Page 3 of Flight of Fate

“Apologies, Your Majesty.” The way the guard bows as I speed past and sheathes his sword at his hip is almost comical. There’s no humor in it, though. I traded my promise to pay any price to be able to bring the force of the clouds down on a burning battlefield, and Vala named her price: my human form.

I’m a crow now for good, and even telling myself that things will be all right, that I can contribute to saving my family and this kingdom won’t change anything. I’m useless without my daggers and my magic, and not even my sharp claws can help any of them when we face Erina’s armies.

Second breakfast is crowded. The long oak table in the Fairy King’s dining room is loaded with plates of breakfast meats, cheeses, and fruit, and baskets of breads sit at the center. Clio, already in her fighting leathers, is digging into a helping of eggs, monitoring Silas and Herinor, who sit next to each other, talking about the strengths and weaknesses of our fairy allies. They’ve been training together for the past weeks, each day one of bruises and minor cuts when both fairies and Crows fight without their magic to get a taste of what it will be like to face Erina’s soldiers without their supernatural abilities.

Next to me, Myron is eating quietly, his gaze on me as I hop around my plate, picking at the slice of bacon Kaira dumped onto my plate after I asked her for it in my mind. He hasn’t uttered a word about how unfair it is that I can’t talk to him without Kaira or Tori translating. He hasn’t complained one single time about my avoidance of him. All he’s done is tell me again and again that, if there is a way to trap a Crow in their bird form, there is a way to set them free, that I proved exactly that when I saved him from Vala’s ancient curse.

It’s not the same. Even with Vala’s curse, he was at least mostly in his fae form when I first met him. He could speak through his own mouth and touch me with his hands, talons or no, whereas I… I am a bird. No words, no hands, no lips. What’s the use of having Kaira play messenger about how much it hurtsto not be able to wrap my arms around him? How much it pains me to see him waste his time on someone he can’t be with? How it agonizes my heart that he’s bound to me through the mating bond? Perhaps it would have been a blessing had Erina’s attempt to burn him out of me worked.

Tori’s warning look from where he sits next to Recienne by the head of the table is enough to tell me he heard every thought and is disapproving greatly.

“I’m not going to abandon him.”Reassurance that will lead nowhere but the truth nonetheless. I won’t abandon Myron. I won’t abandon my family.

Kaira nods and reaches across the table from her place next to Clio and shoves a piece of bread onto my plate. “Honestly,” the fairy princess drawls. “Stop having those silent conversations when I’m around. It’s rude.”

“It’s none of your business,”I snap in my head, but she doesn’t hear me. Tori, however, grips his fork harder, clearing his throat as if to smother words he’s trying to hold in.

At the head of the table, Recienne lounges in his chair, a cup of tea in one hand and a missive in the other, seemingly oblivious to our conversation. As the expression on his face darkens, Astorian leans over his loaded plate, reading along with the Fairy King, brows knitted in an auburn line of concentration and almost crushing the bread roll between his fingers.

“Bad news?”I ask into his mind, waiting for a little tell that he’s heard me. He doesn’t as much as blink.

Royad plucks a slice of bread from the basket closest to him, his leathers whispering with the movement. “Another message from the border?”

Too many of those have been coming in lately, all of them reporting the same disconcerting quiet in the borderlands. I guess it’s a good thing Erina isn’t sending in the brunt of his legions before we’ve had the chance to prepare. If our victoryagainst the Flames was enough to buy us a few weeks, staying in this form forever is worth it.

I tell myself that, but a selfish part of me yearns for my human form anyway.

“No new sightings at the ruins of Jeseida’s estate.” Recienne’s golden eyes lift from the missive to meet the male’s gaze. “The army gathering in the borderlands hasn’t grown.”

“Why the worried face then?” Silas prompts, the Crow warrior spearing a piece of apple and popping it into his mouth.

He’s right. Recienne has been staring at the paper in his hands for much too long for such a short message.

Slowly, deliberately, Recienne leads his glass cup to his lips, sipping from his tea then sets it down. “This”—he holds up the paper—“is a list of potential names for my child.”

Before any of us can comprehend what he said and take a peek, he folds it away and tucks it into the breast pocket of his black velvet jacket.

Herinor almost chokes on the mouthful of bread he’s chewing, and Royad’s eyes grow as large as the blue-and-gold saucer Recienne’s teacup is now sitting on. Beside me, Myron shows no reaction, so I control mine, too, even when I’m bursting with curiosity.

I haven’t seen the pregnant queen since I ran into her before we set out to intercept the weapons delivery in the borderlands, but my entire body chills at the thought of new life growing to be born into this world of terror and war.

Shoving the thought aside, I focus on the small smile spreading on Recienne’s lips that I’ve learned to interpret as a sign of happiness.

“Have you decided on a name?” Silas asks, and I’m surprised the usually sarcastic warrior is showing any interest.

“She’ll be named after her aunt, of course.” Clio folds her arms, and Tori leans back in his chair to drape his arm over her shoulders.

“Your brother and his mate will decide on the name of the child, the gender of which we don’t know.”

If looks could kill, Tori would fall off his chair at the way Clio peers at him. At least that draws a soft chuckle from Myron, the sound running through me like summer rain, and my entire soul ignites at the sudden awareness of my own mate so close—and me in my bird form.

I only realize I’ve been staring at him as his ocean eyes meet mine and my heart stutters.

Three

Myron

Ayna flies straightfor the training grounds when we all disperse to get ready for practice. I’m not sure if it was me who sent her bolting from the dining hall or if she’s restless in general; it’s hard to know with Crows in their bird form. Everything is driven by instincts and so much harder to control. It’s a miracle she hasn’t tried to tear anyone’s face off when Silas, Royad, and Tori get at it, discussing the best fighting techniques and strategies for battle.

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