Page 62 of Flight of Fate

“Humans can kill just as well as fairies of all sorts,” Kaira points out, falling into step beside me while Herinor shifts in front of us—ofher—like a wall of solid muscle.

Clio chuckles a melody of violent memories I’m certain I don’t want her to share. “Oh, I know.”

Mercifully, the lack of a breeze harbors our hushed conversation until we make it to the blood-drenched area and loose a collective breath when we notice the many bloody bootprints leading from here into the forest. No dragged, crimson lines etched into the white hoarfrost. No abandoned weapons.

I don’t know why the sight of it gives me hope when knowing this could very well mean Andraya and Pouly have been captured alongside the other rebels staying with them, and they might be suffering the torture Erina and Ephegos have both proven capable of.

The tracks are fresh, the blood still warm. At least, Silas says so when he lands and shifts, digging a finger into the mud once more before gesturing at the forest. “They could be less than a mile ahead.”

Staring into the haze forming between the tree trunks like clouds sinking into the forest, Tata says, “The Crows can follow them in the air, and we can sneak up on them on foot. We’ll have them trapped within a heartbeat.” Her gaze swings to Silas. “What do you think, Crow?”

The challenge in her tone is obvious, an invitation to go on a killing spree, even when these people—mypeople might not mean anything to her.

With an incline of his head, Silas turns toward me. “These are your rebels, Queen Ayna. It’s your call.”

Myron doesn’t as much as bat an eye when his subject excludes him from the decision, but through the bond, I sense the fierce, burning pride when Silas addresses me asqueen. “If they are carrying the injured, it’s likely they haven’t gotten far,” he merely says, no sign of that passionate king surfacing in his tone, only cool assessment, while the darkness coiling fromhis hands slowly retreats as if knowing there is no immediate danger waiting for us.

I don’t need to think about it when I say, “We go after them.”

No one questions my decision. Herinor and Silas merely shift into their bird forms while Tata, Kaira, and Clio start moving along the bloody tracks, their feet silent on the frozen ground.

“Are you ready to shift?” Myron asks, watching the other two Crows lift into the air.

We haven’t had this conversation yet, the one where I admit how afraid I am of returning to my bird form for fear I’ll be stuck again.

With a shake of my head, I unsheathed my dagger, following the three females. Myron falls into step beside me a moment later, opting to remain on the ground with me, his power curling around my shoulders in an invisible embrace, and I know he understands why I’m not ready. Why my nightmares are still filled with the feeling of being trapped in that tiny, fragile form, helpless, powerless.

“I’ll shift again,” I murmur, not afraid the others will hear. They are my family now, and who would I confide in if not them?

Gently, Myron’s power gives my shoulders a squeeze. “I know, little crow.” And there is no judgment. Even if my not shifting would mean losing this war, he wouldn’t judge.

And I’ve never loved him more than in this moment when everything he is converges in that breath of understanding. We’ve both lived through pain and loss and trauma, have both suffered and fought our way back. This is just one more stop on the journey of eternity I now share with this male.

Just as my heart is about to get all warm and fuzzy from the love pouring in through the mating bond, a thin flash of silver catches my eye and one of the crows flying above the trees ahead plunges from the air. I don’t care if it’s Silas or Herinor as I take off, running into the forest, Clio, Tata, and Kaira followingsuit while Myron shifts in a dark swirl of feathers. He doesn’t fly ahead, instead remaining directly above me like a winged, deadly bodyguard as we dart between the evergreens kissing the skeletons of maples, elms, and oaks.

Branches whip at my shield, and I need to draw it closer to my body as the forest grows denser. I should be tiring, but my fae heart pounds steadily even when I run, run, run, until I enter a small clearing, finding myself face to face with Andraya and Pouly. Both bloodied and half frozen. And both tied to a tree trunk at the edge of the clearing.

Andraya’s eyes widen as she takes in Tata, Clio, Kaira, and the crow fluttering overhead. Then her gaze finds me across the frozen ground, and pure horror spreads on her bruised face as she mouths, “Run.”

Thirty-Eight

Ayna

I don’t knowwhat happens first: Myron’s silver power slashing through the ropes binding the two rebels to the tree or Clio’s magic spraying in a flash of icy crystals crumbling the fibers that make up those bindings, but Andraya and Pouly stumble to the ground, leaving bloodied handprints where they catch themselves on the white-coated forest floor.

“It’s all right,” I tell Andraya as I rush toward her, sheathing my dagger to help her up. “We’re here to help you.”

The lady doesn’t even look at me, gaze locking at something behind me as she keeps shaking her head.

“Get Pouly and leave.” The Fairy Princess usually isn’t someone who appreciates being ordered around, but she doesn’t object, instead grabbing the elderly rebel by the arm and dragging him to his feet.

“Move,” she orders, and he does. On unsteady legs, he staggers forward, but his gaze remains behind me the same as Andraya’s.

“Where are the others?” Myron prompts from a few feet behind me, and the command in his tone explains why the two rebels are still staring like that. With a glance over my shoulder, I find Myron and Tata, both of them with their weapons drawn.Myron is scanning the clearing for signs of Herinor and Silas, who haven’t reappeared since the river of light drew one of the two Crows from the sky.

“I don’t know,” Andraya admits, but her face is weary, not a hint of relief at their rescue showing in those sparkling blue eyes. Eyes that are still fixated on a point behind me.

Something is off, and it’s not in the way it was off when we were fighting Erina’s soldiers north of Aceleau. It’s a different, more fundamental sort ofoffthat has my gut tightening and my pulse launching into my throat even when there is no obvious danger.

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