Page 9 of Claws of Death

The only good thing is that Ephegos has decided I’m no longer worth his time. He sends guards to inject me rather than bothering to do it himself. Then, when he was the one to dig the needle into my arm, at least, I knew where he was and what he was up to. These days, I have no indication of what the traitor Crow is doing, if he’s plotting new terrors, or if he’s simply waiting for his plans to come to fruition.

It’s been three weeks since my escape and recapture, and all I can show as progress is that I’ve learned that begging isn’t beneath me. Every day, Erina parades me in front of his court, and every day, I plead with the guard who escorts me to the reception rooms and formal banquets to check on Kaira for me when the king won’t allow me to see her. I’m not foolish enough to believe any of them will hear me. Their sepia palace guard uniforms tell all about where their loyalties lie. As for the blue-and-black uniforms of the military Ephegos now leads, they appear all too often in the pompous palace, shiny weapons on their belts and stern expressions on their faces as they scan the courtiers walking the hallways.

Today is no different. An older guard is escorting me to lunch with the King of Tavras, his lined face set in a stone-like mask and his hard blue eyes on the path ahead. It’s the third time he’s taking me. In the beginning, Erina tried to never have the same person accompany me, but it seems he’s run out of trustworthy men to haul me from room to room, so I’m starting to recognize the faces showing up at my door with orders to make sure I follow the king’s summons.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I frown at him, fighting to keep a dignified posture despite the weight of the drug lingering in my veins like lead. All I want is to lie down and curl up in a ball until it passes. One of the maids forced me to drink some water earlier so I wouldn’t faint, and as I notice the cluster of people by the throne room door, I wish I hadn’t and would lose consciousness instead of another moment under the scrutiny of Erina’s loyal followers.

The guard faces me, gray brows rising high on his forehead as if he can’t believe I spoke to him. “Lunch and a harp concert.”

I bubble a laugh that sounds like I swallowed dried moss, and his features turn into a grimace.

“Harps?”

The man nods, placing one hand on the pommel of his sword while he guides me along with his other hand. “Hurry, Lady Wolayna. Your future husband doesn’t take kindly to being left to wait.”

As we continue down the hallway, I spot Lady Andraya’s grizzled hair among the onlookers. Her dark eyes find mine across the room, and she inclines her head the way she did the last time I saw her.

“She’s a wild one, that lady,” the guard comments as he notes the direction of my gaze.

“Wild?” Another laugh—one of surprise—readies itself in my throat, but I bite it back for the benefit of keeping the casually neutral expression I’ve adopted as part of my being put on public display.

The man clears his throat. “A lady who oversees an entire port city? She’s powerful for sure. Did you know she used to live in Meer before she married?”

Lady Andraya and I have exchanged a few words over the past few days whenever she came to pay her respect to the king, but all I’ve learned so far is she speaks more boldly to the king than any other guest I’ve witnessed.

“Powerful,” I agree. “But wild?”

I’m not sure I imagine the blush on his cheeks as he turns to face the throne room door once more. At least, his graspis gentle as he pulls me over the threshold, keeping up appearances that I’m here out of my own free will. Erina made it very clear to me that, if I as much as indicate that I’m a prisoner here, he’d make sure Kaira suffered.

So, I keep my silence, bound by invisible chains on my magic and my will.

“My name is Pouly, by the way.” The man doesn’t look at me as he introduces himself. “I will escort you again tomorrow.” It’s the last thing he says before releasing me into the throne room where the crowd of nobles curtseys and bows at the appearance of their future queen.

I don’t even have time to react; Erina is awaiting me on his throne, and the presence of dozens of armed men surrounding the room is enough to keep me in line. I stride up to the dais where Erina had a little table set for the two of us beside his throne.

“My lovely Ayna.” With a single gaze, he drinks in the low, gold-embroidered neckline of my sepia dress before he meets my eyes. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t join me today.”

“I’d never dare,” I whisper as he stands from his throne to meet me at the top stair as I climb up the dais.

“Because you know what I’ll do if you misbehave.” The glint of malice in his eyes is swallowed up by the practiced expression of regality, and I suppress a shudder at how easily he can hide his true nature. It’s a shift as severe as that of Myron between his fae form and bird form, but Erina is merely human, and that makes things so much worse.

I place my hand in his open palm and allow him to escort me to the table where I sit on a golden brocade chair andface the sepia and gold napkin draped across the gold-coated plate. Erina takes the seat across from me and waves a hand, gesturing for his guests to sit down at the tables scattered throughout the room. I catch a glimpse of Pouly standing against a nearby wall a few feet from the table where Lady Andraya is sneering at the revealing dress of a young woman.

In the far corner, two harps are set up with two chairs waiting for musicians to occupy them. I drown out the murmuring crowd by focusing on the open windows overlooking the gardens. Fall is creeping into this part of Tavras slower than farther up north, but the first signs are obvious. Not long and greens will turn to yellows and reds, then to browns like the death Erina is ready to bring upon the fairylands.

As if summoned by my thought, Erina brushes a finger along my forearm. “After the wedding, we can take strolls outside. But for now, I’d rather not give you another opportunity to sneak away.” The smile on his face makes me sick to my stomach.

Help me,I want to cry out.Anyone. Get me out of here. GetKairaout first.

My words dry up at the image of my sister bleeding yet again because of me.

“We’ll take a nice little walk with your Flame friend, Ayna.” He only adds it to clarify she’d be there to carve open should I dare try anything.

“Will she attend our wedding?” I give him a bitter smile. “You know, the way you had planned to have King Myron attend.”

“Don’t speak his name in these halls, woman. There is a new King of Crows.” A clear warning, but not enough tomake me believe what both Erina and Ephegos have been hoping: that Myron might be dead after all.

I feel him, though. In my tattoo, he’s ever-present like a soothing touch, like a tender stroke along my skin.

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