Page 16 of Claws of Death

Eventually, we end up taking four horses from the last farm we pass by before nightfall and disappear into a small forest lining the side of the road.

I use the silence of twilight to trace the tattoo on my shoulder and think of Myron—where he is, if he’s all right, if Herinor managed to convince him not to run blindly back to Meer and get himself into trouble.

For days, I haven’t felt anything from him, not even one small tingle. Perhaps that’s because I’ve been so focused on our escape and then on ridding my system of the magic-suppressing drug. Now that my mind is on him and only on him, I can feel him in the inked lines along my skin, can sense him like a presence hovering at the back of my mind.

“I’ll find you, Myron,” I promise, allowing the wind to sweep up my words and carry them into the crowns of the trees, above them, in hopes they’ll reach Myron. It’s a foolish thought, but it allows me to not grab a horse and ride off then and there. There are miles and miles and miles spreading in each direction, and he could be anywhere. The likelihood that we’ll find him is as tiny as the needles the evergreens around us refuse to shed.

We don’t spend the night resting but take turns driving the carriage to put as much space between us and Meer as we can. It’s only when the caw of a bird that doesn’t belong in the night sounds from the trees ahead that I allow myself a flicker of hope.

Only a flicker.

But it’s squandered by a thud of something heavy hitting the carriage roof, and all my senses go on high alert.

“Down,” Kaira hisses, already covering me with one arm as she draws the knife Pouly handed her the moment she could stand on her own feet. A rush of power that I’ve failed to summon for so many weeks comes to life inside of me, and for the first time since Ephegos recaptured me in the dungeon, my magic makes itself known.

Andraya hands me one of her daggers while aiming the one she keeps at the roof as if expecting a blade to slice through any moment.

For a heartbeat, silence rules, the tension palpable, and the carriage is too small for the power stirring in my veins. Up and up it rises until I have no room for it in my body, and it spills through my veins.

“Watch out!” My shout dies in a flash of bright silver as power breaks from my skin. Kaira ducks under the bench while Andraya presses into the corner, as far from me as the cabin would allow.

It hurts… Guardians does it hurt. Like fire and iron and ice all at once. Like death and rebirth and the moon squeezing through my blood vessels.

In the distance, I can make out voices. Screams perhaps. The carriage doors burst open, wood splintering under the force of my power, and, for a moment, I finally hear Kaira curse in all colors of Eherean violence.

Then darkness brushes up against me, soft and gentle in a swirl of feathers. For a breath, I wonder if I’m finally turning into a bird again; then his scent fills my nose, and an abyss of emotions swallows me up.

“Stand back,” someone shouts in the background. I know the voice, but I don’t care what they want or why they’re here. All I care about is the weight of Myron’s arms falling around my shoulders, pulling me up against his chest, the uncontrollable need to eradicate every last tiny space between us. The touch of his lips against my forehead as he cradles me to him.

“I found you,” he whispers, and the sound of his voice tunes out the entire universe. “I found you.”

His breath is cool against my skin, his grasp on me firm—or maybe it’s me clinging to him in relief and desperation.

“Don’t let go.” Tears suffocate my words, but Myron understands anyway.

“Never.” On my neck, his fingers tangle with my hair, securing my face more tightly to him. “Never again.”

In this moment, the world might have come to an end, and I wouldn’t have cared. As long as he was here.

“Breathe, Ayna.” Another kiss to my forehead and another, until I believe this is real and I’m not fantasizing about the day we’ll be reunited. “Calm your magic, or it will destroy both of us.”

It’s only then that I notice the strain in his tone, the anguish that has nothing to do with our separation.

Myron loosens his grasp just enough for me to take in the torn expression on his beautiful face, the angry red blotches marring his skin around where my fingers lie against his chest, and it hits me like a cannonball.

I’m hurting him. Somehow, my magic is attacking without my permission, harming the male I’d die to see unharmed.

He doesn’t shy away from my touch though, his expression soft despite his obvious pain. “It’s all right, Ayna. It’s all right. Take a slow breath.” He inhales, holding the breath before he releases it. “Exhale. You’re safe, Ayna. I’m here. We’re together.”

I can’t even begin to understand what’s happening when, like a lullaby, his voice strokes my magic to sleep, and slowly, the marks my hands burnt into his skin disappear, leaving nothing but smooth skin behind.

“Myron.” It’s nothing more than a breath, for I have nothing left when the outburst of my power has drained all my reserves. But it’s enough to summon Myron’s mouth to mine in a hard, desperate kiss that speaks of the fear and terror of the past weeks, of when I believed I’d lost him in the dungeon, the moment Herinor picked him up and carried him away to safety—and left me behind.

We both live or we both die. I won’t leave without you.I’d been prepared to escape the dungeon with him or die at his side, but I’d not been ready to see him ripped away from me all over again. And I’m not now.

Never again will I allow for anything to separate us.

As I swear that to myself, the angry power in my veins fades, and all that’s left is Myron’s taste on my tongue and the feel of his body against mine as we kneel in the wreckage that once was the carriage.

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