Page 47 of Flight of Fate

“Please tell me if she’s all right,” I all but beg. I’d be happy to crawl to know she’s safe.

Royad—a soft-hearted bastard but still a bastard—folds his arms and leans a shoulder against the wall where he stands on the other side of the room, just out of reach of my chain.

“I’m happy to tell you if you dig deep in your memory to let us see all those conversations you had with Ephegos and the traitorCrows. I’m sure there’s more that will blindside us before the end.”

He isn’t wrong.

Even when I can’t remember which of the many things Ephegos shared will be our victory or our failure, I’m sure there are things so deep at the bottom of my memory that I can’t even remember they’re there.

“Tori is ready to break into your mind and dig up all your dark secrets, Herinor, and if Myron left the decision to me, I’d already have the general bite your mind apart with his power. Perhaps layer in some of that liquid rock to match your thick skull.”

He’d do it, too. Between all the Crows left in this court, he’s the sort of loyal that doesn’t allow for the grayness of my morals. In Royad’s eyes, I’m a traitor, still, and he won’t miss me if I break in the process of extracting my thoughts.

And Astorian?—

“He can access memories?” I prompt, wondering if it might be a good thing if I myself asked him to dig through my head. If he’s the one unearthing secrets, at least, it’s not me betraying them. It’s merely a fairy general prying them from me.

“He said it’s a painful procedure and you’d likely never be the same.” Royad tilts his head, eyeing me as if he wouldn’t mind if exactly that happened.

“What if I allow him into my mind?” I sit back on the bed, leaning against the wall and pulling up my knees, chain clinking. With one hand, I gesture at the iron curling my ankle. “You know, like I allowed you to put this on me.” As a sign of good faith. I could have fought to the teeth and gotten free before they locked me up, but probably not without killing them, and that, I’m not ready to do.

“Then we’d be faster, and I might be inclined to believe Myron when he says you didn’t mean any harm by keeping thosesecrets.” He chews on his lower lip as if keeping himself from saying more.

I try to keep my expression blank. “That’s what he said?” Something like relief trickles through me like nearly crystalized honey. I’m not sure any of those drops will ever truly reach the bottom.

“Because he’s a fool and can’t be bothered with traitors right now, so he tends to believe you when you say you didn’t mislead us on purpose and didn’t consciously withhold information.”

A stuck breath escapes from my lungs.

“I’ll let you dig through my mind,” I offer, already forming a plan in my mind. One that will get us both what we want. “But Tori won’t be the one to do it.”

Royad cocks his head? “Oh?”

I bite back the flicker of hope as I allow the words onto my tongue. “Kaira will.”

A ghost of a smile forms on Royad’s face, but he clamps down on it, turning toward the door. Without another word, he leaves.

Royad doesn’t return that day. When the door opens, it’s Silas carrying in his hands a bowl of vegetable stew that’s tasty enough to come right from the Fairy King’s table. I eat it gratefully, wondering if my bold demand will earn me my execution or if I’ll live to see another day. Another day of self-loathing.

The night is an endless twisting and tossing on the hard bed, but at least I’m warm. It’s more than I could say Ephegos granted me when I first joined him. Flashes of those days tied up in his torture chamber—latermytorture chamber—while he tested the magic-sedating drug on me keep me from sleep, as dothe countless conversations I had with Ephegos. And the one I overheard. As I delve into my memories, browsing for anything useful that I could hand them tomorrow, I ponder the fate I’ve chosen for myself.

“A bit late to be considering the side you’re standing on, Herinor, isn’t it?” Ephegos spreads his winged arms, feathers ruffling in the breeze as he beckons me further into the clearing he chose for this meeting. Not far from the palace but far enough to be certain no one can overhear our words. Evergreens shield us from sight, so I stand at ease, facing Ephegos, who braces his feet apart a few inches, a casual stance of power. Myron has ordered his sentries to stay by the palace, keep an eye on Ayna. I’m one of them, so I know where they are, what they do, their rotations. I also know that Ayna won’t get far because they’re on duty.

If she tries to escape again, we’re allowed to shackle her with our power and bring her back. No injuries, though. No brutality. Not one little piece of fun. I haven’t had a proper female in such a long time that I wonder if I still know how to use my cock, but Ayna isn’t for me. She’s the one hope for the Crows. The last hope, Myron explained when he justified the bargain he made with the Fairy Princess—and perhaps sealed all our fates.

“It’s never too late to make the right choice.” I mean it. Myron has tried and tried to break the curse. Ninety-nine brides have withered and died. Ninety-nine women and females, thirty-three from each territory, Tavras, Cezux, and Askarea. I’m tired of waiting. Tired ofhoping. Hoping only to fall back into despair. And after Myron’s bride ran from him yesterday, I wonder if there is any hope to cling to. She’d rather kill him than love him.

A look in the mirror should be enough to realize no one will ever love a creature such as what we’ve become. We werehorrible to begin with, our bloodlust only second to our cruelty. Carius demonstrated that over and over and celebrated it with pride in the way he tormented each Crow bride until she becamenothing.Taken by the curse, by Vala herself—perhaps a mercy—or tortured by the late Crow King.

Myron is different. But he’s too soft. He won’t win any hearts in his half-form, and he won’t save us either.

“Swear the oath then. Swear your loyalty and join me. I’ll create a new, better court that will allow us to roam free once more.” Not a promise. A conviction.

But not enough. “What if we’re wrong? What if Myron breaks the curse after all?” I want to believe it so desperately that I’m ready to kill for it. But whom should I kill? The current bride? Myron? It would change nothing about the feathered arms, the beaks that won’t go away, the claws that barely retreat when I focus so hard I could crush a diamond with my mind.

“Then the curse will be broken, and you’ll get your pretty face back, Herinor. But I will build this new court anyway. Myron has caused enough destruction. He’s responsible for too much of our suffering. He won’t be king—not of this new realm of crows I’ll build. One with alliances rather than enemies, with females and life. We’ve been a dead people long enough, and it’s Myron’s turn to suffer for what he failed to do.”

“He’s been trying.” Because I’ve been watching him try for a century. “It’s the curse.”

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