Page 36 of Claws of Death

“Your queen already agreed, Royad.” Myron shakes his head at his cousin before pinning Recienne with a look. “Where do you think they’re holding them?”

My eyes find Clio’s, hurt constricting my chest. If she knew what Recienne’s plan was all along…

“She didn’t,”Kaira interrupts in my mind before I can finish the thought. “She didn’t know. Neither did Tori. At least, not about their king’s plans.”

It’s a weak consolation but better than the full force of betrayal building up in my chest. “How do you know?”

I’d almost forgotten my sister, but as she steps out of the shadows nearby, she’s more confident than I’ve ever seen. “We should start looking at the Matrone’s residence,” she says out loud. “That’s where they brought you first, and that’s where they experimented on the Flames and … Herinor.” The male’s name comes out rough and reluctant as if she’s sworn never to speak it, but it’s out, and Herinor’s gaze snaps to the Flame’s, a million words dancing in his light green eyes.

Herinor clears his throat, but before he can speak, Silas claps his hands. “The residence of doom it is.” And Herinor’s words cease before they can spill.

“We leave tonight.” Quick like a snake, Myron’s hand curls around mine, pulling me along as he turns and marches back toward the main palace.

About an hour later, we’re packing provisions in our room, each of us stuffing a bundle of foods into the packs Clio and Tori provided for our mission. We were given fighting leathers in the latest Askarean fashion in addition to weapons of preference. I’m now wearing two daggers strapped to my hips while Myron is wearing a sword strapped to his spine. Herinor’s belt is stuffed with knives of various sizes, and a long sword dangles by his hip. Royad’s bow peeks over his shoulder, and his quiver doesn’t only hold arrows but a long, elegant blade, which he didn’t stop fussing about like it’s a treasure. Silas is wearing a hatchet and a sword, and Kaira’s wearing a bow over her shoulder and a sword at her hip.

Myron hasn’t spoken much since we returned to our room, a dark cloud of worry following him wherever he goes. He reminds me more of the brooding king I first met than of the passionate male who elicited all sorts of moans from my lips not even a full day ago.

As if sensing my stare, Myron turns his head, hair shifting to shield his features as he leans over his pack, stuffing in a spare shirt.

From their vantage point by the window, Pouly and Andraya are observing our busy preparations, Andraya’s brow rising every time I meet her gaze. “You’re still set on going without us?”

They weren’t pleased when we told them we’re headed on a mission, but it’s a stretch to take even me with my unreliable powers. Bringing two humans to a Flame lair would be irresponsible to no end.

“We’ll need someone to rally the rebels,” I tell her instead of repeating my reasons.

“Erina won’t be searching for you,” Pouly supports my claim. “He thinks you left Meer through its main gates. You’re the perfect person to put pieces into place to gather the rebel army.”

“He’ll be searching for you, though,” the lady says to Pouly, and the concern on her features is real. “We can’t risk you being discovered.” She means it, but the way they are looking at each other makes me wonder if it’s for fear of blowing their mission or fear forhim.

“Someone needs to make sure you don’t bite random people’s heads off on your path through Tavras.” The guard is grinning, more handsome than a man his age should be capable of.

Deciding it’s none of my business if Andraya makes Pouly glow like a youngling, I hand them the final pack. “Tori promised to take you to the Tavrasian border. You’ll know your path from there.”

Andraya nods. She’s told us of the small farm belonging to the rebels in the Plithian Plains near the border. Royad offers a bundle of bread and dried meat, dropping it into the bag I hold open. “This will last you a few days. Make sure to find a safe place to stay the night. And when you see rebels, tell them?—”

“Tell them their queen is calling for their aid,” Kaira finishes for me, throwing her arms around the woman first, then around an awkwardly hugging Pouly.

“Their queen isn’t calling for anything,” I correct. “Tell them to prepare to defend their home from a tyrant worse than the most recent Jelnedyn king.” They don’t need toknow I haven’t decided yet if I want to rule a kingdom that has caused me nothing but pain.

“I’ll tell them to be ready when their queen calls,” Andraya says with a curtsey, something she hasn’t done since she left Erina’s throne room and something I’d never demand of her—queen or no. “Plus, don’t worry about me. I’ve been sneaking secret messages around Tavras since long before you were born. I know what I’m doing.” She leans in, weaving her arms around my shoulders and pulling me into a tight embrace. “I helped get you out of Erina’s gilded cell after all.” When she lets go, she’s smiling, but the dread of our escape is clear in her eyes. “Be safe, Wolayna.”

Much to my surprise, she doesn’t complain again when Tori knocks on the door a few minutes later, holding out both hands to site-hop Andraya and Pouly back to Tavras.

I don’t know when I’ll see them again, only where to send a message when the time comes to go to war.

How I wish it’ll never come to that.

As they vanish into thin air, Clio stands in Tori’s place, a wry smile on her lips and a snowflake at the tip of her fingers. “We haven’t had the chance to train your powers.” Her regret about the fact hits me right in the chest, leaving little space for all the retorts about the last time we trained together welling up.

“We haven’t.” And I still can’t shift into a bird at will. I have no idea if I can shift at all, but I don’t say that. I simply hug her, ignoring the hard leather pressing against my skin. I’m not used to wearing a full uniform like that, but I’ll take it if it means the Flames can’t fry me as easily.

When I detach from my friend’s embrace, Myron is behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder in silent support. “The next time you see her, she’ll kick your ass up and down the arena,” he says to Clio, and it’s only a half-joke. Because I know, like I know the path of the sun in the sky, that Myron will not let me walk into enemy territory unprepared. He’ll teach me himself until I can fight like a creature kissed by both Vala’s and Shaelak’s blessing.

The tension in my body eases a bit, and I lean into his touch, lips tipping up at the sides. “It’s a promise.”

I only hope that my promises haven’t become binding like the Crows’.

Ayna

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