Page 48 of Flight of Fate

Like onyx torches, Ephegos’s eyes flash at me. “He’s done more than fail to break the curse. He’s killed people. PeopleIcared for.” Before I can ask what he means, Ephegos rolls on. “I won’t tell you specifics, Herinor. Not unless your loyalty belongs to me.” He casually pats the sword at his hip. “Myron is the past, Herinor.Iam the future. And the future of freedomfor the Crows. I don’t need you for the path I’ve chosen, but whether or not Myron breaks the curse,youwill needme.”

Whether it’s our inability to speak lies or mere delusions of grandeur, he’s convincing, and if Myron fails to break the curse… Perhaps it’s time to consider being on Ephegos’s good side if that happens. A future of freedom—even one in feathers is better than one more year in this forest.

As if reading my doubts, Ephegos’s head tilts to the side, beak-ish mouth distorting his words as he tells me in that charming way of his, “Sleep on it, Herinor. Take your time. A few more weeks won’t matter to me as long as I can save yet one more Crow from this misery.” He forces back enough of his crow form to show me his real smile—that of the Crow King’s friend. The deceit I want to run back to Myron to spill every last word Ephegos spoke—despite my size, I can be as sneaky as the spy himself—but I won’t. If I betray Ephegos, I’m a dead male; I don’t need him to tell me to know he’ll slit my throat in my sleep if necessary. But I have no doubt he’s convinced enough Crows to join his cause to easily make a kill.

And if I betray Myron… He’ll never know if I do it right. He’ll never know about my break of trust, about my weakness. My opportunism. I hate the way Ephegos’s words sneak into the cracks of my loyalty, worming deeper.

“You have three weeks to make up your mind.” Ephegos’s smile doesn’t fade, and my grim expression solidifies. “I’ll be making my move then, and there will be no joining me after. You’ll be on the wrong side of what I call the next generation of this people.”

“Three weeks,” I agree; because if I don’t, Ephegos might very well unleash that sword on me. “If Myron doesn’t break the curse by the time you make your grand move, I’ll swear loyalty to you.” It’s the best I can do for now.

Ephegos’s smile turns into a grin. “Promise?”

It’s a careless moment as my chin dips into a nod, and I instantly regret it as the thread of fae promises snaps into place, solidifying my commitment, the thread of ancient magic hooking into my tissues already, a reminder of what I promised and to whom.

It’s late afternoon by the time the door opens once more. I’ve stayed on my bed all day, drifting in and out of sleep, nightmares of all my wrong decisions haunting me. Soft footfalls make me lift my head, but I don’t find Kaira, as I’d hoped, lingering by the door, but the Crow Queen. Not in her human form as I’d hoped to once see her again.

“You’re fae,” I utter, dumbfounded by the image of pale beauty, the height, the slender limbs covered by a long jade, woolen gown, the pointed ears, the predatory gaze as she scans the cell.

“You sound disappointed.” There is no warmth in those gray eyes as she approaches, fearless like a real Crow. Because that’s what she is. She did it. She shed mortality—and saved Myron.

So fast I almost fall over my own feet, I leap from the bed, one knee on the floor, my hands on my chest as I bow to my queen. No words form in my mouth—and they don’t need to because Myron follows after her, clad in black finery that reminds me of the jackets he used to wear before the curse broke. It has sleeves, though. His fingertips end in talons.

“Royad said you’re ready to cooperate?” The lack of judgement in this voice gives me the courage to lift my head.

“I am.”

“And what memory do you care to offer up first?” Ayna asks, gracefully crossing the room to stand in front of me, not a hint of fear on her face.

“That depends. As we learned the other day, I might not even know what things I no longer remember.” I try to make it sound humorous, but there is no humor in failing my king and queen, so I let my mouth mirror the grim set of hers.

Just as she opens it to speak, Tori enters after Myron, the Crow King stepping aside to make room for the general, and my gut tightens with dread.

“I asked for Kaira.” I can’t keep my voice from shaking. If she hasn’t come, does that mean she’s injured? Has left? Doesn’t want to see me?

Tori crosses his arms. “I don’t care who you asked for. I’ll be here to make sure you don’t try anything funny and to monitor.”

Monitor.He saidmonitor.

I have all of a breath before Kaira files into the room, eyes on the rough stone tiles of the floor, her fighting leathers hugging her form. Her braid dangles over her shoulder, bouncing with every reluctant step, and her hands—her hands are on her twin daggers.

She stops a few feet from me, gaze snapping to mine, the warm brown of her eyes full of steel.

“You came.” My voice cracks at the wordless accusations floating from her, at the disappointment trying to curve her shoulders.

She battles herself into a proud, straight posture, defiant of any hurt in her chest—I’ll be damned if she ever felt anything for me other than contempt.

Tori shuts the door, and Ayna steps aside, not deigning me with a dismissal from my position of deference, so I remain on my knees.

“Shall we,” Kaira chirps in a voice too high and too shrill for her usually deeper timbre, and I dare meet her gaze again, catching a flash of fear before it ices over.

From where he positioned himself by the door, Myron nods, Ayna stepping to his side, fingers twining with his as they become one unit, an unbreakable wall of power. I can feel it in my bones, the force rallying beneath the calm exterior. Drawing his sword, Tori walks up to Kaira’s side.

“I’ll cut off his head if he as much as thinks about hurting you,” he murmurs at her, the soothing words of a friend ready to protect her. A friend she deserves.

Kaira doesn’t hesitate before she reaches for the sides of my head.

Thirty

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