Page 100 of Claws of Death

Damn the Flames and their magic-nullifying serum. With my powers intact, I could easily sense if there’s something wrong on a deeper level.

“She used a lot of power up there, summoning the clouds,” Royad puts into consideration. “Perhaps she’s exhausted.”

I beg the Gods he’s right.

“And if that’s not it, we’ll have the healers back at the palace take a look at her. They have more experience with fairies of all different sorts.”

“We’re not ‘fairies of all different sorts,’” Silas objects from behind her. Focused on Ayna’s motionless bird form, I missed his approach. When Tata glances at him over her shoulder, a deep frown furrowing her brow, he adds, “We arefae.”

“Who happen to turn into feathered birds that stalk the night. Lovely.”

Exhaustion is evident in every last one of her words, and Silas surely didn’t need to correct her about our heritage atthis very moment, but he has a point. “We are more similar than you would think, Tata,” I say gently, my eyes never leaving Ayna. “Our magic might be different, but we’re from the same world.”

“Where exactly is the corner of the world you came from?” No judgement clouds Tata’s question, so I respond, hands reaching for Ayna yet hesitating when Tata holds up a finger to stop me. “I need to double-check her wing.”

It’s a test to be patient, but I manage. For Ayna. “East of Eherea, far across the oceans where no Ehereans have ever dared sail, lies a continent named Neredyn.” My chest aches.

“Think of the Askarean forests but wilder and lusher. Think of the blossoms of spring and summer but with more color and stronger scents. Think of islands of beauty where the Gods used to walk before they made us. You might like it there.” Trust Silas to be stepping in. He knows much more about Neredyn anyway. “One day, I will fly there again.” He pauses, face grave like he doesn’t truly believe it. “One day.”

Carefully, Tata’s hand covers Ayna’s wing, fingers wrapping around the length of it and flexing it. With a nod, she turns to me. “All right, Crow King. You can take her now.”

My hands are shaking as I reach for the miserable bundle of feathers in the mud and pick her up, fingers sliding around her form with ease.

She’s so small—so freaking tiny in her bird form. One squish, and she’d be crushed beyond repair.

The thought makes me hold her out in front of me like she’s made of glass. Her wing hangs limply over my blood-caked thumb while her head rests against my index finger.This is perhaps the most completely I’ve ever held her … and it fucking breaks my heart to see her so fragile. My strong, beautiful Ayna. The female who can stand on her own legs, no matter what the winds blow her direction. Defeated.

The soft touch of Royad’s comforting hand on my shoulder reminds me of his presence. “We need to get out of here, Myron.”

He’s right. We might have gotten away with our lives, but it’s only a matter of time until someone will come looking for the remains of the battle when the Flames don’t show up with the weapon.

“Is all of it destroyed?” I ask between my teeth, unable to tear my gaze away from the crow in my hands.

“The weapon?” Royad gestures at the burned-down wagons. “The big delivery is completely shattered. There’s not a single drop of liquid left.” He pauses, rummaging in his jacket and pulling out a small vial very much like the one Jeseida used to pour the serum over me, face victorious. “We saved this. One of the guards by the wagon had it clutched in his hand when I ran him through. I plucked it from his grasp. Maybe we can figure out an antidote.”

He sounds less hopeful than he looks, but Royad has always been the cautious type.

“Maybe,” I echo. My mind is on Ayna, though, on my failure that led to her sacrifice. “Come on.” I turn north. “Let’s go home.”

Home,it turns out, is a loaded word for a Crow to use when speaking about the Fairy King’s palace.

It’s been an hour since the last Flame took a breath, the ground is still slick with their blood, and Recienne perpetually frowns at his own hands as he tries to send out his dark wind to test if his powers are returning—he’ll vomit his guts up soon enough again when the effects of the drug fade.

Tata’s black braid swings along her back as she stalks back and forth in front of her king, features unreadable as she muses about the inconvenience of not being able to site-hop after all the healing she’s done and how, perhaps, letting a Crow die in order to keep enough of her strength to site-hop back to Aceleau and get help would have been the smarter choice.

“It better not be our queen,” Silas warns with more bite than I’m used to, even from his generally sarcastic mouth. He means it. No matter howsoftSilas has gotten over the past weeks, he’s ready to return to being the ancient, slaughtering menace who used to serve in my father’s guard. It’s a miracle he sees me as a fit ruler with all the horrors he’s used to from my father.

“Of course, not your queen. Do you think I want to incite a new war? No thanks.” Tata turns on her heel and marches to the rocks from behind where the attack was launched. There, she plants her ass on the hard stone, gazing at the sky. “Wouldn’t be a very fair war—five against an army of thousands.” Before any of us can respond, she continues, “Can’t you just shift and fly to get help?” Her gaze slides to Silas, whose features have changed into a grimace.

“I have exerted my strength healingyourking, thank you very much.” He spreads his arms in anobviouslygesture, which Tata promptly responds to with a turn of her head to the Fairy King.

“Do something, Recienne.” It’s the first time I actually hear her call him by his name, but the familiarity was there the first time I saw them together. It no longer surprises me to see the Fairy King so familiar with his court. He’s proven in every way that counts he isn’t the bloodthirsty monster I believed him to be.

Absently, my finger glides over Ayna’s back. “So, there is no way for us to get back to Aceleau other thanwait?” It’s ridiculous that a bunch of magical creatures should be stuck in the human lands, yet here we are. “Won’t Tori and Clio come looking for us?” No one responds, but I already know the answer to that one: They were in such bad shape; they probably never made it all the way back to the palace. “Shall we send a search party?”

“I wish someone would send a search party for us,” Tata groans, bracing her hands beside her hips and hanging her head. “We don’t even have water rations on us.”

“Beginner’s mistake,” Recienne chides and flicks his fingers, probably trying to summon a glass of water, a jar of water, or maybe even a whole pond of water, and curses when he remembers his powers are gone.

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