Page 22 of Claws of Death

“What meetings with Jeseida?” Both Myron and Royad whirl on him, menace in their eyes as they wait for Herinor to deliver a reason to kill him.

They don’t fully trust him yet, despite his aid in freeing Myron and the others, and right they are. The male’s allegiance is still bound to Ephegos by bargain, and if he isn’t careful, he’ll end up hurting us or killing himself defying Ephegos’s orders.

Herinor stops, folding his thick arms over his chest. “The ones Ephegos took with the Flame Matrone near the end of my time at the palace in Meer?” He phrases it like a question. “You never asked if Ephegos had met with her, and I’m rather fond of my life, so it didn’t occur to me to volunteer the information unless necessary.”

Myron leaps at him so fast I barely see him move, arms shifting into wings and fingers into claws as he grabs Herinor by the throat and pins him against the cave wall. Neither Royad nor Silas interfere as Myron squeezes Herinor’s windpipe so tight I believehe might crush it.

“We need to know everything if we want a chance to stay a step ahead of Erina. Do you understand me?Everything.” The last word comes out as a growl, deadly and full of command.

“Could you kill him later, Myron?” Astorian slinks toward them, ignoring how Kaira has shrunk against me in clear fear for the Crow fighting for air yet not lifting a finger to defend himself. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Because he cannot lie,” Myron amends, glaring at the fairy general over his shoulder as he releases Herinor’s throat, the male slumping against the wall, panting. “He’s telling the truth because he’s a Neredynian fae, and we cannot lie.”

“Old news.” Astorian holds out his hand to the Crow warrior, who promptly takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up. “Now, tell us everything, Herinor, or I swear to Eroth and his vengeful children, I will pick up right where my crowned Crow friend over there left off.” I’ve seen Astorian smirk and grin and dole out mock threats these past few days, have heard stories from Clio of how he likes to do the same with her brother, but this is something entirely different. This is a real threat, one that makes my hair stand at the back of my neck. His lips are a thin line, eyes hard as the stone he can bend with his power, and the hold he has on Herinor’s forearm is anything but comforting.

“He’ll kill him,”Kaira whispers into my mind. “He’ll rip his head off.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”I try to make it sound lighthearted, but my voice—even the one I use to speak into my sister’s head—is too shaky. “Herinor isn’t stupid. He won’t let itcome to that. If he dies, it’s because he breaches the bargain he made with Ephegos.”

“Like that makes it any better.”Kaira hops to her feet, shoving up her sleeves and brushing back her braid. “Apparently, male communication issues are the same in any species.” With a few strides, she’s on the other side of the fire where Silas and Royad stand at Myron’s flank as if to protect him from the part-Flame with little more than a spark of power. “Oh, get over yourselves.” She shimmies between Silas and the wall, making her way to Herinor whose eyes grow bigger with each of her hasty steps.

Without regard for retaliation, she shoves against Astorian’s shoulder, motioning for him to get out of the way as she grabs Herinor by the collar of his shirt.

Much to my surprise, Astorian yields, and Herinor doesn’t move, nostrils flaring as Kaira raises to her toes and whispers, “What do you know about the production of the drug?”

While Herinor blinks, struggling to form words, in her mind, Kaira opens a channel I’ve experienced before—the night she kept the guards at the palace gate occupied so we could sneak in.

What I see isn’t what I expected, though. Instead of all the wonders of how a fairy drug is made, a violent toss of emotions engulfs me. It’s a push and pull of doubt and attraction, repulsion and desire. I’m a nutshell in the ocean that are Kaira’s emotions until she manages to form a clear thought.

He smells like the flowers you lay down at the grave of a loved one.

The thought is so random—and startling—that I only realize she wasn’t speaking to me but merely thinking.

“I don’t know if that’s a scent I’d be attracted to, but whatever works for you, sister.”Barely able to hide my smugness at filtering into her thoughts, I get up and follow her around the fire, stopping a foot away from Myron, who struggles not to hop in front of me to block Herinor’s path in case he should decide to attack me.

I almost laugh. He wasn’t there to protect me in Meer, and he doesn’t need to protect me now. I have my powers back and can protect myself.

My tattoo tingles as if in answer, and warmth streams down my spine like a stroke of Myron’s fingers.

Kaira, however, stands ramrod still, whether from embarrassment that I heard that intimate thought or because she’s fighting not to jump Herinor—or stab him—I don’t care. I fold my arms over my chest and study the Crow warrior and the Flame as they stare each other down.

Just when I think the cave is going to crumble under the tension, flashes of thoughts fill my mind. The sense of Kaira’s hand so close to Herinor’s throat, the warmth of her fingers as they brush the skin right beneath his collarbone. Her scent… Salt and herbs and embers. I’m only beginning to realize I’m no longer in Kaira’s mind but in Herinor’s, and the channel she made is one extending into his thoughts, allowing me to read them as she does when the images shift, and I’m in a torchlit room.

Everlasting fire illuminates the space where I’ve been ordered by Ephegos to wait. It would make a good torture chamber.The table’s already there, as is a rack of tools I could use to break my enemies. Instead of exploring the assortment of hammers and pliers and knives, I sit on the single chair at the side of the room, wondering if Myron has realized I abandoned him.

When Ephegos offered to become part of the rebellion, it was an easy choice. Myron hasn’t done shit to break the curse in years. Marrying one pitiful female after the other doesn’t count. Even if this year’s bride seems to have more spirit than any other before. I wonder if she’s ever realized the monster she married will be the death of her like he was of all the other brides before her…

The scenery changes, ripping me out of the familiar torture chamber where Herinor first cut me to alert Myron through the mate mark. The breath I suck in nearly chokes me as I’m thrown into another memory of Herinor’s. This time, he isn’t alone. A female with brown skin and chestnut hair fidgets where Ephegos is extracting blood from the vein in her forearm while Jeseida swirls a clear fluid in a glass vial.

“Just a few drops. That should be enough for a first test.” The Flame Matrone smiles at Ephegos like a proud mother, and he seems to stand taller under her approval. Honestly, the familiarity between the two of them is sickening. I never would have joined him had Myron shown a flicker of promise. But he’s given up on our people while Ephegos is forging a future for us.

“Ready?” Ephegos withdraws the needle and holds it over the vial, letting two thick drops of Flame blood drip into it. Crimson streaks spread like a spiderweb before the Matrone stirs it with a flick of her hand. Fire sizzles in her palm, engulfing the potion with heat and magic. I’ve seen her do that before when they tried Crow blood. But our blooddoesn’t work.

“What’s so special about Flame blood that it blocks fairy powers?” Astorian asks out of the blue, drawing all eyes to him, including mine.

“You read minds, too?” I blurt out, earning a dip of Astorian’s chin and a horrified gasp from Pouly and Andraya who have woken from the tumult.

Astorian reads minds. Of course, he does. He’s the one Clio referred to all those weeks ago…I know someone who does. It’s an annoying power. If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him to help you learn to control it.

---