Page 66 of Claws of Death

For a heartbeat, Myron stares at me, the weight of the universe in his gaze. I don’t need to look up at him to know his expression, but I do. Our eyes collide, and a spark of him ignites inside of me, leaving me raw, bleeding. It hurts to see him aching. Hurts even more to know I’m the cause.

I’ll be better tomorrow. I’ll speak the words on the tip of my tongue tomorrow, that I will never stop loving him either, that the frayed bond between us will heal. That Iwantit to. That I’ll cling to that hope until the day the gods decide I’m no longer worthy. “The gods made the stars, and the stars are eternal.”And we are the stars, you and I.

Something shifts inside of me. It’s minuscule and it results in a piercing ache in my shoulder, but it’s there. I want to reach for Myron, touch his hand if only for a moment, and it’s the first time I’m not paralyzed in his presence since the attack.

Before I can tell him, he rearranges his expression—so open one moment ago, so vulnerable—into all-business.

“I came here to let you know Recienne says the female we rescued is much better. He wants to talk to her today, and he offered for us to join him.”

The horrors of that cell beneath the estate flash through my mind, but one thought shines bright like a beacon. She survived. We saved someone. Our sacrifice wasn’t in vain.

When he doesn’t say anything else, I realize he actually came here to pick me up, not to discuss what happened to us. A weight drops from my chest, and energy fills my limbs at the prospect of having something to do that isn’t about me or him or about what our future might hold. This is about making a change in this war, and every last bit of information we can get might help us in the weeks to come. “You mean right now?”

I’m ready to leave, leaping to my feet so fast I almost stumble over the logs as I turn toward him. “Lead the way.”

Recienne does look after his court.

When we enter Tata’s—that’s the female’s name—room, it’s like walking into a puff of clouds. Light blue kisses along the cream walls like a summer sky peeking through sun-pierced clouds. A rounded glass vase holding white flowers sits atop an azure silk tablecloth on a low bedside table. A pale blue plush rug spreads in front of a carved bed covered in white sheets. Buried beneath the covers lies Tata, her thick black hair curled in a bun atop her head and the sleeves of her nightgown drawn back to her elbows to expose thebandages the healer is about to change as we enter the room behind the King of Askarea.

Tata doesn’t flinch or try to get up to kneel or bow. Instead, a warm smile spreads on her brown features, eyes sparkling when they meet her king’s. Thick black hair frames her face where all traces of bruises and cuts have been cleared away by healing magic and enough rest. I wonder about those hidden injuries, though, the ones only time can heal, if she’s braver than me to be able to smile like this after what she endured or simply better at concealing her brokenness.

“You look better, Tata.” Recienne flicks his fingers, and a carved birchwood chair appears next to the bed. He doesn’t sit down like I’d expected, though. With a smile, he motions for me to take a seat while he pulls two more chairs out of thin air, choosing the one closest to the bed for himself while he offers the other to Myron. The one closest to me. A shiver runs through my body as Myron’s thigh brushes my shoulder when he squeezes past to sit down, the sensation so unexpected my eyes snap to the side, half wishing for his to be waiting for me, but he’s smiling at the female, politely listening as Recienne introduces us as the people who freed her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” Tata’s rich voice doesn’t sound like that of a female who went through torture and nearly died in a stinking cell a couple of weeks ago. “King Recienne told me your rescue mission wasn’t without cost though.”

“We didn’t suffer any losses,” I quickly say, chest aching at the thought that we might have lost any of my friends thatday yet were spared, but Tata’s gaze lingers on my shoulder as if she can see through the light leathers I’m wearing.

“Not in the sense we count casualties on a battlefield,” she agrees, but her gaze tells me she knows what happened. “I am grateful for your sacrifice. If you hadn’t decided to come looking for us, I’d be dead like the rest of the scouts. You went into the belly of the beast to free us.”

“We’re grateful for the one life that was saved,” Recienne says like he isn’t the king who waged war onmypeople.

The fact that I am identifying as a Crow more by the day isn’t lost on me, and I have no idea how to feel about it when my feelings for Myron are confused on a good day and an outright disaster on a bad one. I’m nowhere near fit to be their Queen—three Crows or thousands, they deserve someone who will stand by their king no matter what.

As if reading my thoughts, Myron’s head snaps to the side, eyes finding mine, and days’ worth of suffering pour from his ocean irises. My hands want to reach for him, console him, but he pulls up his mask so fast I can’t take a full breath before he turns back to Tata, inclining his head.

“We are grateful for your bravery. Going out there full-knowingly that Erina’s sentries has been scouting the area, especially with his magic-nullifying drug at hand, is something only a hero would do.”

Tata grins at him, cheeks flushing a shade darker. “I’m not the only hero in this room then.”

Why it bothers me that he’s returning her smile is beyond me. Thank the Guardians, Recienne is here to keep me from making a comment andembarrassing myself.

“We didn’t know for certain it was Erina’s troops. Only that the Flames had been scouring the borderlands for something.” He laces his fingers together, bracing his forearms on his knees as he studies the scar running down the side of Tata’s neck climbing from the collar of her cream and light blue nightgown to her ear. That must have been a terrible cut if it leaves a scar on a fairy. Crows only keep scars from Crow claws, I’ve learned, but how scars work for Askarean fairies is something I’ve never thought to ask Clio or Tori.

Tata inclines her head. “We knew we were onto something when the scouts from the last mission didn’t return.” She smooths back her thick black braid with one hand, exposing more scars along her wrist and forearm. The horrors she must have endured…

Of course, she catches me staring and holds up her hand to let me assess her marred skin like it’s a trophy to show off. “Bastards burned my wrists before they strung me up to settle a debate whether it will leave scars.”

The tick in Recienne’s jaw is the only sign of his anger on the behalf of one of his subjects, but his lips remain a polite smile. “Those low-lives got what they deserved.” His pointed look is meant for both Myron and me, but it lingers on my face longer, a crease forming between his brows. “You said you had something you wanted to share with us?”

His words are clearly meant for Tata; still, the way his golden gaze bores into me makes my insides squirm. It’s not the thrill of a male’s attention, though, that puts my body on alert. It’s the way that look is drilling deep into the layers of me I’ve so desperatelybeen trying to bury.

Shifting in my chair, I listen for Tata’s response, hoping it will release me from the Fairy King’s scrutiny, but he continues, speaking directly to me, “Tata woke a week ago. She was in such deep trauma that her body shut down until the mind was ready to catch up with the healing process.”

There’s a deeper meaning to his words than I can understand, but it’s resonating in a wild cacophony like a set of off-kilter bells.

“When I first woke up,” Tata says, her tone tired, “I couldn’t believe I was alive. I didn’t even want to be alive with all my comrades gone.” She glances between Myron and me. “It could have been any of them who survived, but it was me. Not the captain or one of the more experienced soldiers. Me, a female who stumbled into King Recienne’s army like a youngling into an armory.”

Recienne opens his mouth to say something, but Tata is already speaking again. “I’d never planned on surviving my service, yet here I am.” Her laugh is rough, only humorous in parts, but those parts come straight from the heart. “It seems the Guardians have plans for me.”

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