Page 19 of Claws of Death

Myron

The cool forestair turns into smoke-laced humidity the moment Clio sets us down on the rocky ground of the cave, hand firmly grasping mine until we no longer sway in the fire-lit space that could host a pack of wolves or—in our case—an unlikely group of humans, Askarean fairies, and Crows. How I hate this mode of travelling. I hated it when Astorian tested his strength by taking Royad and me on a short site-hop, and it’s not gotten any better since. Apparently, I’m not the only one because Kaira is hurling up her dinner at the mouth of the cave, Herinor watching from a few feet away as if he’s not quite certain he shouldoffer his assistance.

Then, what would he assist her with?

“Ayna!” Royad is the first to notice the Crow Queen, who’s still clinging to Clio’s other hand. He gets up from his place behind the crackling fire, almost stumbling over his own feet as he rushes toward us across the dim space that has been our home for the past days.

“Good to see you awake and breathing,” she greets him with a bright smile, and my heart nearly bursts at the sight of their cordial exchange, arms falling around each other in an embrace full of trust and relief.

It’s such a heart-warming sight I don’t even think of answering to the hint of jealousy rising in the pit of my stomach. I stand it all of a heartbeat before I am right behind Ayna, staring Royad down as he meets my gaze.

Reluctantly, he withdraws from her, but not without an eye-roll telling me he knows exactly what’s riding me and he’ll tease me about it later.

I can live with that. What I can’t live with is another moment of not touching Ayna.

So, I take her hand in mine, savoring the warmth of her skin and the fact that I will be able to sleep for the first time in weeks, knowing my mate is safe and Ephegos and Erina cannot reach us in our little hideout. At least, for now.

“I must say, you gave us all quite a scare,” Tori notes when he steps into the cave, guiding Kaira back inside by her elbow while the Flame clutches her stomach, softly cursing the effects of site-hopping. “When Herinor returned with Myron draped over his arms after the dungeon debacle, we didn’t know if we’d ever see you again.”

“Thank you, Tori,” I mutter at him, voice dripping with sarcasm. But he isn’t wrong. Despite knowing Ayna was alive, I didn’t allow myself to believe I’d see her again, let alone so soon.

“You must be exhausted,” Silas says, dark eyes gleaming in the glow of flames as he bows his head an inch at his queen before gesturing at the boulders we use as seats by the fire. “Come, sit with us. Tell us everything over a cup of stew.”

“Stew you cooked and which tastes like an eel kissed the butt of a hog,” Clio notes with a pointed look at the copper pot hanging above the fire.

She brought back a few basic utensils for survival after she and Tori regained their ability to site-hop and took off to warn King Recienne of Erina’s plans. Much to my surprise, they hadn’t stayed at Aceleau, leaving us Crows to our fate, but returned with blankets, pots, a stack of bundles filled with dried fruit and meat, clothes, and weapons.

It’s mere coincidence they were both there when I felt the call of Ayna’s magic in the mark on my shoulder. And thank the Guardians they care about my mate enough to have rushed right after me when I took off with an unintelligible sound followed by Ayna’s name.

“I don’t care what the stew tastes like as long as I don’t smell like that.” Ayna shoots Silas a grin, and the male bows again, so atypical for the harsh warrior I’ve gotten to know.

Her gaze bounces to Clio, who gestures past Tori and Kaira at the dense bushes. “Andraya and Pouly went to the pond to wash up.” She reaches into the bundle filled with clothes to extract a long tunic big enough to fit any of themales in this cave. “This should work until your clothes are washed and dry.”

“Thank you.” Ayna is just reaching for the fabric as the woman and man return from their brief bath, Andraya’s wet hair bound back in a dripping bun and her pants and shirt five sizes too big, but she wears them with pride while the man keeps tugging on the hem of his borrowed tunic as if he hasn’t worn anything like it in all his life.

“Andraya and Pouly,” I use the names Clio provided, and their eyes snap to me, slight distress tearing on their features as they stop in front of us. Royad steps to Ayna’s shoulder while Silas stands at mine, the two Crows framing us like guards.

“King Myron.” Andraya curtsies with her head held high, and I get the impression she is used to navigating court rooms more than adventurous flights through nightly forests. But the look in her eyes—I’ve seen that before in my own people when they were unhappy with my father’s rule, or mine. She’s a rebel through and through, as is the man who hasn’t left her side, gaze flicking from wall to Crow, from Crow to fairy, and from fairy back to wall, scanning every inch of the cave for danger.

“Thank you for saving her.” I give the two humans a long look, willing them to understand just how deep my gratitude runs. Ayna hasn’t told us much before Clio site-hopped us here, but what she’s shared is enough to know I should be bowing to them, not the other way around.

Andraya raises a brow. “We didn’t save her for you. We did it for Tavras.”

I incline my head anyway. “It doesn’t matter why you saved her. She’s here because of you, and I won’t forget that.” Motioning for them to sit by the fire and have something to eat, I guide Ayna toward the pond. “We’ll talk about everything,” I say over my shoulder to Andraya and Pouly, but it’s also a warning for the others to not push me right now.

I’ve been barely holding myself together since I found Ayna in the midst of splintered wood, flaming silver like a star, and if I don’t get some time alone with her before the rest of the world crashes down upon us, I’ll knock out the pillars from under the skies myself, Shaelak be damned.

But Ayna isn’t ready to walk away from her saviors. Before we exit the cave, she stops by Kaira, nodding at her as if in one of their silent conversations, and embraces the Flame. “Find out all you can, and share everything that happened. You don’t need me or Myron to discuss these past cruel weeks.”

Spoken like a queen, and much to my surprise, Kaira inclines her head. A half-sister to my mate. Family.

Ayna’s hand curls around mine as she nods at Royad, Herinor, and Silas, then at Tori, and they all bow—Silas, Herinor, and Royad low, at their waist, and Tori a mere inch, but they all acknowledge her for what she is, and my heart sings with pride.

When she starts walking again, I am convinced the past weeks didn’t break Ayna. If anything, they let a silent strength thrive inside of her that will become the death of our enemies.

And I will grin as she feasts on their blood.

Ayna

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