Page 28 of Flight of Fate

“Perhaps to even the odds for the humans by using the Flames’ superior senses on their trek through the lands,” Silas puts into consideration. Herinor nods, gaze following the invisible line between Ansoli and the enemy camp.

“Each group in itself is near-harmless, but as a collective, with their magic-repellant armor and their numbers… We still don’t know their exact numbers. Our scouts don’t dare get too close so we don’t tip them off and provoke an early attack before we’re ready, but it could be well over six hundred soldiers by now if we take the information we extracted from Gus as a baseline. It will be tricky to take down those forces in the north.”

Herinor isn’t wrong, and even if six hundred soldiers sound like nothing compared to Recienne’s thousands when he drafts them all together in a large army, the base of the mountains is a death trap in an uphill battle, and the moment they use magic-nullifying weapons, numbers won’t help with the magical fighters on their side. “We don’t know how many Crows have additionally snuck in with them,” I amend. “With only a few left behind after the battle in the Seeing Forest, I bet he has the majority of the Crows on his side, and they’d be able to cross the realm undetected.” The way we’ve done for centuries, but I don’t need to say that out loud; we all know it, and it’s a part of history, which won’t help our joint efforts.

As we discuss the pros and cons of luring Erina’s forces out and where to best meet them, what to do if magic fails us and how to best estimate the size of the army hiding by the mountains, how to get a count of magic wielders, my gaze finds Ayna’s once more, her pensive expression, obvious even with her crow features, and the stillness with which she sits atop the drawing peak of that mountain. My chest constricts at how little time we might truly have and how much I have failed to tell her—about the future I hoped for, the world I wanted to show her, the crown I wanted to forge for her, and the life I wanted to build with her.

Seventeen

Ayna

Scatteredwith scratches from my claws, the windowsill in Myron’s room has become my favorite place over the past weeks of fighting a battle against time: time to prepare, to understand the magic-nullifying drug better and make an antidote from it, time to spend with my new family, time to work out how to choose immortality.

I’ve tried—Guardians, have I tried tochoose. Every day I sit in this place, focusing on my mate, on my title as a Crow Queen, on what I want for this court and how to achieve it. I decide over and over again that Iwantto be Queen of Crows. That IamQueen of Crows. That Ichooseto be the queen of this feathered people.

Nothing.

Less than nothing. Not even a mocking laugh from Shaelak or a warning from Vala that shetold me so.

Kaira can’t spend every minute of her day with me so I cantalkto people, and Tori is busy readying Askarean forces and positioning them north of the city in Erina’s legions’ path. Every day feels like a million lifetimes and too short to bear when I come up empty-handed, still clad in feathers and claws, and my mate is still as mortal as I am.

We’ve talked about the solstice, about the ritual the Flames do to reaffirm their long life. It’s the best idea anyone has come up with so far, even when dancing in this form might prove to be a challenge.

When I told her, Clio suggested I sit on Myron’s shoulder and let him do the work, but the humor in her tone was forced, and the compassion in her gaze brought back the initial pain and hopelessness Shaelak’s words instilled in me.

“Hello, little crow.” Myron has soundlessly entered the room, afternoon light spilling over his tall form from the window behind me. With a soft click, he closes the door and sheds his leather jacket on the broken chair by the desk. This room—hisroom—is the one where he slept when Erina tried to un-mate us and I rejected him for a while. He now sleeps back in our initial room, in the wide bed, but during the days, he still comes here to read in books he borrows from Recienne’s library or study maps Tori provides, and when I want to spend time with him, I join him here.

One of said books still lies open on the made bed, a cup of cold tea sitting on the edge of the desk and an empty plate next to it, proof that he sometimes stays here even through mealtimes.

Lips quirking into a half-smile, Myron strolls over to the window, propping his hip against the worn wood and bracing a hand beside me. For a moment, it strikes me as odd that I’m looking directly at his abs—hidden beneath the loose white shirt he’s wearing—but I know his body well enough to recognize the contours and what it felt like to touch them.

On instinct, I lift a claw; then I remember I’m a bird and he’s in his fae form. AndI’m a bird.

“Kaira is tormenting Herinor in the training ring,” Myron says, oblivious to my moment of forgetting my form. He chuckles quietly, gaze wandering to the window as if he could seeall the way to the arena. “I wonder which of the two will break first.”

“In the arena?”I think at him, but my words are lost in the void my mind is without Kaira’s ability to relay my thoughts.

“They’ve been dancing around each other for a while, and the way I see it, Herinor will either spear her with his sword or with his cock, depending on how much she upsets him.”

I cackle a laugh of surprise as he puts it so bluntly. Kaira definitely has it in her to drive anyone mad, but the way I’ve caught Herinor looking at her gives me hope he won’t run her through with a blade. Which would leave the other option, and I’m back to studying Myron’s abs through his shirt.

My bird body can’t feel desire the way my human one could, so all that remains is the memory of what we used to have and of that dream a few weeks ago that keeps haunting me.

Myron turns his head and catches me studying him, and I’m glad I can’t blush in this form, but pain flashes in his eyes before he turns his back to the window and lowers his head, a curtain of black hair hiding the exhaustion on his features as he sighs. “I know you can’t respond without Kaira or Tori here to help translate, but I want to talk to you anyway.”

One caw for a nondescript response. He can interpret whatever he likes and I’ll get to hear him speak for a little longer. Much as Shaelak’s words have shaken me, at least my bird self has come to her senses, my instincts no longer driving me away from my mate. I can finally allow myself to be next to him without believing it would be better if I set him free—because he’ll never be free, even if I disappear into the night. He’ll die with me, whether we’re in the same room or oceans apart.

I love you, Myron. I’m sorry I’m taking your immortality to my grave.

“I’ve been thinking about—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “I’ve been thinking about the promise.”

What promise?I want to ask, but I hold still, hopping a step closer while Myron runs a hand through his hair, revealing his profile against the smudges of orange and pink along the graying sky.

For a long, tense minute, he says nothing, doesn’t even look at me, but when he does, his brows knit together, and he shakes his head again. “It’s probably a stupid idea.”

Without another word, he prowls over to the bed and slumps onto the covers, picking up the book and burying his nose in it.

What are you reading?I want to ask just to keep him from withdrawing into this shell he sometimes pulls up—whenever our eyes collide for too long and myriads of emotions swirl in the ocean depths like he can see me beyond the form I’m trapped in. It’s those moments when I wonder if he felt as embarrassed when I looked at him like that when he was still a prisoner of Vala’s curse.

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