Page 8 of Claws of Death

“That’s the plan.” Royad shoves a hand through his hair, lifting his face to the purple sky. “If we’re lucky, not all of the Crows we left behind have been detected and killed off by the Flame hunters.”

My stomach turns as I’m torn yet again between what’s best for my people and what is best for their queen. I’d let them all die if it means she lives.

“I never want to set foot in that Shaelakforsaken forest again,” Silas grunts, slumping his back against the rock and stretching his legs, crossing them at the ankles. His injuries are healing well. A few more days and the cuts on his skin will have fully disappeared while his magic returns bit by bit.

“Neither do I,” I admit. “But I will go to the ends of the world to get the Crow Queen back. And if you want a place in this court, so will you.”

I’m not proud of my tone, of the threats I issue at the rugged male who’s become my friend, but I mean it all the same.

“This is about more than a female,” Clio reminds me with a sharp look, and gods bless her, she’s right. “If we don’t warn Recienne before Erina mobilizes his armies, the fairylands will not be prepared.”

And with the magic dulling substance, the humans would be a real danger to Askarea.

“I won’t care about what happens with your lands if my mate doesn’t survive.”

Much to my surprise, neither Clio nor Astorian burns me with a glare. Instead, their eyes fill with pity, one pair liquid jade, the other warm auburn. They both know what it means to fear for their mate’s life and won’t judge me for it.

“We’ll head north at first light.” Royad leaps in before I can say something I will regret.

Not that we need light to move, but we all need rest. So, we lie down around the meek fire and close our eyes. All but Herinor, who offers to take the first watch while the rest of us recover from what is partly his fault.

Before taking up his post, Herinor crouches beside me, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Kaira and I might not be mated, but I second the sentiment, My King. I don’t care what will become of any of us if I don’t get her back.”

“She was supposed to go with Cliophera, Silas, and Astorian when Ayna and I went back to get Royad. What made her return to the dungeon?”

The guilt in Herinor’s eyes is a stark mirror of my own feelings when I think of Ayna stuck at the palace.

“I don’t know.” Rising to his feet, he prowls to the large boulder a few feet beyond Silas’s and sits down, gaze on the horizon, a fearless warrior keeping watch over a group of travelers. But the slump of his shoulders tells me that, internally, he’s beating himself up for Kaira’s fate.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but when the sun wakes me with unrelenting brightness, I know I must have dozed off long enough for the moon to fade in its searing presence. When I roll into a sitting position, Silas and Astorian are already gnawing on last night’s leftovers while Royad and Herinor are still fast asleep. Despite my gratitude for the extra moments of rest my cousin is getting, I am equally infuriated that no one cared to wake me at first light.

A sweep across our makeshift camp tells me Clio took the final watch of the night. Her relatively short frame—short for a fairy—thrones on the same boulder Herinor occupied last night, but her gaze is on me, measuring and weighing.

“I would have kicked your Crow ass out of its slumber a long time ago had Tori not insisted I let you sleep.” Lips quirking in what could be a smirk or vast disapproval, she hops off her vantage point and saunters over. The linen pants and tunic she’s been wearing since the escape from the palace are crusted with dirt and blood the way all of our clothes are, a reminder of what we’ve gone through together. “And judging by your expression, you feel very much the same about Royad, or you’d have long blasted him out of his dreams.”

“Nightmares,” I correct with a sober face. When Clio merely blinks without understanding, I add, “If Astorian has shared even half a word about what we all endured in the dungeon, you’ll know that none of us will have anything other than nightmares until Erina and Ephegos are defeated.”

Her face falls, gaze flicking to the fairy general, who’s gone still, a slice of meat halfway to his mouth. EvenSilas has lost his usual sarcastic comments. I could swear the Crow’s hands are shaking.

Clio’s prompt apology comes as a surprise, but I wave it off. “Don’t worry, Princess of Askarea. I know you’ve endured similar and worse at the hands of my own people. I won’t judge you for not treating me as if nothing ever happened. The scars on my body are enough of a reminder.”

From the corner of my eyes, I watch Silas press his hands to his thighs to steady them. Astorian’s chest heaves in a long, forced breath before he picks up his conversation with the Crow.

Princess Cliophera, however, pulls her lips into a small smile, a humble one instead of the wide, taunting grins of hers I’m used to, and the gesture is enough of a peace offering for me to return it with a smile of my own.

“For all the terror of your captivity, Tori is lucky to have shared it with a Crow like you.” There is nothing but sincerity in her expression as she inclines her head before joining Astorian and Silas by the fire.

The fairy general scoots aside, making room for her to sit on the patch of dry grass, and hands her a piece of meat, but his gaze finds mine across the dying flames. He dips his chin in silent agreement, and so do I, lucky to have found such an unlikely ally in the fairy male. Releasing the tightness in my chest, I follow Clio’s lead and huddle by the fire until Royad and Herinor wake minutes later, their yawns wide, but my cousin’s features are no longer exhausted, and I’ll take that as a win.

We eat in silence, each of us fighting our own demons as we stare into the embers, until the remains of breakfast havebeen devoured and there is nothing left to do other than to pack up and leave.

Everything inside of me screams as I turn away from the direction I want to go, but I won’t do Ayna any favors by barging in the palace doors and getting myself captured all over again. With a sigh, I trace the outline of the bird tattoo on my shoulder and relish the warmth spreading through my arm and down my back from where it responds with a tingle.

The thought that Ayna can feel my touch brings me comfort as I set out after Astorian and Clio, a grim-faced Royad at my side. Herinor and Silas bring up the rear, and I’m not entirely certain how I feel about having the two of them behind me. Silas will stop any attempts Herinor may make, but despite saving me and saving Royad, turning his back on Ephegos and walking away… He left Ayna behind, and I don’t know if I can forgive that.

Ayna

Life at Erina’spalace has become an endless sequence of dreading the next dose of the magic-nullifying drug. Had the substance at least made me delirious, I could have lived with it, but all it does is create endless hours of nausea and weakness.

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