Page 104 of Claws of Death

My heart pounds in my chest, hammering against my ribs, ready to escape. All the Crows were still alive and fighting when I last saw them. And the Fairy King?—

Jeseida—blood on my feathers and the satisfying scream as I ripped her throat out with my claws of death.

On instinct, I try to stand, but Myron’s hand isn’t stable ground to push myself upright against, and my wings don’t properly do their job when I use them to balance myself, which lands me right back on my belly, head resting between Myron’s thumb and index finger, and a miserable caw on my beak.

“You’ll be all right,” Myron murmurs. “The healers said it will take time for you to fully regain control over your body. You fell out of the skies.” With ocean eyes, he scans me, beak to tail feather. “Half of your bones were shattered, and your mind shut down for two solid weeks.”

Two weeks.A sound of outrage escapes me, but it has nothing to do with the exasperation of having missedtwo weeks. It’s not knowing everything that happened since. It’s the uncertainty of who survived the battle after I blacked out and who died.

Are they all alive and well?I want to ask, but my damned bird body isn’t made for human conversation, and every last word turns into a creaky caw.

“I know,” Myron muses, reading meaning into the sound. “It’s a long time. Your bones are back to normal, though—as far as fairy healers can tell with crow bones,” he amends, leaning back in the tall armchair and placing me right over his heart, one hand protectively covering my form. “We’ll know for certain everything is all right once you shift.” His brows raise as if considering I should try right now; then he shakes his head. “They said it would be too risky to shift before making sure you’re in full control of your senses. Can you nod if you understand me?”

I can hear you. I understand you. I can count the buttons on your fucking tunic if you’d like me to.

I nearly screech at him. Then I remember none of it is his fault, and deep sorrow spreads in my chest.

In my bird form, I won’t be able to speak a word. The only possibility is to shift so I can ask him about the scratch running along the side of his chin and the shadows under his eyes. I risked everything to make sure he’s all right—that all of them are. And I need to hold him in my arms and tell him that nothing has changed. I’ll always be his mate, and I’ll always love him.

A dip of my head is all I manage, but it’s enough to paint a smile on Myron’s features. Such beautiful, sad features.

With a huff, I nudge his hand, indicating for him to move his fingers so I can scoot out of his grip and try to stand on my own again.

That, he understands. Whether it’s a universal gesture of Crows in their bird forms to let others know they want to be set down or intuition, I wish I knew, but eventually, Myron sets me on the armrest of his chair, watching my claws dig into the forest green velvet. One hand lingers on the side, ready to catch me should I lose balance and fall off the chair.

“There you go.” He studies my clumsy movements as I struggle to keep upright. “Maybe you should give it a day or two.”

I don’t have a day or two. There’s a war going on, and I need to fight at my peoples’ side—Crows or Tavras, it no longer matters. If Erina keeps pushing, the soldiers won’t be the only ones to die in this war. We might have been able to plan this past attack to avoid civilian casualties, but we won’t be able to choose each and every battlefield. Eventually, Erina’s greed for power will cost civilian lives, and that’s something I’m not ready for.

With a tug on my power, I search for the sensation that always brings me back into my human form, for the warmth and the feeling of soil beneath my bare feet and rain on my skin.

Deep inside of me, the well of magic remains silent.

“You saved us out there, you know? If you hadn’t summoned the rain, we would have lost that battle. But at whatcost?” The near reverence in his tone strikes me like a hit to the gut.

Order and Chaos have always been fighting for balance. If you use my power at the same time as his, I don’t knowwhat it will take for that balance to be restored.

Vala’s words drift back into my mind like a dark cloud.

Whatever it is, I’ll pay the price,I told her. Now I’m dreading what that might be.

The first onslaught of panic evaporates when I search for the mating bond and find a thin thread connecting me to Myron. As if he’s feeling me reach for it, Myron’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Clio has been pestering me about when she can ask you what, by Shaelak, you were thinking, dropping from the skies like that,” Myron says with the tired amusement of someone who’s been worrying day and night for two full weeks—or for a full millennium. “She’ll be glad to hear you’re awake.”

He doesn’t realize what a gift that simple line is, knowing Clio is well enough to snark like that.

Again, I push my magic—nothing happens.

Perhaps the healers are right and I should wait a few more days before I attempt to shift, but I’m restless. I want to look Myron in the eye and tell him I’m sorry. That it hurt to leave him behind on the battlefield and watch him get hurt from above like the coward I am. That I’m sorry for not waking up sooner.

Sorry, for not having told him sooner how much I love him.

Not a flicker of my power comes to life.

“Kaira checked in earlier with a bowl of soup,” Myron rambles on. He never rambles, but my silence seems to warrant his monologue. “At first, I thought it was for me, but she plopped into a chair and spent the lunch hour staring me down with that guilt-inducing look of hers. You probably know what I mean.” His chuckle is not as genuine as he tries to make it sound. “If you don’t, you better not get on her bad side.” He sighs. “She blames me for what happened to you.”

I can’t shift.I can’t shift.My wings spread a few inches, and I flutter from the armrest to the dark hardwood floor. Myron’s hands twitch to catch me, but the moment he sees I’m not falling, he draws them back.

---