Page 50 of Flight of Fate

Home. We’ll leave home.

My chest cracks.

And so does mine as I dive out of the memory, only to be taken into the darkness of Myron’s palace in the Seeing Forest. I know the hallways, the carvings, the everlasting torches along the walls.

“She’s pretty,” Ephegos muses, nudging Myron in the side with that playful way of his. The King’s best friend and perhaps the only one who is allowed to say anything like that to him.

“Pretty doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Myron says, face grave. “What a waste.”

It’s been two days since Wolayna arrived at the palace. The king has put me on guard duty because I’m one of the more civilized Crows in this court. Might have something to do with my history in Carius’s court. I’m used to pretending to have no opinions or emotions. Part of being a Crow soldier.

“You can still have your fun with her before she dies,” Ephegos suggests, earning a warning glance from Royad, who hasn’t left the King’s side as if anxious Myron will do something stupid if he allows him anywhere near the bride without adult supervision. Not that Myron is a child… Just, he is still a youngling in my view. Was born just as the curse fell upon us. He hasn’t seen much of his homelands, only the island where Carius made us stay the first decades of the curse. Still Neredyn but not the mainland. He built himself a palace there to remind Vala he doesn’t give a shit about her curse, that he welcomes the brutal cruelty of our people, solidified in our half-form.

How I ever fell for Carius’s ideals, I no longer know. Myron is the one who will bring about change. He said he’d do it or die trying. Not a promise. He knows better than to give carelesspromises. But with all those females dying on him… I’m not sure he’ll ever succeed.

I straighten at my post by the door while the three of them survey the sleeping pirate woman. Her hair is grimy, and she reeks of sweat and dirt. Of blood and fear.

“How long do you say she’s been out?” Ephegos asks, leaning over the bride with predatory interest.

“Since the boat. She was asking questions, and before that, she tried to escape on the prison island.

“A feisty one.” Ephegos claps Myron’s shoulder. “If she’s too much for you, I’m happy to take her off your claws.” He winks, and Royad chuckles while Myron just stares down at the woman who might seal all our fates.

“Don’t you have a ward to unweave?” Myron says to his friend, who laughs and flashes his toothy grin—fae enough if it wasn’t for the feathered arms—and strides from the room, followed by Royad, who halts at the doorstep, ignoring me completely as if I haven’t been standing guard since the moment they brought her in so none of the more savage Crows will feast on her—and I don’t mean the sensual way.

“Coming?”

Myron nods at his cousin, but before he turns to leave, he bends over the bride, studying her sleeping face, and brushes a thin strand of ash blonde hair from her forehead. “I might not know you yet, but one day soon, I will love you,” he whispers so softly I’m not sure I heard him. “Even if you’ll hate me. Even if I’ll never break the curse, I will love you.”

My heart stills as I fall out of the memory to Myron’s thumb brushing over the back of my palm. When my eyes snap to his, they are already waiting for me, a guarded expression on his face.

All this time… From the very beginning.

And Herinor had known. He’d known howgoodMyron was even back then. How he’d done all of it from the very first moment. He’d told me he never expected to break the curse when I was brought to him. He’d given up hope that anyone could ever love him back. And all those times he told me he wished he didn’t care if I lived or died—all those times were to protect his own heart when he believed I could never love a monster.

“You kept your promise,” I whisper at him, moisture collecting on my lashes.

Thirty-One

Herinor

Like a treasure hunter,Kaira has dug up my worst moments. She’s found my past of carelessly fucking my way through the world; she’s found my moments of doubting Myron. At least, she hasn’t found the day of the Flame attack when all went to shit.

“Myron hasn’t broken the curse,”Ephegos’s words of that day echo through my mind, and trust Kaira to latch onto my thoughts like a bloodhound.

“Will you stay true to your word, Herinor?” with the blade in his hand, he points at the back door where a few other Crows are already sneaking from the palace. It would be easy for me to do the same.

“He hasn’t,” I confirm.

“Time to fulfill your bargain?” He doesn’t push for it, simply asks, and it’s the diplomatic courtier’s approach that makes me leap at this thread of hope. The hope of freedom. Myron hasn’t broken the bargain. Ayna has survived months as a bride, but she won’t last much longer. All the others died sooner or later. She might have gotten closer to the king, but so did Sariell. And she died anyway. They all die eventually. And none of them breaks the curse.

“A stronger court, Herinor,” Ephegos reminds me. “One with you in a position of power rather than a simple guard.” Ephegos holds out his free hand. An offer.

Call it pride; call it weakness. I don’t care as I take and shake it in confirmation. My loyalty is now his, not because I believe in everything he says, but I won’t wait for Myron to doom us all. And if he does break the curse after all, maybe Ephegos will return to his king.

“Very well, Herinor. Welcome to my court.” Ephegos smirks, that charming grin gone as the magic of bargains snaps into place. “My first order to you: Don’t help Ayna. You are not allowed to help her.”

The order wraps around me, weaving into my skin and bones as I try to understand what he’s planning to do.

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