Page 43 of Claws of Death

My fingers find smooth skin and the absence of pain a burnmark would come with.

It takes me a moment to understand we’re in the ruins of the Crow palace and the two graceful outlines on the half-shattered wall are Myron and Clio.

“About time you woke up,” Royad’s soothing voice greets me from a few feet away where the other Crows are gnawing on dried fruit and passing a waterskin around.

Herinor nods his agreement. “If I didn’t already know you’re a menace, I’d be convinced now.”

With an eye-roll, Kaira elbows him, sitting down beside him with just enough distance that their bodies don’t touch. “My sister isnota menace.”

“But you are?”

Honestly, if Herinor is trying to collect extra points with Kaira, he’s not doing well at all.

“What made you doubt before?” Sitting up, I stretch my arms over my head, ready to take a full breath when a black, feathery form flutters into my shoulder. I barely get in a gasp of air before the bird expands into Myron’s familiar shape. His lips find my cheek, arms winding around me so tightly I cough, even as I lean into him, inhaling his scent greedily.

Turning my head, I brush my mouth against his, the warmth of his breath filling me with new strength, new life.

“Good, everyone’s awake.” Clio’s voice nearly startles said life out of me once more as she sneaks up behind us.

Royad bursts out in laughter as I jump into Myron’s lap, and the male winces as I land roughly on the sensitive pieces of his malehood.

When I glance over Myron’s shoulder, determined to glower but incapable of doing so when all Ireally want to do is take hold of Myron’s pants and check what damage I did, Clio is grinning sheepishly. “Once the Crow King’s got his cock back in order, we can go find the rest of those feathery creeps.”

I’m surprised neither of the males glares at her with death in their eyes. Even Myron grunts a pained but humorous sound.

“Off we go, Crow hunting,” Kaira chimes in.

“No hunting,” Herinor corrects, snatching her bow from where she’s placed it on the ground beside her. “You like Crows, never forget that.”

“Only the ones who deserve it.”

Royad and Silas are still laughing when they get to their feet, lifting their packs onto their shoulders and sheathing their weapons. A few minutes later, we’re on our way to comb the wasteland that is now the Seeing Forest for left-over Crows.

We find no one on the first day. The Flames have thoroughly burned everything to the ground, and there are no tracks we could interpret to figure out if Crows have recently passed through. By the end of the second day, we have searched the entire north-western part of the forest, finding no sign of life other than a few birds picking for scorched nuts. A day later, we arrive in the eastern regions of the forest. The Crows in our group search from up in the air, shifting back and forth to report, while Clio, Kaira, and I stay on the ground.

I could shift. Deep down in my bones, I know I could shift if I gave in to the tug whenever I watch the flock of birds take off to the skies, but there’s a part of me that fears my own power, fears the lightness of that other body and where the winds could carry me if I dared to give in. I could easily lose myself and forget I have a kingdom to save. So, I find reasons why I need to stay with the females.

On the third day, we find a black feather on the ground. Myron lands just in time to watch me pluck it from the charred soil, his elegant bird form expanding into the broadness of his fae body, shoulders widening as layers of feathers retreat, giving way to his leathers.

“Could be a regular crow’s,” Herinor comments as he plants his boots next to Myron’s in the ashes.

“Could be,” Royad agrees. He’s been quiet these past days, retreating more and more into himself as hope to find any remaining Crow Fairies in this joke of a forest dwindles.

“Or it could be one of ours,” Myron points out, brushing an invisible feather on his forearm.

“Could be.” Silas shrugs as if humoring the others, then turns to gaze into the distance where gray turns to green and tree skeletons turn to grassland. “We’ve found more bones than we can count in this godsforsaken forest. If you ask me, whoever was hiding here is either dead or has left for good.”

“No one is asking you,” Herinor snarls, but I can see the anger is superficial. The tight lines around his mouth tell a different story. One of loss.

Elbow braced against the stump of a tree, Silas grimaces. “Too bad I don’t care. I would have long disappeared had Inot been busy spitting blood at my captors for the better part of the past month.”

“You wouldn’t, and you know it.” Kaira steps in front of the grumpy male, bracing her hands on her hips, the bow slung over her shoulder sliding down to her elbow. “You would follow Myron to the ends of this land and never even shed a tear about it. You know it. I know it.”

Herinor is smothering a chuckle as he carefully pulls Kaira’s bow back up to her shoulder. “Crows don’t cry.” He leans in so close Kaira shouts a startled curse—in her mind—and I stumble a step forward, ready for an attack.

“Damn it, Kaira,”I warn through our channel. “Do that again and I might accidentally stab someone.”The danger in my trembling hand is suggesting exactly that might happen.

Myron raises a brow at me as his gaze bounces back and forth between Kaira and Herinor and me. “Do I even want to know,” he whispers.

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