don’t work, keeping him bound to the ground while Ayna flutters above him, Claws coming down again and again. Often enough to force him to shift once more while her talons hit his shield in violent attempts to break through.
My shoulder has almost healed, thanks to the serum Ephegos gave me—one that makes me a better torture victim that can be broken more frequently while it patches itself up in an endless cycle—but my magic ends there. My ability to shift is blocked just like my Crow magic. All I can do is stare in astonishment as my mate beats her elegant wings, feathers shimmering in the torchlight, and brings down her wrath on the male who caused all this misery.
“Grab her,” Ephegos hisses, back in his humanoid form, his cheek bleeding from a cut right beneath his eye. I hope it becomes a thick scar. Since Crow talons are the only thing leaving scars on Crows, the odds are it will.
I don’t know if he spoke to Katrijanov or Herinor, but he whips his magic out, not to capture her. Instead, it lands a blow to my stomach, making pain explode in my abdomen where I’d tried to relax as much as possible while the wound in my shoulder heals. My breath is stolen as every muscle locks up in response, too late to protect itself from the impact.
The bird whimper-caws, and I know she either feels through the bond what happened or watched it happening. Herinor is on his way to her, his fingers reaching high toward the ceiling where Ayna is circling in assessment of the scene, her black eyes piercing Ephegos with the bloodlust of a Crow temper. I know the feeling all too well; it defined most of my life, even when I was able to control my body enough to remain in my almost human form during the times of the curse.
“Watch out!” My shout dies as Ephegos hits me again, with his fist this time, landing a punch to my jaw where the old bruise has been retreating under my healing magic.
Blood coats my tongue, originating from the place my teeth cut into my cheek at the impact. My vision blurs.
Ayna is a dark form flickering in and out of the fading light as I fight to keep my eyes open.
No matter how I tear on my shackles, there is no escaping this, no way for me to save her as Herinor plucks her from the air with a rope of his magic and tucks her under his arm like a bound chicken.
“Let her … go.” My voice is weak, breathless, as I still struggle with the aftereffects of the punch to the stomach, but at least, my healing powers are catching up as if the serum’s effect is still unfolding to its full capacity. If only it would free all of my powers the way the antidote Ephegos gave Ayna does.
A few more heartbeats and my shoulder will be fine, then my jaw will catch up and my stomach… Perhaps then, I’ll be strong enough to free myself.
Katrijanov has other ideas, though. Free of Herinor’s magic once more, he surges forward, slamming his knife into my chest deep enough to pierce my lung, and leaves it there.
“Just so you don’t get any ideas while we take care of your little female,” he says as he shoves at the hilt one last time before turning and heading for Herinor, who does his best impression of a loyal soldier while both Katrijanov and Ephegos inspect Ayna’s thrashing bird’s body with enough caution to know they believe it was her who attacked both of them with a magic she isn’t even aware of. But I’m not quite as certain with Herinor involved in the scene, with the way he meets my gaze across the other’s heads.
“What happened? How did she turn?” Ephegos demands, his voice disappearing between my labored breaths as I keep up my own fight to remain conscious. My body can only heal if the knife is removed. Katrijanov is a particular bastard for knowing that and using it for torture.
“She isn’t supposed to turn,” Herinor says in that measured tone I’m used to, no sign of emotion or remorse for incapacitating the female he just made an obvious attempt at helping. I try to wrap my head around what role he plays in all of this and why, for fuck’s sake, he hasn’t gotten her out of here before Ephegos and Katrijanov kill her. Sure as we all end in Hel’s realm at some point, the Crow has murder in his eyes.
“I’ll be back for you later,” Katrijanov says to me over his shoulder before he leads the party from the room, and all the pain I’ve managed to control in my panic of seeing Ayna hurt bursts through my body with a vengeance.